From the tower of the church of her convent that stands on the cliff
overhead.

'Tis for this that the bellows are blowing, that the workmen their
sledge-hammers wield,
That the firm sandy moulds are now broken, and the dark-shining bells
are revealed;
The cars with their streamers are ready, and the flower-harnessed necks
of the steers,
And the bells from their cold silent workshop are borne amid blessings
and tears.
By the white-blossom'd, sweet-scented myrtles, by the olive-trees
fringing the plain,
By the corn-fields and vineyards is winding that gift-bearing, festival
train;
And the hum of their voices is blending with the music that streams on
the gale,
As they wend to the Church of our Lady that stands at the head of the
vale.

Now they enter, and now more divinely the saints' painted effigies
smile,
Now the acolytes bearing lit tapers move solemnly down through the
aisle,
Now the thurifer swings the rich censer, and the white curling vapour
up-floats,
And hangs round the deep-pealing organ, and blends with the tremulous
notes.
In a white shining alb comes the abbot, and he circles the bells round
about,
And with oil, and with salt, and with water, they are purified inside
and out;
They are marked with Christ's mystical symbol, while the priests and the
choristers sing,
And are bless'd in the name of that God to whose honour they ever shall
ring.

Toll, toll! with a rapid vibration, with a melody silv'ry and strong,
The bells from the sound-shaken belfry are singing their first maiden
song;
Not now for the dead or the living, or the triumphs of peace or of
strife,
But a quick joyous outburst of jubilee full of their newly-felt life;
Rapid, more rapid, the clapper rebounds from the round of the bells--
Far and more far through the valley the intertwined melody swells--
Quivering and broken the atmosphere trembles and twinkles around,
Like the eyes and the hearts of the hearers that glisten and beat to the
sound.

But how to express all his rapture when echo the deep cadence bore
To the old Campanaro reclining in the shade of his vine-covered door,
How to tell of the bliss that came o'er him as he gazed on the fair
evening star,
And heard the faint toll of the vesper bell steal o'er the vale from
afar--
Ah! it was not alone the brief ecstasy music doth ever impart
When Sorrow and Joy at its bidding come together and dwell in the heart;
But it was tha