large/5160/peterbell_1807_librivox_64kb_mp3/peterbellatale_04_wordsworth_64kb_64
large/5160/peterbell_1807_librivox_64kb_mp3/peterbellatale_04_wordsworth_64kb
English
5160
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. NOW 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
pot 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. IR POST SO HE BENEATH THE GAZING MOON THE BEAST BESTRIDING THUS HE REACHED A SPOT WHERE IN A SHELTERING COVE A LITTLE CHAPEL STANDS ALONE WITH GREENEST IVY OVERGROWN AND TUFTED WITH AN IVY GROVE DYING INSENSIBLY AWAY FROM HUMAN THOUGHTS AND PURPOSES IT SEEMED WALL WINDOW ROOF AND TOWER TO BOW TO SOME TRANSFORMING POWER AND BLEND WITH THE SURROUNDING TREES 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 I MARRIED MY SIXTH WIFE THE UNHEEDING ASS MOVES SLOWLY ON AND NOW IS PASSING BY AN INN BRIM FULL OF A CAROUSING CREW THAT MAKE WITH CURSES NOT A FEW AN UPROAR AND A DRUNKEN DIN I CANNOT WELL EXPRESS THE THOUGHTS WHICH PETER IN THOSE NOISES FOUND A STIFLING POWER COMPRESSED HIS FRAME WHILE AS A SWIMMING DARKNESS CAME OVER THAT DULL AND DREARY SOUND 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
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