Edgar Allan Poe

“ Quel drame de terreur hurle dans leurs vacarmes,
 Dans leurs grands bonds épouvantés !
En sursaut, à leur voix, la nuit noire s’éveille,
 Et tâtonne, et dresse l’oreille,
Horreur ! ce ne sont plus des voix, ce sont des cris,
 Des cris, d’horribles cris ! ”

“ What a world of solemn thougt their monody compels !
In the silence of the night
How we shiver with affright
At the melancoly menace of their tone !
For every sound that floats
From the rust with in their throats
Is a groan.
An the people — ah, the people —
They that dwell up in the steeple,
All alone,
And who tolling, tolling, tolling,
In that muffled monotone,
Feel a glory in so rolling
On the human heart a stone —
They are neilher man nor woman —
They are neither brute nor human —
They are Ghouls :
And their king it is who tolls ”