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| AT Atri in Abruzzo, a small town | |
| Of ancient Roman date, but scant renown, | |
| One of those little places that have run | |
| Half up the hill, beneath a blazing sun, | |
| And then sat down to rest, as if to say, | 5 |
| “I climb no farther upward, come what may,”— | |
| The Re Giovanni, now unknown to fame, | |
| So many monarchs since have borne the name, | |
| Had a great bell hung in the market-place, | |
| Beneath a roof, projecting some small space | 10 |
| By way of shelter from the sun and rain. | |
| Then role he through the streets with all his train, | |
| And, with the blast of trumpets loud and long, | |
| Made proclamation, that whenever wrong | |
| Was done to any man, he should but ring | 15 |
| The great bell in the square, and he, the King, | |
| Would cause the Syndic to decide thereon. | |
| Such was the proclamation of King John. | |
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| How swift the happy days in Atri sped, | |
| What wrongs were righted, need not here be said. | 20 |
| Suffice it that, as all things must decay, | |
| The hempen rope at length was worn away, | |
| Unravelled at the end, and, strand by strand, | |
| Loosened and wasted in the ringer’s hand, | |
| Till one, who noted this in passing by, | 25 |
| Mended the rope with braids of briony, | |
| So that the leaves and tendrils of the vine | |
| Hung like a votive garland at a shrine. | |
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| By chance it happened that in Atri dwelt | |
| A knight, with spur on heel and sword in belt, | 30 |
| Who loved to hunt the wild-boar in the woods, | |
| Who loved his falcons with their crimson hoods, | |
| Who loved his hounds and horses, and all sports | |
| And prodigalities of camps and courts;— | |
| Loved, or had loved them; for at last, grown old, | 35 |
| His only passion was the love of gold. | |
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| He sold his horses, sold his hawks and hounds, | |
| Rented his vineyards and his garden-grounds, | |
| Kept but one steed, his favorite steed of all, | |
| To starve and shiver in a naked stall, | 40 |
| And day by day sat brooding in his chair, | |
| Devising plans how best to hoard and spare. | |
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| At length he said: “What is the use of need | |
| To keep at my own cost this lazy steed, | |
| Eating his head off in my stables here, | 45 |
| When rents are low and provender is dear? | |
| Let him go feed upon the public ways; | |
| I want him only for the holidays.” | |
| So the old steed was turned into the heat | |
| Of the long, lonely, silent, shadeless street; | 50 |
| And wandered in suburban lanes forlorn, | |
| Barked at by dogs, and torn by brier and thorn. | |
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| One afternoon, as in that sultry clime | |
| It is the custom in the summer time, | |
| With bolted doors and window-shutters closed, | 55 |
| The inhabitants of Atri slept or dozed; | |
| When suddenly upon their senses fell | |
| The loud alarm of the accusing bell! | |
| The Syndic started from his deep repose, | |
| Turned on his couch, and listened, and then rose | 60 |
| And donned his robes, and with reluctant pace | |
| Went panting forth into the market-place, | |
| Where the great bell upon its cross-beams swung, | |
| Reiterating with persistent tongue, | |
| In half-articulate jargon, the old song: | 65 |
| “Some one hath done a wrong, hath done a wrong!” | |
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| But ere he reached the belfry’s light arcade | |
| He saw, or thought he saw, beneath its shade, | |
| No shape of human form of woman born, | |
| But a poor steed dejected and forlorn, | 70 |
| Who with uplifted head and eager eye | |
| Was tugging at the vines of briony. | |
| “Domeneddio!” cried the Syndic straight, | |
| “This is the Knight of Atri’s steed of state! | |
| He calls for justice, being sore distressed, | 75 |
| And pleads his cause as loudly as the best.” | |
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| Meanwhile from street and lane a noisy crowd | |
| Had rolled together like a summer cloud, | |
| And told the story of the wretched beast | |
| In five-and-twenty different ways at least, | 80 |
| With much gesticulation and appeal | |
| To heathen gods, in their excessive zeal. | |
| The Knight was called and questioned; in reply | |
| Did not confess the fact, did not deny; | |
| Treated the matter as a pleasant jest, | 85 |
| And set at naught the Syndic and the rest, | |
| Maintaining, in an angry undertone, | |
| That he should do what pleased him with his own. | |
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| And thereupon the Syndic gravely read | |
| The proclamation of the King; then said: | 90 |
| “Pride goeth forth on horseback grand and gay, | |
| But cometh back on foot, and begs its way; | |
| Fame is the fragrance of heroic deeds, | |
| Of flowers of chivalry and not of weeds! | |
| These are familiar proverbs; but I fear | 95 |
| They never yet have reached your knightly ear. | |
| What fair renown, what honor, what repute | |
| Can come to you from starving this poor brute? | |
| He who serves well and speaks not, merits more | |
| Than they who clamor loudest at the door. | 100 |
| Therefore the law decrees that as this steed | |
| Served you in youth, henceforth you shall take heed | |
| To comfort his old age, and to provide | |
| Shelter in stall, and food and field beside.” | |
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| The Knight withdrew abashed; the people all | 105 |
| Led home the steed in triumph to his stall. | |
| The King heard and approved, and laughed in glee, | |
| And cried aloud: “Right well it pleaseth me! | |
| Church-bells at best but ring us to the door; | |
| But go not in to mass; my bell doth more: | 110 |
| It cometh into court and pleads the cause | |
| Of creatures dumb and unknown to the laws; | |
| And this shall make, in every Christian clime, | |
| The Bell of Atri famous for all time.” | |
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