“In the ancient town of Bruges
  In the quaint old Flemish city,
  As the evening shades descended,
  Low and loud and sweetly blended,
  Low at times and loud at times,
  And changing like a poet’s rhymes,
  Rang the beautiful wild chimes
  From the belfry in the market
  Of the ancient town of Bruges.”

In the prologue to The Golden Legend, we have the attempt of Lucifer and the Powers of the Air to tear down the cross from the spire of the Strasburg Cathedral, with the remonstrance of the bells interwoven: 

“Laudo Deum verum!         Funera plango! 
Plebem voco!               Fulgura frango! 
Congrego clerum!           Sabbata pango!

“Defunctus ploro!          Excito lentos! 
Pestem fugo!               Dissipo ventos! 
Festa decoro!              Paco cruentos!”

  “I praise the true God, call the people, convene the clergy;
  I mourn the dead, dispel the pestilence, and grace festivals;
  I mourn at the burial, abate the lightnings, announce the Sabbath;
  I arouse the indolent, dissipate the winds, and appease the avengeful.”

Another rendering of the two last lines reads:—­

  “Men’s death I tell, by doleful knell;
  Lightnings and thunder I break asunder;
  On Sabbath all to church I call;
  The sleepy head, I raise from bed;
  The winds so fierce I do disperse;
  Men’s cruel rage, I do assuage.”

And in the Legend itself, an historical account of mediaeval bell-ringing is given by Friar Cuthbert, as he preaches to a crowd from a pulpit in the open air, in front of the cathedral:—­

  “But hark! the bells are beginning to chime;... 
  For the bells themselves are the best of preachers;
  Their brazen lips are learned teachers,
  From their pulpits of stone, in the upper air,
  Sounding aloft, without crack or flaw,
  Shriller than trumpets under the Law,
  Now a sermon and now a prayer."...

In the Tales of the Wayside Inn occurs the pretty legend of The Bell of Atri, “famous for all time”; and from his summer home in Nahant, from across the waters he listens to

  “O curfew of the setting sun!  O bells of Lynn! 
  O requiem of the dying day!  O bells of Lynn!”

In the Curfew he quaintly and beautifully reminds us of the old couvre-feu bell of the days of William the Conqueror, a custom still kept up in many of the towns and hamlets of England, and some of our own towns and cities; and until recently the nine-o’clock bell greeted the ears of Bostonians, year in and year out.  And who does not remember the sweet carol of Christmas Bells?

“I heard the bells on Christmas Day
Their old familiar carols play,
And wild and sweet
The words repeat
Of peace on earth, good will to men!

* * * * *

“Then pealed the bells more loud and deep: 
’God is not dead; nor doth he sleep! 
The wrong shall fail,
The right prevail
With peace on earth, good will to men!’”