Off flew my sparkling Boat in scorn,
Yea in a trance of indignation!
Yea in a trance of indignation!
William Wordsworth
615
'Tis not a plover of the moors,
'Tis not a bittern of the fen;
Nor can it be a barking fox,
Nor night-bird chambered in the rocks,
Nor wild-cat in a woody glen! 620
The Ass is startled--and stops short
Right in the middle of the thicket;
And Peter, wont to whistle loud
Whether alone or in a crowd,
Is silent as a silent cricket. 625
What ails you now, my little Bess?
Well may you tremble and look grave!
This cry--that rings along the wood,
This cry--that floats adown the flood,
Comes from the entrance of a cave: 630
I see a blooming Wood-boy there,
And if I had the power to say
How sorrowful the wanderer is,
Your heart would be as sad as his
Till you had kissed his tears away! 635
Grasping [67] a hawthorn branch in hand,
All bright with berries ripe and red,
Into the cavern's mouth he peeps;
Thence back into the moonlight creeps;
Whom seeks he--whom? --the silent dead: [68] 640
His father! --Him doth he require--
Him hath he sought [69] with fruitless pains,
Among the rocks, behind the trees;
Now creeping on his hands and knees,
Now running o'er the open plains. 645
And hither is he come at last,
When he through such a day has gone,
By this dark cave to be distrest
Like a poor bird--her plundered nest
Hovering around with dolorous moan! 650
Of that intense and piercing cry
The listening Ass conjectures well; [70]
Wild as it is, he there can read
Some intermingled notes that plead
With touches irresistible. 655
But Peter--when he saw the Ass
Not only stop but turn, and change
The cherished tenor of his pace
That lamentable cry [71] to chase--
It wrought in him conviction strange; 660
A faith that, for the dead man's sake
And this poor slave who loved him well,
Vengeance upon his head will fall,
Some visitation worse than all
Which ever till this night befel. 665
Meanwhile the Ass to reach his home, [72]
Is striving stoutly as he may;
But, while he climbs the woody hill,
The cry grows weak--and weaker still;
And now at last it dies away. 670
So with his freight the Creature turns
Into a gloomy grove of beech,
Along the shade with footsteps [73] true
Descending slowly, till the two
The open moonlight reach. 675
And there, along the [74] narrow dell,
A fair smooth pathway you discern,
A length of green and open road--
As if it from a fountain flowed--
Winding away between the fern. 680
The rocks that tower on either side
Build up a wild fantastic scene;
Temples like those among the Hindoos,
And mosques, and spires, and abbey-windows,
And castles all with ivy green! 685
And, while the Ass pursues his way,
Along this solitary dell,
As pensively his steps advance,
The mosques and spires change countenance,
And look at Peter Bell! 690
That unintelligible cry
Hath left him high in preparation,--
Convinced that he, or soon or late,
This very night will meet his fate--
And so he sits in expectation! 695
[75]
The strenuous Animal hath clomb
With the green path; and now he wends
Where, shining like the smoothest sea,
In undisturbed immensity
A [76] level plain extends. 700
But whence this faintly-rustling sound
By which the journeying pair are chased?
--A withered leaf is close behind, [77]
Light plaything for the sportive wind
Upon that solitary waste. 705
When Peter spied the moving thing,
It only doubled his distress; [78]
"Where there is not a bush or tree,
The very leaves they follow me--
So huge hath been my wickedness! " 710
To a close lane they now are come,
Where, as before, the enduring Ass
Moves on without a moment's stop,
Nor once turns round his head to crop
A bramble-leaf or blade of grass. 715
Between the hedges as they go,
The white dust sleeps upon the lane;
And Peter, ever and anon
Back-looking, sees, upon a stone,
Or in the dust, a crimson stain. 720
A stain--as of a drop of blood
By moonlight made more faint and wan;
Ha! why these sinkings of despair? [79]
He knows not how the blood comes there--
And Peter is a wicked man. 725
At length he spies a bleeding wound,
Where he had struck the Ass's head; [80]
He sees the blood, knows what it is,--
A glimpse of sudden joy was his,
But then it quickly fled; 730
Of him whom sudden death had seized
He thought,--of thee, O faithful Ass!
And once again those ghastly pains,
Shoot to and fro through heart and reins,
And through his brain like lightning pass. [81] 735
PART THIRD
I've heard of one, a gentle Soul,
Though given to sadness and to gloom,
And for the fact will vouch,--one night
It chanced that by a taper's light
This man was reading in his room; 740
Bending, as you or I might bend
At night o'er any pious book, [82]
When sudden blackness overspread
The snow white page on which he read,
And made the good man round him look. 745
The chamber walls were dark all round,--
And to his book he turned again;
--The light had left the lonely taper, [83]
And formed itself upon the paper
Into large letters--bright and plain! 750
The godly book was in his hand--
And, on the page, more black than coal,
Appeared, set forth in strange array,
A _word_--which to his dying day
Perplexed the good man's gentle soul. 755
The ghostly word, thus plainly seen, [84]
Did never from his lips depart;
But he hath said, poor gentle wight!
It brought full many a sin to light
Out of the bottom of his heart. 760
Dread Spirits! to confound the meek [85]
Why wander from your course so far,
Disordering colour, form, and stature!
--Let good men feel the soul of nature,
And see things as they are. 765
Yet, potent Spirits! well I know,
How ye, that play with soul and sense,
Are not unused to trouble friends
Of goodness, for most gracious ends--[86]
And this I speak in reverence! 770
But might I give advice to you,
Whom in my fear I love so well;
From men of pensive virtue go,
Dread Beings! and your empire show
On hearts like that of Peter Bell. 775
Your presence often have I [87] felt
In darkness and the stormy night;
And, with like force, [88] if need there be,
Ye can put forth your agency
When earth is calm, and heaven is bright. 780
Then, coming from the wayward world,
That powerful world in which ye dwell,
Come, Spirits of the Mind! and try,
To-night, beneath the moonlight sky,
What may be done with Peter Bell! 785
--O, would that some more skilful voice
My further labour might prevent!
Kind Listeners, that around me sit,
I feel that I am all unfit
For such high argument. 790
I've played, I've danced, [89] with my narration;
I loitered long ere I began:
Ye waited then on my good pleasure;
Pour out indulgence still, in measure
As liberal as ye can! 795
Our Travellers, ye remember well,
Are thridding a sequestered lane;
And Peter many tricks is trying,
And many anodynes applying,
To ease his conscience of its pain. 800
By this his heart is lighter far;
And, finding that he can account
So snugly [90] for that crimson stain,
His evil spirit up again
Does like an empty bucket mount. 805
And Peter is a deep logician
Who hath no lack of wit mercurial;
"Blood drops--leaves rustle--yet," quoth he,
"This poor man never, but for me,
Could have had Christian burial. 810
"And, say the best you can, 'tis plain,
That here has [91] been some wicked dealing;
No doubt the devil in me wrought;
I'm not the man who could have thought
An Ass like this was worth the stealing! " 815
So from his pocket Peter takes
His shining horn tobacco-box;
And, in a light and careless way,
As men who with their purpose play,
Upon the lid he knocks. 820
Let them whose voice can stop the clouds,
Whose cunning eye can see the wind,
Tell to a curious world the cause
Why, making here a sudden pause,
The Ass turned round his head, and _grinned_. 825
Appalling process! I have marked
The like on heath, in lonely wood;
And, verily, have seldom met
A spectacle more hideous--yet
It suited Peter's present mood. 830
And, grinning in his turn, his teeth
He in jocose defiance showed--
When, to upset [92] his spiteful mirth,
A murmur, pent within the earth,
In the dead earth beneath the road, 835
Rolled audibly! it swept along,
A muffled noise--a rumbling sound! --
'Twas by a troop of miners made,
Plying with gunpowder their trade,
Some twenty fathoms underground. 840
Small cause of dire effect! for, surely,
If ever mortal, King or Cotter,
Believed that earth was charged to quake
And yawn for his unworthy sake,
'Twas Peter Bell the Potter. 845
But, as an oak in breathless air
Will stand though to the centre hewn;
Or as the weakest things, if frost
Have stiffened them, maintain their post;
So he, beneath the gazing moon! --850
The Beast bestriding thus, he reached
A spot where, in a sheltering cove, [93]
A little chapel stands alone,
With greenest ivy overgrown,
And tufted with an ivy grove; 855
Dying insensibly away
From human thoughts and purposes,
It seemed--wall, window, roof and tower [94]--
To bow to some transforming power,
And blend with the surrounding trees. 860
As ruinous a place it was,
Thought Peter, in the shire of Fife
That served my turn, when following still
From land to land a reckless will [95]
I married my sixth wife! 865
The unheeding Ass moves slowly on,
And now is passing by an inn
Brim-full of a carousing crew,
That make, [96] with curses not a few,
An uproar and a drunken din. 870
I cannot well express the thoughts
Which Peter in those noises found;--
A stifling power compressed his frame,
While-as a swimming darkness came [97]
Over that dull and dreary sound. 875
For well did Peter know the sound;
The language of those drunken joys
To him, a jovial soul, I ween,
But a few hours ago, had been
A gladsome and a welcome noise. 880
_Now_, [98] turned adrift into the past,
He finds no solace in his course;
Like planet-stricken men of yore,
He trembles, smitten to the core
By strong compunction and remorse. 885
But, more than all, his heart is stung
To think of one, almost a child;
A sweet and playful Highland girl,
As light and beauteous as a squirrel,
As beauteous and as wild! 890
Her dwelling was a lonely house, [99]
A cottage in a heathy dell;
And she put on her gown of green,
And left her mother at sixteen,
And followed Peter Bell. 895
But many good and pious thoughts
Had she; and, in the kirk to pray,
Two long Scotch miles, through rain or snow,
To kirk she had been used to go,
Twice every Sabbath-day. 900
And, when she followed Peter Bell,
It was to lead an honest life;
For he, with tongue not used to falter,
Had pledged his troth before the altar
To love her as his wedded wife. 905
A mother's hope is hers;--but soon
She drooped and pined like one forlorn;
From Scripture she a name [100] did borrow;
Benoni, or the child of sorrow,
She called her babe unborn. 910
For she had learned how Peter lived,
And took it in most grievous part;
She to the very bone was worn,
And, ere that little child was born,
Died of a broken heart. 915
And now the Spirits of the Mind
Are busy with poor Peter Bell;
Upon the rights of visual sense
Usurping, with a prevalence
More terrible than magic spell. [101] 920
Close by a brake of flowering furze
(Above it shivering aspens play)
He sees an unsubstantial creature,
His very self in form and feature,
Not four yards from the broad highway: 925
And stretched beneath the furze he sees
The Highland girl--it is no other;
And hears her crying as she cried,
The very moment that she died,
"My mother! oh my mother! " 930
The sweat pours down from Peter's face,
So grievous is his heart's contrition;
With agony his eye-balls ache
While he beholds by the furze-brake
This miserable vision! 935
Calm is the well-deserving brute,
_His_ peace hath no offence betrayed;
But now, while down that slope he wends,
A voice to Peter's ear [102] ascends,
Resounding from the woody glade: 940
The voice, though clamorous as a horn
Re-echoed by a naked rock,
Comes from that tabernacle--List! [103]
Within, a fervent [104] Methodist
Is preaching to no heedless flock! 945
"Repent! repent! " he cries aloud,
"While yet ye may find mercy;--strive
To love the Lord with all your might;
Turn to him, seek him day and night,
And save your souls alive! 950
"Repent! repent! though ye have gone,
Through paths of wickedness and woe,
After the Babylonian harlot;
And, though your sins be red as scarlet,
They shall be white as snow! " 955
Even as he passed the door, these words
Did plainly come to Peter's ears;
And they such joyful tidings were,
The joy was more than he could bear! --
He melted into tears. 960
Sweet tears of hope and tenderness!
And fast they fell, a plenteous shower!
His nerves, his sinews seemed to melt;
Through all his iron frame was felt
A gentle, a relaxing, power! 965
Each fibre of his frame was weak;
Weak all the animal within;
But, in its helplessness, grew mild
And gentle as an infant child,
An infant that has known no sin. 970
'Tis said, meek Beast! that, through Heaven's grace,[105] [H]
He not unmoved did notice now
The cross [I] upon thy shoulder scored,
For lasting impress, by the Lord [106]
To whom all human-kind shall bow; 975
Memorial of his touch--that day [107]
When Jesus humbly deigned to ride,
Entering the proud Jerusalem,
By an immeasurable stream [J]
Of shouting people deified! 980
Meanwhile the persevering Ass,
Turned towards a gate that hung in view
Across a shady lane; [108] his chest
Against the yielding gate he pressed
And quietly passed through. 985
And up the stony lane he goes;
No ghost more softly ever trod;
Among the stones and pebbles, he
Sets down his hoofs inaudibly,
As if with felt his hoofs were shod. 990
Along the lane the trusty Ass
Went twice two hundred yards or more,
And no one could have guessed his aim,--
Till to a lonely house he came,
And stopped beside the door. [109] 995
Thought Peter, 'tis the poor man's home!
He listens--not a sound is heard
Save from the trickling household rill;
But, stepping o'er the cottage-sill,
Forthwith a little Girl appeared. 1000
She to the Meeting-house was bound
In hopes [110] some tidings there to gather:
No glimpse it is, no doubtful gleam;
She saw--and uttered with a scream,
"My father! here's my father! " 1005
The very word was plainly heard,
Heard plainly by the wretched Mother--
Her joy was like a deep affright:
And forth she rushed into the light,
And saw it was another! 1010
And, instantly, upon the earth,
Beneath the full moon shining bright,
Close to [111] the Ass's feet she fell;
At the same moment Peter Bell
Dismounts in most unhappy plight. 1015
As he beheld the Woman lie [112]
Breathless and motionless, the mind
Of Peter sadly was confused;
But, though to such demands unused,
And helpless almost as the blind, 1020
He raised her up; and, while he held
Her body propped against his knee,
The Woman waked--and when she spied
The poor Ass standing by her side,
She moaned most bitterly. 1025
"Oh! God be praised--my heart's at ease--
For he is dead--I know it well! "
--At this she wept a bitter flood;
And, in the best way that he could,
His tale did Peter tell. 1030
He trembles--he is pale as death;
His voice is weak with perturbation;
He turns aside his head, he pauses;
Poor Peter from a thousand causes,
Is crippled sore in his narration. 1035
At length she learned how he espied
The Ass in that small meadow-ground;
And that her Husband now lay dead,
Beside that luckless river's bed
In which he had been drowned. 1040
A piercing look the Widow [113] cast
Upon the Beast that near her stands;
She sees 'tis he, that 'tis the same;
She calls the poor Ass by his name,
And wrings, and wrings her hands. 1045
"O wretched loss--untimely stroke!
If he had died upon his bed!
He knew not one forewarning pain;
He never will come home again--
Is dead, for ever dead! " 1050
Beside the Woman Peter stands;
His heart is opening more and more;
A holy sense pervades his mind;
He feels what he for human-kind
Had never felt before. 1055
At length, by Peter's arm sustained,
The Woman rises from the ground--
"Oh, mercy! something must be done,
My little Rachel, you must run,--
Some willing neighbour must be found. 1060
"Make haste--my little Rachel--do,
The first you meet with--bid him come,
Ask him to lend his horse to-night,
And this good Man, whom Heaven requite,
Will help to bring the body home. " 1065
Away goes Rachel weeping loud;--
An Infant, waked by her distress,
Makes in the house a piteous cry;
And Peter hears the Mother sigh,
"Seven are they, and all fatherless! " 1070
And now is Peter taught to feel
That man's heart is a holy thing;
And Nature, through a world of death,
Breathes into him a second breath,
More searching than the breath of spring. 1075
Upon a stone the Woman sits
In agony of silent grief--
From his own thoughts did Peter start;
He longs to press her to his heart,
From love that cannot find relief. 1080
But roused, as if through every limb
Had past a sudden shock of dread,
The Mother o'er the threshold flies,
And up the cottage stairs [114] she hies,
And on the pillow lays [115] her burning head. 1085
And Peter turns his steps aside
Into a shade of darksome trees,
Where he sits down, he knows not how,
With his hands pressed against his brow,
His elbows on [116] his tremulous knees. 1090
There, self-involved, does Peter sit
Until no sign of life he makes,
As if his mind were sinking deep
Through years that have been long asleep!
The trance is passed away--he wakes; 1095
He lifts [117] his head--and sees the Ass
Yet standing in the clear moonshine;
"When shall I be as good as thou?
Oh! would, poor beast, that I had now
A heart but half as good as thine! " 1100
But _He_--who deviously hath sought
His Father through the lonesome woods,
Hath sought, proclaiming to the ear
Of night his grief and sorrowful fear--[118]
He comes, escaped from fields and floods;--1105
With weary pace is drawing nigh;
He sees the Ass--and nothing living
Had ever such a fit of joy
As hath [119] this little orphan Boy,
For he has no misgiving! 1110
Forth to [120] the gentle Ass he springs,
And up about his neck he climbs;
In loving words he talks to him,
He kisses, kisses face and limb,--
He kisses him a thousand times! 1115
This Peter sees, while in the shade
He stood beside the cottage-door;
And Peter Bell, the ruffian wild,
Sobs loud, he sobs even like a child,
"Oh! God, I can endure no more! " 1120
--Here ends my Tale: for in a trice
Arrived a neighbour with his horse;
Peter went forth with him straightway;
And, with due care, ere break of day,
Together they brought back the Corse. 1125
And many years did this poor Ass,
Whom once it was my luck to see
Cropping the shrubs of Leming-Lane,
Help by his labour to maintain
The Widow and her family. 1130
And Peter Bell, who, till that night,
Had been the wildest of his clan,
Forsook his crimes, renounced [121] his folly,
And, after ten months' melancholy,
Became a good and honest man. [K] 1135
* * * * *
VARIANTS ON THE TEXT
[Variant 1: 1827.
And something 1819. ]
[Variant 2:
1849.
Whose shape is like 1819.
For shape just like 1845. ]
[Variant 3:
1845.
The noise of danger fills 1819. ]
[Variant 4:
1827.
Meanwhile I from the helm admire 1819.
. . . I soberly admire C. ]
[Variant 5:
1827.
Or deep into the heavens 1819.
Or into massy clouds 1820. ]
[Variant 6:
1820.
. . . between . . . 1819. ]
[Variant 7:
1827.
. . . are ill-built,
But proud let him be who has seen them; 1819. ]
[Variant 8:
1827.
. . . between . . . 1819. ]
[Variant 9:
1827.
That darling speck . . . 1819. ]
[Variant 10:
1836.
And there it is, . . . 1819. ]
[Variant 11:
1827
. . . heartless . . . 1819. ]
[Variant 12:
In the editions of 1819 and 1820 only.
Out--out--and, like a brooding hen,
Beside your sooty hearth-stone cower;
Go, creep along the dirt, and pick
Your way with your good walking-stick,
Just three good miles an hour! ]
[Variant 13:
1827.
. . . the land . . . 1819. ]
[Variant 14:
1845.
My radiant Pinnace, you forget 1819. ]
[Variant 15:
1827.
For I myself, in very truth, 1819. ]
[Variant 16:
1845.
Off flew my sparkling Boat in scorn,
Yea in a trance of indignation! 1819.
Spurning her freight with indignation! 1820. ]
[Variant 17:
1845.
. . . to my stone-table
Limp'd on with some vexation. 1819.
. . . tow'rd my stone-table 1827. ]
[Variant 18:
1827.
. . . promptly . . . 1819. ]
[Variant 19:
1827.
Breath fail'd me as I spake--but soon
With lips, no doubt, and visage pale,
And sore too from a slight contusion,
Did I, to cover my confusion,
Begin the _promised_ Tale. 1819. ]
[Variant 20:
1820.
All by the moonlight river side
It gave three miserable groans;
"'Tis come then to a pretty pass,"
Said Peter to the groaning Ass,
"But I will _bang_ your bones! " 1819. ]
[Variant 21:
In the two editions of 1819 only.
"Good Sir! "--the Vicar's voice exclaim'd,
"You rush at once into the middle;"
And little Bess, with accent sweeter,
Cried, "O dear Sir! but who is Peter? "
Said Stephen,--"'Tis a downright riddle! "]
[Variant 22:
1836.
The Squire said, "Sure as paradise
Was lost to man by Adam's sinning,
This leap is for us all too bold; 1819.
Like winds that lash the waves, or smite
The woods, the autumnal foliage thinning--
"Hold! " said the Squire, "I pray you, hold! 1820.
The woods, autumnal foliage thinning--1827. ]
[Variant 23:
1845.
. . . its ponderous knell,
Its far-renowned alarum! 1819.
. . . his ponderous knell,
A far-renowned alarum! 1836.
. . . that ponderous knell--
His far-renowned alarum! 1840. ]
[Variant 24:
1820.
With Peter Bell, I need not tell
That this had never been the case;--1819. ]
[Variant 25:
1819.
. . . placid . . . 1820.
The text of 1827 returns to that of 1819. ]
[Variant 26:
1836.
. . . cheerfully . . . 1819. ]
[Variant 27:
1827.
Till he is brought to an old quarry, 1819. ]
[Variant 28: In the two editions of 1819 only.
"What! would'st thou daunt me grisly den?
Back must I, having come so far?
Stretch as thou wilt thy gloomy jaws,
I'll on, nor would I give two straws
For lantern or for star! "]
[Variant 29:
1820.
And so, where on the huge rough stones
The black and massy shadows lay,
And through the dark, . . . 1819. ]
[Variant 30:
1827.
. . . made . . . 1819. ]
[Variant 31: In the two editions of 1819 only.
Now you'll suppose that Peter Bell
Felt small temptation here to tarry,
And so it was,--but I must add,
His heart was not a little glad
When he was out of the old quarry. ]
[Variant 32:
1827.
Across that . . . 1819. ]
[Variant 33:
1836.
And now he is among the trees; 1819. ]
[Variant 34:
"No doubt I'm founder'd in these woods--
For once," quoth he, "I will be wise,
With better speed I'll back again--
And, lest the journey should prove vain,
Will take yon Ass, my lawful prize! "
Off Peter hied,--"A comely beast!
Though not so plump as he might be;
My honest friend, with such a platter,
You should have been a little fatter,
But come, Sir, come with me! " 1819.
(The first of these stanzas was omitted in 1827 and afterwards;
the second was withdrawn in 1820. )]
[Variant 35:
1836.
But first doth Peter deem it fit
To spy about him far and near; 1819.
"A prize," cried Peter, stepping back
To spy . . . 1827. ]
[Variant 36:
1827.
. . . Ass's back, . . . 1819. ]
[Variant 37:
1836.
With ready heel the creature's side; 1819.
With ready heel his shaggy side; 1827. ]
[Variant 38: In the editions of 1819 to 1832 only.
"What's this! " cried Peter, brandishing
A new-peel'd sapling white as cream;
The Ass knew well what Peter said,
But, as before, hung down his head
Over the silent stream. 1819.
A new-peeled sapling;--though, I deem,
The Ass knew well what Peter said,
He, as before, . . . 1820.
. . . --though I deem,
This threat was understood full well,
Firm, as before, the Sentinel
Stood by the silent stream. 1827. ]
[Variant 39:
1827.
"I'll cure you of these desperate tricks"--
And, with deliberate action slow,
His staff high-raising, in the pride
Of skill, upon the Ass's hide C. and 1819. ]
[Variant 40:
1836.
What followed? --yielding to the shock
The Ass, as if . . . 1819. ]
[Variant 41:
1836.
And then upon . . . 1819. ]
[Variant 42:
1840.
. . . as . . . 1819. ]
[Variant 43:
1819.
The Beast on his tormentor turned
A shining hazel eye. 1827.
His shining . . . 1832.
The edition of 1836 returns to the text of 1819. ]
[Variant 44:
1836.
Towards the river . . . 1819. ]
[Variant 45:
1832.
Heav'd his lank sides, . . . 1819. ]
[Variant 46: 1836. In the two editions of 1819 this stanza formed two
stanzas, thus:
All by the moonlight river side
He gave three miserable groans,
"'Tis come then to a pretty pass,"
Said Peter to the groaning ass,
"But I will _bang_ your bones! "
And Peter halts to gather breath,
And now full clearly was it shown
(What he before in part had seen)
How gaunt was the poor Ass and lean,
Yea wasted to a skeleton! 1819.
In the editions of 1820-1832, only the second of these stanzas is
retained, with the following change of text in 1827:
And, while he halts, was clearly shown
(What he before in part had seen)
How gaunt the Creature was, and lean, 1827.
In the final text of 1836 the two stanzas of 1819 are compressed into
one (ll. 446-50). ]
[Variant 47:
1836.
But, while upon the ground he lay, 1819.
That instant, while outstretched he lay, 1827. ]
[Variant 48:
1836.
A loud and piteous bray! 1819. ]
[Variant 49:
1820.
Joy on . . . 1819. ]
[Variant 50:
1836.
. . . an endless shout,
The long dry see-saw .
'Tis not a plover of the moors,
'Tis not a bittern of the fen;
Nor can it be a barking fox,
Nor night-bird chambered in the rocks,
Nor wild-cat in a woody glen! 620
The Ass is startled--and stops short
Right in the middle of the thicket;
And Peter, wont to whistle loud
Whether alone or in a crowd,
Is silent as a silent cricket. 625
What ails you now, my little Bess?
Well may you tremble and look grave!
This cry--that rings along the wood,
This cry--that floats adown the flood,
Comes from the entrance of a cave: 630
I see a blooming Wood-boy there,
And if I had the power to say
How sorrowful the wanderer is,
Your heart would be as sad as his
Till you had kissed his tears away! 635
Grasping [67] a hawthorn branch in hand,
All bright with berries ripe and red,
Into the cavern's mouth he peeps;
Thence back into the moonlight creeps;
Whom seeks he--whom? --the silent dead: [68] 640
His father! --Him doth he require--
Him hath he sought [69] with fruitless pains,
Among the rocks, behind the trees;
Now creeping on his hands and knees,
Now running o'er the open plains. 645
And hither is he come at last,
When he through such a day has gone,
By this dark cave to be distrest
Like a poor bird--her plundered nest
Hovering around with dolorous moan! 650
Of that intense and piercing cry
The listening Ass conjectures well; [70]
Wild as it is, he there can read
Some intermingled notes that plead
With touches irresistible. 655
But Peter--when he saw the Ass
Not only stop but turn, and change
The cherished tenor of his pace
That lamentable cry [71] to chase--
It wrought in him conviction strange; 660
A faith that, for the dead man's sake
And this poor slave who loved him well,
Vengeance upon his head will fall,
Some visitation worse than all
Which ever till this night befel. 665
Meanwhile the Ass to reach his home, [72]
Is striving stoutly as he may;
But, while he climbs the woody hill,
The cry grows weak--and weaker still;
And now at last it dies away. 670
So with his freight the Creature turns
Into a gloomy grove of beech,
Along the shade with footsteps [73] true
Descending slowly, till the two
The open moonlight reach. 675
And there, along the [74] narrow dell,
A fair smooth pathway you discern,
A length of green and open road--
As if it from a fountain flowed--
Winding away between the fern. 680
The rocks that tower on either side
Build up a wild fantastic scene;
Temples like those among the Hindoos,
And mosques, and spires, and abbey-windows,
And castles all with ivy green! 685
And, while the Ass pursues his way,
Along this solitary dell,
As pensively his steps advance,
The mosques and spires change countenance,
And look at Peter Bell! 690
That unintelligible cry
Hath left him high in preparation,--
Convinced that he, or soon or late,
This very night will meet his fate--
And so he sits in expectation! 695
[75]
The strenuous Animal hath clomb
With the green path; and now he wends
Where, shining like the smoothest sea,
In undisturbed immensity
A [76] level plain extends. 700
But whence this faintly-rustling sound
By which the journeying pair are chased?
--A withered leaf is close behind, [77]
Light plaything for the sportive wind
Upon that solitary waste. 705
When Peter spied the moving thing,
It only doubled his distress; [78]
"Where there is not a bush or tree,
The very leaves they follow me--
So huge hath been my wickedness! " 710
To a close lane they now are come,
Where, as before, the enduring Ass
Moves on without a moment's stop,
Nor once turns round his head to crop
A bramble-leaf or blade of grass. 715
Between the hedges as they go,
The white dust sleeps upon the lane;
And Peter, ever and anon
Back-looking, sees, upon a stone,
Or in the dust, a crimson stain. 720
A stain--as of a drop of blood
By moonlight made more faint and wan;
Ha! why these sinkings of despair? [79]
He knows not how the blood comes there--
And Peter is a wicked man. 725
At length he spies a bleeding wound,
Where he had struck the Ass's head; [80]
He sees the blood, knows what it is,--
A glimpse of sudden joy was his,
But then it quickly fled; 730
Of him whom sudden death had seized
He thought,--of thee, O faithful Ass!
And once again those ghastly pains,
Shoot to and fro through heart and reins,
And through his brain like lightning pass. [81] 735
PART THIRD
I've heard of one, a gentle Soul,
Though given to sadness and to gloom,
And for the fact will vouch,--one night
It chanced that by a taper's light
This man was reading in his room; 740
Bending, as you or I might bend
At night o'er any pious book, [82]
When sudden blackness overspread
The snow white page on which he read,
And made the good man round him look. 745
The chamber walls were dark all round,--
And to his book he turned again;
--The light had left the lonely taper, [83]
And formed itself upon the paper
Into large letters--bright and plain! 750
The godly book was in his hand--
And, on the page, more black than coal,
Appeared, set forth in strange array,
A _word_--which to his dying day
Perplexed the good man's gentle soul. 755
The ghostly word, thus plainly seen, [84]
Did never from his lips depart;
But he hath said, poor gentle wight!
It brought full many a sin to light
Out of the bottom of his heart. 760
Dread Spirits! to confound the meek [85]
Why wander from your course so far,
Disordering colour, form, and stature!
--Let good men feel the soul of nature,
And see things as they are. 765
Yet, potent Spirits! well I know,
How ye, that play with soul and sense,
Are not unused to trouble friends
Of goodness, for most gracious ends--[86]
And this I speak in reverence! 770
But might I give advice to you,
Whom in my fear I love so well;
From men of pensive virtue go,
Dread Beings! and your empire show
On hearts like that of Peter Bell. 775
Your presence often have I [87] felt
In darkness and the stormy night;
And, with like force, [88] if need there be,
Ye can put forth your agency
When earth is calm, and heaven is bright. 780
Then, coming from the wayward world,
That powerful world in which ye dwell,
Come, Spirits of the Mind! and try,
To-night, beneath the moonlight sky,
What may be done with Peter Bell! 785
--O, would that some more skilful voice
My further labour might prevent!
Kind Listeners, that around me sit,
I feel that I am all unfit
For such high argument. 790
I've played, I've danced, [89] with my narration;
I loitered long ere I began:
Ye waited then on my good pleasure;
Pour out indulgence still, in measure
As liberal as ye can! 795
Our Travellers, ye remember well,
Are thridding a sequestered lane;
And Peter many tricks is trying,
And many anodynes applying,
To ease his conscience of its pain. 800
By this his heart is lighter far;
And, finding that he can account
So snugly [90] for that crimson stain,
His evil spirit up again
Does like an empty bucket mount. 805
And Peter is a deep logician
Who hath no lack of wit mercurial;
"Blood drops--leaves rustle--yet," quoth he,
"This poor man never, but for me,
Could have had Christian burial. 810
"And, say the best you can, 'tis plain,
That here has [91] been some wicked dealing;
No doubt the devil in me wrought;
I'm not the man who could have thought
An Ass like this was worth the stealing! " 815
So from his pocket Peter takes
His shining horn tobacco-box;
And, in a light and careless way,
As men who with their purpose play,
Upon the lid he knocks. 820
Let them whose voice can stop the clouds,
Whose cunning eye can see the wind,
Tell to a curious world the cause
Why, making here a sudden pause,
The Ass turned round his head, and _grinned_. 825
Appalling process! I have marked
The like on heath, in lonely wood;
And, verily, have seldom met
A spectacle more hideous--yet
It suited Peter's present mood. 830
And, grinning in his turn, his teeth
He in jocose defiance showed--
When, to upset [92] his spiteful mirth,
A murmur, pent within the earth,
In the dead earth beneath the road, 835
Rolled audibly! it swept along,
A muffled noise--a rumbling sound! --
'Twas by a troop of miners made,
Plying with gunpowder their trade,
Some twenty fathoms underground. 840
Small cause of dire effect! for, surely,
If ever mortal, King or Cotter,
Believed that earth was charged to quake
And yawn for his unworthy sake,
'Twas Peter Bell the Potter. 845
But, as an oak in breathless air
Will stand though to the centre hewn;
Or as the weakest things, if frost
Have stiffened them, maintain their post;
So he, beneath the gazing moon! --850
The Beast bestriding thus, he reached
A spot where, in a sheltering cove, [93]
A little chapel stands alone,
With greenest ivy overgrown,
And tufted with an ivy grove; 855
Dying insensibly away
From human thoughts and purposes,
It seemed--wall, window, roof and tower [94]--
To bow to some transforming power,
And blend with the surrounding trees. 860
As ruinous a place it was,
Thought Peter, in the shire of Fife
That served my turn, when following still
From land to land a reckless will [95]
I married my sixth wife! 865
The unheeding Ass moves slowly on,
And now is passing by an inn
Brim-full of a carousing crew,
That make, [96] with curses not a few,
An uproar and a drunken din. 870
I cannot well express the thoughts
Which Peter in those noises found;--
A stifling power compressed his frame,
While-as a swimming darkness came [97]
Over that dull and dreary sound. 875
For well did Peter know the sound;
The language of those drunken joys
To him, a jovial soul, I ween,
But a few hours ago, had been
A gladsome and a welcome noise. 880
_Now_, [98] turned adrift into the past,
He finds no solace in his course;
Like planet-stricken men of yore,
He trembles, smitten to the core
By strong compunction and remorse. 885
But, more than all, his heart is stung
To think of one, almost a child;
A sweet and playful Highland girl,
As light and beauteous as a squirrel,
As beauteous and as wild! 890
Her dwelling was a lonely house, [99]
A cottage in a heathy dell;
And she put on her gown of green,
And left her mother at sixteen,
And followed Peter Bell. 895
But many good and pious thoughts
Had she; and, in the kirk to pray,
Two long Scotch miles, through rain or snow,
To kirk she had been used to go,
Twice every Sabbath-day. 900
And, when she followed Peter Bell,
It was to lead an honest life;
For he, with tongue not used to falter,
Had pledged his troth before the altar
To love her as his wedded wife. 905
A mother's hope is hers;--but soon
She drooped and pined like one forlorn;
From Scripture she a name [100] did borrow;
Benoni, or the child of sorrow,
She called her babe unborn. 910
For she had learned how Peter lived,
And took it in most grievous part;
She to the very bone was worn,
And, ere that little child was born,
Died of a broken heart. 915
And now the Spirits of the Mind
Are busy with poor Peter Bell;
Upon the rights of visual sense
Usurping, with a prevalence
More terrible than magic spell. [101] 920
Close by a brake of flowering furze
(Above it shivering aspens play)
He sees an unsubstantial creature,
His very self in form and feature,
Not four yards from the broad highway: 925
And stretched beneath the furze he sees
The Highland girl--it is no other;
And hears her crying as she cried,
The very moment that she died,
"My mother! oh my mother! " 930
The sweat pours down from Peter's face,
So grievous is his heart's contrition;
With agony his eye-balls ache
While he beholds by the furze-brake
This miserable vision! 935
Calm is the well-deserving brute,
_His_ peace hath no offence betrayed;
But now, while down that slope he wends,
A voice to Peter's ear [102] ascends,
Resounding from the woody glade: 940
The voice, though clamorous as a horn
Re-echoed by a naked rock,
Comes from that tabernacle--List! [103]
Within, a fervent [104] Methodist
Is preaching to no heedless flock! 945
"Repent! repent! " he cries aloud,
"While yet ye may find mercy;--strive
To love the Lord with all your might;
Turn to him, seek him day and night,
And save your souls alive! 950
"Repent! repent! though ye have gone,
Through paths of wickedness and woe,
After the Babylonian harlot;
And, though your sins be red as scarlet,
They shall be white as snow! " 955
Even as he passed the door, these words
Did plainly come to Peter's ears;
And they such joyful tidings were,
The joy was more than he could bear! --
He melted into tears. 960
Sweet tears of hope and tenderness!
And fast they fell, a plenteous shower!
His nerves, his sinews seemed to melt;
Through all his iron frame was felt
A gentle, a relaxing, power! 965
Each fibre of his frame was weak;
Weak all the animal within;
But, in its helplessness, grew mild
And gentle as an infant child,
An infant that has known no sin. 970
'Tis said, meek Beast! that, through Heaven's grace,[105] [H]
He not unmoved did notice now
The cross [I] upon thy shoulder scored,
For lasting impress, by the Lord [106]
To whom all human-kind shall bow; 975
Memorial of his touch--that day [107]
When Jesus humbly deigned to ride,
Entering the proud Jerusalem,
By an immeasurable stream [J]
Of shouting people deified! 980
Meanwhile the persevering Ass,
Turned towards a gate that hung in view
Across a shady lane; [108] his chest
Against the yielding gate he pressed
And quietly passed through. 985
And up the stony lane he goes;
No ghost more softly ever trod;
Among the stones and pebbles, he
Sets down his hoofs inaudibly,
As if with felt his hoofs were shod. 990
Along the lane the trusty Ass
Went twice two hundred yards or more,
And no one could have guessed his aim,--
Till to a lonely house he came,
And stopped beside the door. [109] 995
Thought Peter, 'tis the poor man's home!
He listens--not a sound is heard
Save from the trickling household rill;
But, stepping o'er the cottage-sill,
Forthwith a little Girl appeared. 1000
She to the Meeting-house was bound
In hopes [110] some tidings there to gather:
No glimpse it is, no doubtful gleam;
She saw--and uttered with a scream,
"My father! here's my father! " 1005
The very word was plainly heard,
Heard plainly by the wretched Mother--
Her joy was like a deep affright:
And forth she rushed into the light,
And saw it was another! 1010
And, instantly, upon the earth,
Beneath the full moon shining bright,
Close to [111] the Ass's feet she fell;
At the same moment Peter Bell
Dismounts in most unhappy plight. 1015
As he beheld the Woman lie [112]
Breathless and motionless, the mind
Of Peter sadly was confused;
But, though to such demands unused,
And helpless almost as the blind, 1020
He raised her up; and, while he held
Her body propped against his knee,
The Woman waked--and when she spied
The poor Ass standing by her side,
She moaned most bitterly. 1025
"Oh! God be praised--my heart's at ease--
For he is dead--I know it well! "
--At this she wept a bitter flood;
And, in the best way that he could,
His tale did Peter tell. 1030
He trembles--he is pale as death;
His voice is weak with perturbation;
He turns aside his head, he pauses;
Poor Peter from a thousand causes,
Is crippled sore in his narration. 1035
At length she learned how he espied
The Ass in that small meadow-ground;
And that her Husband now lay dead,
Beside that luckless river's bed
In which he had been drowned. 1040
A piercing look the Widow [113] cast
Upon the Beast that near her stands;
She sees 'tis he, that 'tis the same;
She calls the poor Ass by his name,
And wrings, and wrings her hands. 1045
"O wretched loss--untimely stroke!
If he had died upon his bed!
He knew not one forewarning pain;
He never will come home again--
Is dead, for ever dead! " 1050
Beside the Woman Peter stands;
His heart is opening more and more;
A holy sense pervades his mind;
He feels what he for human-kind
Had never felt before. 1055
At length, by Peter's arm sustained,
The Woman rises from the ground--
"Oh, mercy! something must be done,
My little Rachel, you must run,--
Some willing neighbour must be found. 1060
"Make haste--my little Rachel--do,
The first you meet with--bid him come,
Ask him to lend his horse to-night,
And this good Man, whom Heaven requite,
Will help to bring the body home. " 1065
Away goes Rachel weeping loud;--
An Infant, waked by her distress,
Makes in the house a piteous cry;
And Peter hears the Mother sigh,
"Seven are they, and all fatherless! " 1070
And now is Peter taught to feel
That man's heart is a holy thing;
And Nature, through a world of death,
Breathes into him a second breath,
More searching than the breath of spring. 1075
Upon a stone the Woman sits
In agony of silent grief--
From his own thoughts did Peter start;
He longs to press her to his heart,
From love that cannot find relief. 1080
But roused, as if through every limb
Had past a sudden shock of dread,
The Mother o'er the threshold flies,
And up the cottage stairs [114] she hies,
And on the pillow lays [115] her burning head. 1085
And Peter turns his steps aside
Into a shade of darksome trees,
Where he sits down, he knows not how,
With his hands pressed against his brow,
His elbows on [116] his tremulous knees. 1090
There, self-involved, does Peter sit
Until no sign of life he makes,
As if his mind were sinking deep
Through years that have been long asleep!
The trance is passed away--he wakes; 1095
He lifts [117] his head--and sees the Ass
Yet standing in the clear moonshine;
"When shall I be as good as thou?
Oh! would, poor beast, that I had now
A heart but half as good as thine! " 1100
But _He_--who deviously hath sought
His Father through the lonesome woods,
Hath sought, proclaiming to the ear
Of night his grief and sorrowful fear--[118]
He comes, escaped from fields and floods;--1105
With weary pace is drawing nigh;
He sees the Ass--and nothing living
Had ever such a fit of joy
As hath [119] this little orphan Boy,
For he has no misgiving! 1110
Forth to [120] the gentle Ass he springs,
And up about his neck he climbs;
In loving words he talks to him,
He kisses, kisses face and limb,--
He kisses him a thousand times! 1115
This Peter sees, while in the shade
He stood beside the cottage-door;
And Peter Bell, the ruffian wild,
Sobs loud, he sobs even like a child,
"Oh! God, I can endure no more! " 1120
--Here ends my Tale: for in a trice
Arrived a neighbour with his horse;
Peter went forth with him straightway;
And, with due care, ere break of day,
Together they brought back the Corse. 1125
And many years did this poor Ass,
Whom once it was my luck to see
Cropping the shrubs of Leming-Lane,
Help by his labour to maintain
The Widow and her family. 1130
And Peter Bell, who, till that night,
Had been the wildest of his clan,
Forsook his crimes, renounced [121] his folly,
And, after ten months' melancholy,
Became a good and honest man. [K] 1135
* * * * *
VARIANTS ON THE TEXT
[Variant 1: 1827.
And something 1819. ]
[Variant 2:
1849.
Whose shape is like 1819.
For shape just like 1845. ]
[Variant 3:
1845.
The noise of danger fills 1819. ]
[Variant 4:
1827.
Meanwhile I from the helm admire 1819.
. . . I soberly admire C. ]
[Variant 5:
1827.
Or deep into the heavens 1819.
Or into massy clouds 1820. ]
[Variant 6:
1820.
. . . between . . . 1819. ]
[Variant 7:
1827.
. . . are ill-built,
But proud let him be who has seen them; 1819. ]
[Variant 8:
1827.
. . . between . . . 1819. ]
[Variant 9:
1827.
That darling speck . . . 1819. ]
[Variant 10:
1836.
And there it is, . . . 1819. ]
[Variant 11:
1827
. . . heartless . . . 1819. ]
[Variant 12:
In the editions of 1819 and 1820 only.
Out--out--and, like a brooding hen,
Beside your sooty hearth-stone cower;
Go, creep along the dirt, and pick
Your way with your good walking-stick,
Just three good miles an hour! ]
[Variant 13:
1827.
. . . the land . . . 1819. ]
[Variant 14:
1845.
My radiant Pinnace, you forget 1819. ]
[Variant 15:
1827.
For I myself, in very truth, 1819. ]
[Variant 16:
1845.
Off flew my sparkling Boat in scorn,
Yea in a trance of indignation! 1819.
Spurning her freight with indignation! 1820. ]
[Variant 17:
1845.
. . . to my stone-table
Limp'd on with some vexation. 1819.
. . . tow'rd my stone-table 1827. ]
[Variant 18:
1827.
. . . promptly . . . 1819. ]
[Variant 19:
1827.
Breath fail'd me as I spake--but soon
With lips, no doubt, and visage pale,
And sore too from a slight contusion,
Did I, to cover my confusion,
Begin the _promised_ Tale. 1819. ]
[Variant 20:
1820.
All by the moonlight river side
It gave three miserable groans;
"'Tis come then to a pretty pass,"
Said Peter to the groaning Ass,
"But I will _bang_ your bones! " 1819. ]
[Variant 21:
In the two editions of 1819 only.
"Good Sir! "--the Vicar's voice exclaim'd,
"You rush at once into the middle;"
And little Bess, with accent sweeter,
Cried, "O dear Sir! but who is Peter? "
Said Stephen,--"'Tis a downright riddle! "]
[Variant 22:
1836.
The Squire said, "Sure as paradise
Was lost to man by Adam's sinning,
This leap is for us all too bold; 1819.
Like winds that lash the waves, or smite
The woods, the autumnal foliage thinning--
"Hold! " said the Squire, "I pray you, hold! 1820.
The woods, autumnal foliage thinning--1827. ]
[Variant 23:
1845.
. . . its ponderous knell,
Its far-renowned alarum! 1819.
. . . his ponderous knell,
A far-renowned alarum! 1836.
. . . that ponderous knell--
His far-renowned alarum! 1840. ]
[Variant 24:
1820.
With Peter Bell, I need not tell
That this had never been the case;--1819. ]
[Variant 25:
1819.
. . . placid . . . 1820.
The text of 1827 returns to that of 1819. ]
[Variant 26:
1836.
. . . cheerfully . . . 1819. ]
[Variant 27:
1827.
Till he is brought to an old quarry, 1819. ]
[Variant 28: In the two editions of 1819 only.
"What! would'st thou daunt me grisly den?
Back must I, having come so far?
Stretch as thou wilt thy gloomy jaws,
I'll on, nor would I give two straws
For lantern or for star! "]
[Variant 29:
1820.
And so, where on the huge rough stones
The black and massy shadows lay,
And through the dark, . . . 1819. ]
[Variant 30:
1827.
. . . made . . . 1819. ]
[Variant 31: In the two editions of 1819 only.
Now you'll suppose that Peter Bell
Felt small temptation here to tarry,
And so it was,--but I must add,
His heart was not a little glad
When he was out of the old quarry. ]
[Variant 32:
1827.
Across that . . . 1819. ]
[Variant 33:
1836.
And now he is among the trees; 1819. ]
[Variant 34:
"No doubt I'm founder'd in these woods--
For once," quoth he, "I will be wise,
With better speed I'll back again--
And, lest the journey should prove vain,
Will take yon Ass, my lawful prize! "
Off Peter hied,--"A comely beast!
Though not so plump as he might be;
My honest friend, with such a platter,
You should have been a little fatter,
But come, Sir, come with me! " 1819.
(The first of these stanzas was omitted in 1827 and afterwards;
the second was withdrawn in 1820. )]
[Variant 35:
1836.
But first doth Peter deem it fit
To spy about him far and near; 1819.
"A prize," cried Peter, stepping back
To spy . . . 1827. ]
[Variant 36:
1827.
. . . Ass's back, . . . 1819. ]
[Variant 37:
1836.
With ready heel the creature's side; 1819.
With ready heel his shaggy side; 1827. ]
[Variant 38: In the editions of 1819 to 1832 only.
"What's this! " cried Peter, brandishing
A new-peel'd sapling white as cream;
The Ass knew well what Peter said,
But, as before, hung down his head
Over the silent stream. 1819.
A new-peeled sapling;--though, I deem,
The Ass knew well what Peter said,
He, as before, . . . 1820.
. . . --though I deem,
This threat was understood full well,
Firm, as before, the Sentinel
Stood by the silent stream. 1827. ]
[Variant 39:
1827.
"I'll cure you of these desperate tricks"--
And, with deliberate action slow,
His staff high-raising, in the pride
Of skill, upon the Ass's hide C. and 1819. ]
[Variant 40:
1836.
What followed? --yielding to the shock
The Ass, as if . . . 1819. ]
[Variant 41:
1836.
And then upon . . . 1819. ]
[Variant 42:
1840.
. . . as . . . 1819. ]
[Variant 43:
1819.
The Beast on his tormentor turned
A shining hazel eye. 1827.
His shining . . . 1832.
The edition of 1836 returns to the text of 1819. ]
[Variant 44:
1836.
Towards the river . . . 1819. ]
[Variant 45:
1832.
Heav'd his lank sides, . . . 1819. ]
[Variant 46: 1836. In the two editions of 1819 this stanza formed two
stanzas, thus:
All by the moonlight river side
He gave three miserable groans,
"'Tis come then to a pretty pass,"
Said Peter to the groaning ass,
"But I will _bang_ your bones! "
And Peter halts to gather breath,
And now full clearly was it shown
(What he before in part had seen)
How gaunt was the poor Ass and lean,
Yea wasted to a skeleton! 1819.
In the editions of 1820-1832, only the second of these stanzas is
retained, with the following change of text in 1827:
And, while he halts, was clearly shown
(What he before in part had seen)
How gaunt the Creature was, and lean, 1827.
In the final text of 1836 the two stanzas of 1819 are compressed into
one (ll. 446-50). ]
[Variant 47:
1836.
But, while upon the ground he lay, 1819.
That instant, while outstretched he lay, 1827. ]
[Variant 48:
1836.
A loud and piteous bray! 1819. ]
[Variant 49:
1820.
Joy on . . . 1819. ]
[Variant 50:
1836.
. . . an endless shout,
The long dry see-saw .
