PART V—GRACE
351
iv
He spoke of poetry, and how
'Divine it was—a light—a love—
A spirit which like wind doth blow
As it listeth, to and fro; 391
A dew rained down from God above;
He spoke of poetry, and how
'Divine it was—a light—a love—
A spirit which like wind doth blow
As it listeth, to and fro; 391
A dew rained down from God above;
v
'A power which comes and goes like dream,
And which none can ever trace—
Heaven's light on earth—Truth's brightest beam.' 395
And when he ceased there lay the gleam
Of those words upon his face.
'A power which comes and goes like dream,
And which none can ever trace—
Heaven's light on earth—Truth's brightest beam.' 395
And when he ceased there lay the gleam
Of those words upon his face.
vi
Now Peter, when he heard such talk,
Would, heedless of a broken pate,
Stand like a man asleep, or balk 400
Some wishing guest of knife or fork,
Or drop and break his master's plate.
Now Peter, when he heard such talk,
Would, heedless of a broken pate,
Stand like a man asleep, or balk 400
Some wishing guest of knife or fork,
Or drop and break his master's plate.
vii
At night he oft would start and wake
Like a lover, and began
In a wild measure songs to make 405
On moor, and glen, and rocky lake,
And on the heart of man—
At night he oft would start and wake
Like a lover, and began
In a wild measure songs to make 405
On moor, and glen, and rocky lake,
And on the heart of man—
viii
And on the universal sky—
And the wide earth's bosom green,—
And the sweet, strange mystery 410
Of what beyond these things may lie.
And yet remain unseen.
And on the universal sky—
And the wide earth's bosom green,—
And the sweet, strange mystery 410
Of what beyond these things may lie.
And yet remain unseen.
ix
For in his thought he visited
The spots in which, ere dead and damned,
He his wayward life had led; 415
Yet knew not whence the thoughts were fed
Which thus his fancy crammed.
For in his thought he visited
The spots in which, ere dead and damned,
He his wayward life had led; 415
Yet knew not whence the thoughts were fed
Which thus his fancy crammed.
x
And these obscure remembrances
Stirred such harmony in Peter,
That, whensoever he should please.
He could speak of rocks and trees 421
In poetic metre.
And these obscure remembrances
Stirred such harmony in Peter,
That, whensoever he should please.
He could speak of rocks and trees 421
In poetic metre.
xi
For though it was without a sense
Of memory, yet he remembered well
Many a ditch and quick-set fence;
Of lakes he had intelligence, 426
He knew something of heath and fell.
For though it was without a sense
Of memory, yet he remembered well
Many a ditch and quick-set fence;
Of lakes he had intelligence, 426
He knew something of heath and fell.
xii
He had also dim recollections
Of pedlars tramping on their rounds;
Milk-pans and pails; and odd collections 430
Of saws, and proverbs; and reflections
Old parsons make in burying-grounds.
He had also dim recollections
Of pedlars tramping on their rounds;
Milk-pans and pails; and odd collections 430
Of saws, and proverbs; and reflections
Old parsons make in burying-grounds.
xiii
But Peter's verse was clear, and came
Announcing from the frozen hearth
Of a cold age, that none might tame 435
The soul of that diviner flame
It augured to the Earth:
But Peter's verse was clear, and came
Announcing from the frozen hearth
Of a cold age, that none might tame 435
The soul of that diviner flame
It augured to the Earth:
xiv
Like gentle rains, on the dry plains,
Making that green which late was gray,
Or like the sudden moon, that stains
Some gloomy chambers window-panes 441
With a broad light like day.
Like gentle rains, on the dry plains,
Making that green which late was gray,
Or like the sudden moon, that stains
Some gloomy chambers window-panes 441
With a broad light like day.
xv
For language was in Peter's hand
Like clay while he was yet a potter;
And he made songs for all the land, 445
Sweet both to feel and understand,
As pipkins late to mountain Cotter.
For language was in Peter's hand
Like clay while he was yet a potter;
And he made songs for all the land, 445
Sweet both to feel and understand,
As pipkins late to mountain Cotter.
xvi
And Mr. ———, the bookseller,
Gave twenty pounds for some;— then scorning
A footman's yellow coat to wear,
Peter, too proud of heart, I fear, 451
Instantly gave the Devil warning.
And Mr. ———, the bookseller,
Gave twenty pounds for some;— then scorning
A footman's yellow coat to wear,
Peter, too proud of heart, I fear, 451
Instantly gave the Devil warning.
