No More Learning

. 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.

. . .