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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.)