Is it a gallows [53] there
portrayed?
William Wordsworth
445
All by the moonlight river side
He gave three miserable groans;
And not till now hath Peter seen
How gaunt the Creature is,--how lean
And sharp his staring bones! [46] 450
With legs stretched out and stiff he lay:--
No word of kind commiseration
Fell at the sight from Peter's tongue;
With hard contempt his heart was wrung,
With hatred and vexation. 455
The meagre beast lay still as death;
And Peter's lips with fury quiver;
Quoth he, "You little mulish dog,
I'll fling your carcass like a log
Head-foremost down the river! " 460
An impious oath confirmed the threat--
Whereat from the earth on which he lay [47]
To all the echoes, south and north,
And east and west, the Ass sent forth
A long and clamorous bray! [48] 465
This outcry, on the heart of Peter,
Seems like a note of joy to strike,--
Joy at [49] the heart of Peter knocks;
But in the echo of the rocks
Was something Peter did not like. 470
Whether to cheer his coward breast,
Or that he could not break the chain,
In this serene and solemn hour,
Twined round him by demoniac power,
To the blind work he turned again. 475
Among the rocks and winding crags;
Among the mountains far away;
Once more the Ass did lengthen out
More ruefully a deep-drawn shout,
The hard dry see-saw of his horrible bray! [50] 480
What is there now in Peter's heart!
Or whence the might of this strange sound?
The moon uneasy looked and dimmer,
The broad blue heavens appeared to glimmer,
And the rocks staggered all around--485
From Peter's hand the sapling dropped!
Threat has he none to execute;
"If any one should come and see
That I am here, they'll think," quoth he,
"I'm helping this poor dying brute. " 490
He scans the Ass from limb to limb,
And ventures now to uplift his eyes;
More steady looks the moon, and clear,
More like themselves the rocks appear
And touch more quiet skies. [51] 495
His scorn returns--his hate revives;
He stoops the Ass's neck to seize
With malice--that again takes flight;
For in the pool a startling sight
Meets him, among the inverted trees. [52] 500
Is it the moon's distorted face?
The ghost-like image of a cloud?
Is it a gallows [53] there portrayed?
Is Peter of himself afraid?
Is it a coffin,--or a shroud? 505
A grisly idol hewn in stone?
Or imp from witch's lap let fall?
Perhaps a ring of shining fairies?
Such as pursue their feared vagaries [54]
In sylvan bower, or haunted hall? 510
Is it a fiend that to a stake
Of fire his desperate self is tethering?
Or stubborn spirit doomed to yell
In solitary ward or cell,
Ten thousand miles from all his brethren? 515
[55]
Never did pulse so quickly throb,
And never heart so loudly panted; [56]
He looks, he cannot choose but look;
Like some one reading in a book--[57]
A book that is enchanted. 520
Ah, well-a-day for Peter Bell!
He will be turned to iron soon,
Meet Statue for the court of Fear!
His hat is up--and every hair
Bristles, and whitens in the moon! 525
He looks, he ponders, looks again;
He sees a motion--hears a groan;
His eyes will burst--his heart will break--
He gives a loud and frightful shriek,
And back he falls, [58] as if his life were flown! 530
PART SECOND
We left our Hero in a trance,
Beneath the alders, near the river;
The Ass is by the river-side,
And, where the feeble breezes glide,
Upon the stream the moonbeams quiver. 535
A happy respite!
All by the moonlight river side
He gave three miserable groans;
And not till now hath Peter seen
How gaunt the Creature is,--how lean
And sharp his staring bones! [46] 450
With legs stretched out and stiff he lay:--
No word of kind commiseration
Fell at the sight from Peter's tongue;
With hard contempt his heart was wrung,
With hatred and vexation. 455
The meagre beast lay still as death;
And Peter's lips with fury quiver;
Quoth he, "You little mulish dog,
I'll fling your carcass like a log
Head-foremost down the river! " 460
An impious oath confirmed the threat--
Whereat from the earth on which he lay [47]
To all the echoes, south and north,
And east and west, the Ass sent forth
A long and clamorous bray! [48] 465
This outcry, on the heart of Peter,
Seems like a note of joy to strike,--
Joy at [49] the heart of Peter knocks;
But in the echo of the rocks
Was something Peter did not like. 470
Whether to cheer his coward breast,
Or that he could not break the chain,
In this serene and solemn hour,
Twined round him by demoniac power,
To the blind work he turned again. 475
Among the rocks and winding crags;
Among the mountains far away;
Once more the Ass did lengthen out
More ruefully a deep-drawn shout,
The hard dry see-saw of his horrible bray! [50] 480
What is there now in Peter's heart!
Or whence the might of this strange sound?
The moon uneasy looked and dimmer,
The broad blue heavens appeared to glimmer,
And the rocks staggered all around--485
From Peter's hand the sapling dropped!
Threat has he none to execute;
"If any one should come and see
That I am here, they'll think," quoth he,
"I'm helping this poor dying brute. " 490
He scans the Ass from limb to limb,
And ventures now to uplift his eyes;
More steady looks the moon, and clear,
More like themselves the rocks appear
And touch more quiet skies. [51] 495
His scorn returns--his hate revives;
He stoops the Ass's neck to seize
With malice--that again takes flight;
For in the pool a startling sight
Meets him, among the inverted trees. [52] 500
Is it the moon's distorted face?
The ghost-like image of a cloud?
Is it a gallows [53] there portrayed?
Is Peter of himself afraid?
Is it a coffin,--or a shroud? 505
A grisly idol hewn in stone?
Or imp from witch's lap let fall?
Perhaps a ring of shining fairies?
Such as pursue their feared vagaries [54]
In sylvan bower, or haunted hall? 510
Is it a fiend that to a stake
Of fire his desperate self is tethering?
Or stubborn spirit doomed to yell
In solitary ward or cell,
Ten thousand miles from all his brethren? 515
[55]
Never did pulse so quickly throb,
And never heart so loudly panted; [56]
He looks, he cannot choose but look;
Like some one reading in a book--[57]
A book that is enchanted. 520
Ah, well-a-day for Peter Bell!
He will be turned to iron soon,
Meet Statue for the court of Fear!
His hat is up--and every hair
Bristles, and whitens in the moon! 525
He looks, he ponders, looks again;
He sees a motion--hears a groan;
His eyes will burst--his heart will break--
He gives a loud and frightful shriek,
And back he falls, [58] as if his life were flown! 530
PART SECOND
We left our Hero in a trance,
Beneath the alders, near the river;
The Ass is by the river-side,
And, where the feeble breezes glide,
Upon the stream the moonbeams quiver. 535
A happy respite!
