Classic Poem

I know a curious grotto
With crystals vaulted round,
'Tis by some God invested
With wondrous powers of sound;
Whate'er one sings, whate'er one tells,
Re-echoes like a peal of bells.

Two blest ones there are standing,
(Like hopes their spirits move),
Their pent desires outpouring,
Avowing mutual love;
Meanwhile a clear-voiced bell keeps time
With one of deeper, stronger chime!

There lie some boon-companions
The stony bench along;
Full cups of wine they brandish,
Sing scraps of drunken song;
Ne'er rang the echoes louder, higher —
Like bells that warn of storm or fire.

Two men, sedate and earnest,
Linked by pure freedom's band,
Are anxiously discussing
Their German Fatherland;
Hark! from the farthest nook a bell
Booms deeply, like a funeral knell.