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36
PETER BELL.
Part I.
This outcry, on the heart of Peter,
Seems like a note of joy to strike,—
Joy on the heart of Peter knocks;—
But in the echo of the rocks
Was something Peter did not like.
Whether to cheer his coward breast,
Or that he could not break the chain,
In this serene and solemn hour,
Twin'd round him by demoniac power,
To the blind work he turn'd again.—
Among the rocks and winding crags—
Among the mountains far away—
Once more the Ass did lengthen out
More ruefully an endless shout,
The long dry see-saw of his horrible bray!
