Tintinnalogia, or, the Art of Ringing Wherein is laid down plain and easie Rules for Ringing all sorts of Plain Changes

Excerpt

NOBLE SOCIETY
OF
COLLEDGE-YOUTHS.

Gentlemen,

I have seen a Treatise intituled, de Tintinnabulis—that is, of little Bells, the Language Latin, but pen'd by a Dutchman, being a Discourse of striking tunes on little Bells with traps under the feet, with several Books on several Instruments of Music, and Tunes prick't for the same; Then considering that the Well-wishers to either of them, took great pains to make plain the use of them, I thought it worth a Dayes labour, to write something on this Art or Science, that the Rules thereof might not be lost and obscured to some, as the Chronicles before William the Conqueror, being given only by Tradition from Father to Son. Wherefore I humbly intreat you favourably to accept this small Treatise, as a foundation whereon may be raised a famous Structure; and if any one objects a fault, excuse it with the Ringing term—He was Over-bell'd—So you will much oblige him that is a Well-wisher to your Recreation,

Campanista.

What Musick is there that compar'd may be
To well-tun'd Bells enchanting melody!
Breaking with their sweet sound the willing Air,
And in the listning ear the Soul ensnare;
The ravisht Air such pleasure loth to lose,
With thousand Echoes still prolongs each close;
And gliding streams which in the Vallies trills,
Assists its speed unto the neighbouring Hills;
Where in the rocks & caves, with hollow gounds,
The warbling lightsome Element rebounds.
This for the Musick: In the Action's Health,
And every Bell is a Wit's Common-wealth
For here by them we plainly may discern,
How that Civility we are to learn.
The Treble to the Tenor doth give place,
And goes before him for the better grace:
But when they chance to change, 'tis as a dance,
They foot A Galliard, à la mode de France.
An Eighteenscore's a figure dance, but Grandsire
Hath the Jig-steps! & Tendrings Peal doth answer
The manner of Corants: A plain Six-score,
Is like a Saraband, the motion slower.
When Bells Ring round, and in their Order be,
They do denote how Neighbours should agree;
But if they Clam, the harsh sound spoils the sport,
And 'tis like Women keeping Dover Court
For when all talk, there's none can lend an ear
The others story, and her own to hear;
But pull and hall, straining for to sputter
What they can hardly afford time to utter.
  Like as a valiant Captain in the Field,
By his Conduct, doth make the Foe to yield;
Ev'n so, the leading Bell keeping true time,
The rest do follow, none commits a Crime:
But if one Souldier runs, perhaps a Troop
Seeing him gone, their hearts begin to droop;
Ev'n so the fault of one Bell spoils a Ring,
(And now my Pegasus has taken Wing.)

Upon the Presentation of
GRANDSIRE BOB
To the
COLLEDGE-YOUTHS,
By the
AUTHOR
Of that PEAL.

Gentlemen of the Noble Crew
Of Colledge-Youths, there lately blew
A wind, which to my Noddle flew
(upon a day when as it Snew;)
Which to my Brains the Vapors drew
And there began to work and brew,
'Till in my Pericranium grew
Conundrums, how some Peal that's New
Might be compos'd?...