All, all is silent, rocks and woods.

-

All still and silent, far and near!

Only the Ass, with motion dull,
Upon the pivot of his skull

Turns round his long left ear.

Thought Peter, What can mean all this? Some ugly witchcraft must be here!

Once more the Ass, with motion dull, Upon the pivot of his skull

Turned round his long left ear.

Suspicion ripened into dread;
Yet, with deliberate action slow,
His staff high raising, in the pride
Of skill, upon the sounding hide
He dealt a sturdy blow.

The poor Ass staggered with the shock; And then, as if to take his ease,

In quiet, uncomplaining mood,

Upon the spot where he had stood,
Dropped gently down upon his knees.

As gently on his side he fell,

And by the river's brink did lie;

And, while he lay like one that mourned,

The patient Beast on Peter turned

His shining hazel eye.

"T was but one mild, reproachful look,
A look more tender than severe;

And straight in sorrow, not in dread,
He turned the eyeball in his head
Towards the smooth river deep and clear.

Upon the Beast the sapling rings;

His lank sides heaved, his limbs they stirred; He gave a groan, and then another,

Of that which went before the brother,

And then he gave a third.

All by the moonlight river-side gave three miserable groans;

He

And not till now hath Peter seen
How gaunt the Creature is, - how lean

And sharp his staring bones!

With legs stretched out and stiff he lay: — No word of kind commiseration

Fell at the sight from Peter's tongue; With hard contempt his heart was wrung, With hatred and vexation.

The meagre Beast lay still as death;
And Peter's lips with fury quiver;
Quoth he, "You little mulish dog,
I'll fling your carcass like a log
Head-foremost down the river!"

An impious oath confirmed the threat,
Whereat from the earth on which he lay
To all the echoes, south and north,
And east and west, the Ass sent forth
A long and clamorous bray!

This outcry, on the heart of Peter,
Seems like a note of joy to strike,
Joy at 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,
Twined round him by demoniac power,
To the blind work he turned again.

Among the rocks and winding crags;
Among the mountains far away;
Once more the Ass did lengthen out
More ruefully a deep-drawn shout,
The hard dry seesaw of his horrible bray :

What is there now in Peter's heart?

Or whence the might of this strange sound?
The moon uneasy looked and dimmer,
The broad blue heavens appeared to glimmer,
And the rocks staggered all around.

From Peter's hand the sapling dropped! Threat has he none to execute;

"If any one should come and see

That I am here, they 'll think," quoth he, "I'm helping this poor dying brute.”

He scans the Ass from limb to limb,
And ventures now to uplift his eyes:
More steady looks the moon, and clear,
More like themselves the rocks appear,
And touch more quiet skies.

His scorn returns, his hate revives;
He stoops the Ass's neck to seize

With malice

that again takes flight;

For in the pool a startling sight

Meets him, among the inverted trees.

Is it the moon's distorted face?
The ghost-like image of a cloud?
Is it a gallows there portrayed?
Is Peter of himself afraid?

A grisly idol hewn in stone?
Or imp from witch's lap let fall?
Perhaps a ring of shining fairies?
Such as pursue their feared vagaries
In sylvan bower, or haunted hall ?

Is it a fiend that to a stake

Of fire his desperate self is tethering?
Or stubborn spirit doomed to yell
In solitary ward or cell,

Ten thousand miles from all his brethren ?

Never did pulse so quickly throb,
And never heart so loudly panted;
He looks, he cannot choose but look;
Like some one reading in a book,
A book that is enchanted.

Ah, well-a-day for Peter Bell!
He will be turned to iron soon,
Meet Statue for the court of Fear!

His hat is up, - and every hair
Bristles, and whitens in the moon!

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, as if his life were flown!

PART SECOND.

WE left our Hero in a trance,

Beneath the alders, near the river;