No More Learning

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!