Note how Hardy is responding in this poem to news of the destruction of Belgian cities and the subsequnet abuses of civilians. He seems to have the image of Louvain in mind, the wanton bombardment of masterworks of architecture from the 14th-16th centuries in once peaceful town centers by such guns as Krupps' "Big Bertha," a 42-cm howitzer.
I dreamt that people from the Land of Chimes
Arrived one autumn morning with their bells,
To hoist them on the towers and citadels
Of my own country, that the musical rhymes
Rung by them into space at meted times
Amid the market's daily stir and stress,
And the night's empty star-lit silentness,
Might solace souls of this and kindred climes.
Then I awoke; and lo, before me stood
The visioned ones, but pale and full of fear;
From Bruges they came, and Antwerp, and Ostend,
No carillons in their train. Foes of mad mood
Had shattered these to shards amid the gear
Of ravaged roof, and smouldering gable-end.