large/5160/peterbell_1807_librivox_64kb_mp3/peterbellatale_03_wordsworth_64kb_0
large/5160/peterbell_1807_librivox_64kb_mp3/peterbellatale_03_wordsworth_64kb
English
5160
550 Thought he, that is the face of one In his last sleep securely bound! So toward the stream his head he bent, And downward thrust his staff, intent The river's depth to sound. THOUGHT HE THAT IS THE FACE OF ONE IN HIS LAST SLEEP SECURELY BOUND SO TOWARD THE STREAM HIS HEAD HE BENT AND DOWNWARD THRUST HIS STAFF INTENT THE RIVER'S DEPTH TO SOUND
 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! but at length He feels the glimmering of the moon; Wakes with glazed eye, and feebly sighing-- To sink, perhaps, where he is lying, Into a second swoon! [59] 540 He lifts his head, he sees his staff; He touches--'tis to him a treasure! Faint recollection seems to tell That he is yet where mortals dwell-- A thought received with languid pleasure! 545 His head upon his elbow propped, Becoming less and less perplexed, Sky-ward he looks--to rock and wood-- And then--upon the glassy [60] flood His wandering eye is fixed.  PART SECOND OF PETER BELL BY WILLIAM WORDSWORTH THIS LIBER OF OX RECORDING IS IN THE PUBLIC DOMAIN PART SECOND WE LEFT OUR HERO IN A TRANCE BENEATH THE ALDERS NEAR THE RIVER THE ASSES BY THE RIVER SIDE AND WHERE THE FEEBLE BREEZES GLIDE UPON THE STREAM THE MOONBEAMS QUIVER A HAPPY RESPITE BUT AT LENGTH HE FEELS THE GLIMMERING OF THE MOON WAKES WITH GLAZED EYE AND FEEBLY SIGHING TO SINK PERHAPS WHERE HE IS LYING INTO A SECOND SWOON HE LIFTS HIS HEAD HE SEES HIS STAFF HE TOUCHES TIS TO HIM A TREASURE FAINT RECOLLECTION SEEMS TO TELL THAT HE IS YET WHERE MORTALS DWELL A THOUGHT RECEIVED WITH LANGUID PLEASURE HIS HEAD UPON HIS ELBOW PROPPED BECOMING LESS AND LESS PERPLEXED SKYWARD HE LOOKS TO ROCK AND WOOD AND THEN UPON THE GLASSY FLOOD HIS WANDERING EYE IS FIXED
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