 | The Ingoldsby Legends |  |
Yet so it is—for loud and clear
From St. Nicholas' tower, on the listening ear,
With solemn swell The deep-toned bell
Flings to the gale the funeral knell;
And hark!—at its sound, as a cunning old hound,
When he opens, at once causes all the young whelps
Of the cry to put in their less dignified yelps,
So—the little bells all, No matter how small,
From the steeples both inside and outside the wall,
With bell-metal throat Respond to the note,
And join the lament that a prelate so pious is
Forced thus to leave his disconsolate diocese,
Or, as Blois' Lord May'r Is heard to declare,
“Should leave this here world for to go to that there.”
From St. Nicholas' tower, on the listening ear,
With solemn swell The deep-toned bell
Flings to the gale the funeral knell;
And hark!—at its sound, as a cunning old hound,
When he opens, at once causes all the young whelps
Of the cry to put in their less dignified yelps,
So—the little bells all, No matter how small,
From the steeples both inside and outside the wall,
With bell-metal throat Respond to the note,
173
Forced thus to leave his disconsolate diocese,
Or, as Blois' Lord May'r Is heard to declare,
“Should leave this here world for to go to that there.”
| The Ingoldsby Legends | |