A Ballad
THERE ’s a legend that ’s told of a gypsy who dwelt
In the lands where the pyramids be;
And her robe was embroidered with stars, and her belt
With devices right wondrous to see;
And she lived in the days when our Lord was a child
On his mother’s immaculate breast;
When he fled from his foes,—when to Egypt exiled,
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Sabbata pango;
Funera plango;
Solemnia clango.
—Inscription on an Old Bell.WITH deep affection
And recollection
I often think on
Those Shandon bells,
Whose sounds so wild would,
In the days of childhood,
Fling round my cradle
Their magic spells.On this I ponder
Where’er I wander...