The peasants trembled at the sound
Of that big Bell.
Not far from the Cathedral stood
A Hermit's Cell,
And in its belfrey-tower of wood
A little Bell;
Whose daily tinkhng through the year
So faintly fell,
The peasants hardly gave an ear
To that small Bell.
The Hermit—he who owned the same.
And loved it well,
Resolved that it should share the fame
Of the big Bell;
So tolling it but once a year.
With one brief knell
He taught the peasants to revere
His little Bell.
And there are fools in vast repute
Who, strange to tell.
Acquire their fame by being mute
Like that small Bell;
These would-be sages rarely speak,
For they know well
That frequent utterance would break
The solemn spell.
(Iriarte. Literary Fables. Translated from the Spanish for Blackwood's Magazine.)
