Within a neighboring hamlet poor and small,
With crumbling belfry tottering to its fall,
There stood a paltry chapel low and mean;
A cracked and rusty cow-bell hung therein,
Harsh and discordant, but the sexton sly,
Only upon the solemn days and high,
Six times a year at most, its voice awoke,
Like the cathedral bell with solemn stroke.
This strange reserve, in parish bells unknown,
Gave to the wretched bell a high renown.