Down, down—away, away,
When good has come ill may not stay,
Out, out, into the night,
The belfry bells are ours by right!
[p183]
And the words broke and joined again, like water when it flows against the piers of a bridge. ‘Down, down——.’ ‘Ill may not stay——.’ ‘Good has come——.’ ‘Away, away——.’ And the joining came like the sound of the river that flows free again.
Out, out, into the night,
The belfry bells are ours by right!
And then, as King Bellamant stood there, thrilled and yet, as it were, turned to stone, by the magic of this conflict that raged above him, there came a sweeping rush down the belfry ladder. The lantern he carried showed him a rout of little, dark, evil people, clothed in dust and cobwebs, that scurried down the wooden steps gnashing their teeth and growling in the bitterness of a deserved defeat. They passed and there was silence. Then the King flew from rope to rope pulling lustily, and from above, the bells answered in their own clear beautiful voices—because the good Bell-folk had driven out the usurpers and had come to their own again.
Ring-a-ring-a-ring-a-ring-a-ring! Ring, bell!
A little baby comes on earth to dwell. Ring, bell!