large/5160/peterbell_1807_librivox_64kb_mp3/peterbellatale_03_wordsworth_64kb_15
large/5160/peterbell_1807_librivox_64kb_mp3/peterbellatale_03_wordsworth_64kb
English
5160
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! 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
herished 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! LE BUT PETER WHEN HE SAW THE ASS NOT ONLY STOP BUT TURN AND CHANGE THE CHERISHED TENOR OF HIS PACE THAT LAMENTABLE CRY TO CHASE IT WROUGHT IN HIM CONVICTION STRANGE 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 BEFELL MEANWHILE THE ASS TO REACH HIS HOME 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 SO WITH HIS FRIGHT THE CREATURE TURNS INTO A GLOOMY GROVE OF BEECH ALONG THE SHADE WITH FOOTSTEPS TRUE DESCENDING SLOWLY TILL THE TWO THE OPEN MOONLIGHT REACH AND THERE ALONG THE 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 THE ROCKS THAT TOWER ON EITHER SIDE BUILD UP A WILD FANTASTIC SCENE TEMPLES LIKE THOSE AMONG THE HINDUS AND MOSQUES AND SPIRES AND ABBEY WINDOWS AND CASTLES ALL WITH IVY GREEN
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