large/5160/peterbell_1807_librivox_64kb_mp3/peterbellatale_03_wordsworth_64kb_22
large/5160/peterbell_1807_librivox_64kb_mp3/peterbellatale_03_wordsworth_64kb
English
5160
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. 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
ns, Among the rocks, behind the trees; Now creeping on his hands and knees, Now running o'er the open plains. 645 And hither is he come at last, When he through such a day has gone, By this dark cave to be distrest Like a poor bird--her plundered nest Hovering around with dolorous moan! 650 Of that intense and piercing cry The listening Ass conjectures well; [70] Wild as it is, he there can read Some intermingled notes that plead With touches irresistible. 655 But Peter--when he saw the Ass Not only stop but turn, and change The cherished 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. ER HIM DOTH HE REQUIRE HIM HATH HE SOUGHT WITH FRUITLESS PAINS AMONG THE ROCKS BEHIND THE TREES NOW CREEPING ON HIS HANDS AND KNEES NOW RUNNING O'ER THE OPEN PLAINS AND HITHER IS HE COME AT LAST WHEN HE THROUGH SUCH A DAY HAS GONE BY THIS DARK CAVE TO BE DISTRESSED LIKE A POOR BIRD HER PLUNDERED NEST HOVERING AROUND WITH DOLOROUS MOAN OF THAT INTENSE AND PIERCING CRY THE LISTENING ASS CONJECTURES WELL WILD AS IT IS HE THERE CAN READ SOME INTERMINGLED NOTES THAT PLEAD WITH TOUCHES IRRESISTIBLE 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
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