THE VIRGIN WITH THE BELLS MUCH strange is true. And yet so much Dan Time thereto of doubtful lays He blurs them both beneath his touch : In this our tale his part he plays. At Florence, so the legend tells, There stood a church that men would praise (Even where Art the most excels) Gracious she was, and featly done, And sceptre in her hand did bear; Writ with Faith, Hope, and Charity. Of great or small. But this they told :That once from out the blaze of square, And bickering folk that bought and sold, More moved no doubt of heat than prayer, But, for all this, a hard, haught man. Praying him grant of his excess Thereat with scorn he answered—“ Nay, "To swell the Church's overflow. "Or, likelier still, your doll's-eyed queen Shall ring her bells. . but not of craft By Bacchus ! ye are none too lean "For fasting folk!" With that he laughed, And so, across the porphyry floor, His hand upon his dagger-haft, Strode, and of these was seen no more. Oft dower shrunk souls. But, on a day, Chaffered around the basket ware, It chanced that when the priest would kneel Before the taper's flickering flame, Sudden a little tremulous peal From out the Virgin's altar came. Spoke in his pride, and therewithal Who, of the Duke, was banned the State, Such is the tale the Frati tell. |