The Poetical Works of William Wordsworth Volume Ii Part 5

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-b.a.l.l.s 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 pa.s.sed 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 a.s.s, Turned towards a gate that hung in view Across a shady lane; [108] his chest Against the yielding gate he pressed And quietly pa.s.sed 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 a.s.s 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 a.s.s'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 a.s.s standing by her side, She moaned most bitterly. 1025

"Oh! G.o.d 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 a.s.s 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 a.s.s 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 pa.s.sed away--he wakes; 1095

He lifts [117] his head--and sees the a.s.s Yet standing in the clear moonshine; "When shall I be as good as thou?