The Intermountain Catholic. (Salt Lake City [Utah] ;) 1899-1920, 1900-09-15
THE LEGEND OF LIMERICK
BELLS.
Bessie Rayner Parkes.


T!!e-e IS a convent on the Alban hill
Round whose stone roots the gnarled
olives grow;
Above the murmurs of the mountain rill,
Ard all the broad Campagna lies below;
Where faint gray buildings and a
shadowy dome
Suggests the splendor of eternal Rome.
Hundreds of years ago, these convent
Were reared by masons of the Gothic
The date is carved upon the lofty halls,
The story written on the iilumined page
What pains they took to make it strong
and fair
The tall bell tower and sculptured porch
declare.
When all the stones were placed, the
And the bell tower finished to the
crown
Only one want in this fair pile remained.
Whereat a cunning workman of the
CThe little town upon the Alban hilD
Toiled day and night his purpose to fulfill.
Seven bells he made, of very rare devise
With craven lilies twisted up and down;
Seven bells proportionate in differing
size,
And full of melody from rim to crown;
So that, when shaken by the wind alone,
They murmured with a soft Aeolian tone
These being placed within the great bell
And duly rung by pious, skillful hand,
Marked the due prayers of each recur-
And sweetiy mixed persuasion with
Through the gnarled olive trees the music
wound:
And miles of broad Campagna heard the
sound.
And then the cunning workman put aside
His forge, his hammer, and the tools
he used
To chase those lilies; his keen furnace
And ali who asked for bells were hence
refused.
With these his best. his last were also
wrought,
And refuge in the convent walls he
sought.
There did he live, and there he hoped
Hearing the wind among the cypress
trees ~
Which, dashing round the Cape of Brit
Sweeps to the con1snes og the Irish Sea
There he took ship. and thence with
laboring sail
He crossed the waters, till faint gray
Rose in the northern sky; so faint, so
Only the heart that loves her would
In her dim welcome, all that fancy paints
OF the green glory of the Isle of Saints.
Through the low banks, where Shannon
meets the sea,
Up the broad waters of the River King
(Then populous with a nation), journeyed
Through that old ireland which her
pets sing;
And the white vessel, breasting up the
Moved SLOW Slowly, like. a ship within a
When Limerick towers uprose before his
a sound of music Seated in the air
Music which held him in a 1aXed amaze,
Whose silver tenderness was alien
there:
And dus5y olives swaying in the breeze.
His chimes! the children of the great bell
Empty and silent now for many year,
He hears them ringing out the vesper
Owned in an instant by his loving ear.
Kind angels stayed the spoilers hasty
And watched their journeying over sea
and land.
The white-sailed boat moved slowly up
the stream;
The old man lay with folded hands at
rest;
The Shannon glistened in the sunset
beam;
The bells rang gently Ger it's shining
breast,
Shaking out music from each lilied rim;
1t was a requiem which they rang for
him.
For when the boat was moored beside the
quay,
He lay as children lie when lulled by
song;
But never more to waken. Tenderly
They buried him wild 34owers and grass
among,
Where on the cross alights the wander
ing bird
And hour by hour the bells he loved are
hear.