large/5160/peterbell_1807_librivox_64kb_mp3/peterbellatale_04_wordsworth_64kb_72
large/5160/peterbell_1807_librivox_64kb_mp3/peterbellatale_04_wordsworth_64kb
English
5160
1100 But _He_  who deviously hath sought His Father through the lonesome woods, Hath sought, proclaiming to the ear Of night his grief and sorrowful fear  [118] He comes, escaped from fields and floods;  1105 With weary pace is drawing nigh; He sees the Ass  and nothing living Had ever such a fit of joy As hath [119] this little orphan Boy, For he has no misgiving! BUT HE WHO DEVIOUSLY HATH SOUGHT HIS FATHER THROUGH THE LONESOME WOODS HATH SOUGHT PROCLAIMING TO THE EAR OF NIGHT HIS GRIEF AND SORROWFUL FEAR HE COMES ESCAPED FROM FIELDS AND FLOODS WITH WEARY PACES DRAWING NIGH HE SEES THE ASS AND NOTHING LIVING HAD EVER SUCH A FIT OF JOY AS HATH THIS LITTLE ORPHAN BOY FOR HE HAS NO MISGIVING
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 passed away--he wakes; 1095 He lifts [117] his head--and sees the Ass Yet standing in the clear moonshine; "When shall I be as good as thou? Oh! would, poor beast, that I had now A heart but half as good as thine! 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 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 BUT ROUSED AS IF THROUGH EVERY LIMB HAD PASSED A SUDDEN SHOCK OF DREAD THE MOTHER O'ER THE THRESHOLD FLIES AND UP THE COTTAGE STAIRS SHE HIES AND ON THE PILLOW LAYS HER BURNING HEAD 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 HIS TREMULOUS KNEES 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 PASSED AWAY HE WAKES HE LIFTS HIS HEAD AND SEES THE ASS YET STANDING IN THE CLEAR MOONSHINE WHEN SHALL I BE AS GOOD AS THOU OH WOULD POOR BEAST THAT I HAD NOW A HEART BUT HALF AS GOOD AS THINE
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