Even as he passed the door, these words
Did plainly come to Peter's ears;
And they such joyful tidings were,
The joy was more than he could bear! -
He melted into tears.
Sweet tears of hope and tenderness!
And fast they fell, a plenteous shower!
His nerves, his sinews, seemed to melt;
Through all his iron frame was felt
A gentle, a relaxing power!
Each fibre of his frame was weak;
Weak all the animal within ;
But, in its helplessness, grew mild
And gentle as an infant child,
An infant that has known no sin.
'Tis said, meek Beast! that, thro' Heaven's grace,
He not unmoved did notice now
The cross upon thy shoulder scored,
For lasting impress, by the Lord
To whom all human-kind shall bow;
Memorial of his touch, that day
When Jesus humbly deigned to ride,
Entering the proud Jerusalem,
By an immeasurable stream
Of shouting people deified!
Meanwhile the persevering Ass
Turned towards a gate that hung in view
Across a shady lane; his chest
Against the yielding gate he pressed,
And quietly passed through.
And up the stony lane he goes;
No ghost more softly ever trod;
Among the stones and pebbles, he
Sets down his hoofs inaudibly,
As if with felt his hoofs were shod.
Along the lane the trusty Ass
Went twice two hundred yards or more, And no one could have guessed his aim, Till to a lonely house he came,
And stopped beside the door.
Thought Peter, 't is the poor Man's home! He listens, not a sound is heard,
Save from the trickling household rill;
But, stepping o'er the cottage-sill,
Forthwith a little Girl appeared.
She to the Meeting-house was bound,
In hopes some tidings there to gather:
No glimpse it is, no doubtful gleam;
and uttered with a scream,
She saw,
"My father! here's my father!"
The very word was plainly heard,
Heard plainly by the wretched Mother; -
Her joy was like a deep affright:
And forth she rushed into the light,
And saw it was another!
And, instantly, upon the earth,
Beneath the full moon shining bright,
Close to the Ass's feet she fell;
At the same moment Peter Bell
Dismounts in most unhappy plight.
As he beheld the Woman lie
Breathless and motionless, the mind
Of Peter sadly was confused;
But, though to such demands unused,
And helpless almost as the blind,
He raised her up; and, while he held
Her body propped against his knee,
The Woman waked, - and when she spied
The poor Ass standing by her side,
She moaned most bitterly.
"O God be praised!—my heart 's at ease, — For he is dead, I know it well!"
At this she wept a bitter flood; And, in the best way that he could, His tale did Peter tell.
he is pale as death; His voice is weak with perturbation; He turns aside his head, he pauses : Poor Peter from a thousand causes Is crippled sore in his narration.
At length she learned how he espied
The Ass in that small meadow-ground;
And that her Husband now lay dead,
Beside that luckless river's bed
In which he had been drowned.
A piercing look the Widow cast
Upon the Beast that near her stands;
She sees 't is he, that 't is the same;
She calls the poor Ass by his name,
And wrings, and wrings her hands.
"O wretched loss! - untimely stroke!
If he had died upon his bed!
He knew not one forewarning pain;
He never will come home again, —
Is dead, for ever dead!
Beside the Woman Peter stands
His heart is opening more and more;
A holy sense pervades his mind;
He feels what he for human-kind
Had never felt before.
At length, by Peter's arm sustained,
The Woman rises from the ground:
"O mercy! something must be done!
My little Rachel, you must run, -
Some willing neighbor must be found.
"Make haste, my little Rachel, do,
The first you meet with, bid him come;
Ask him to lend his horse to night,
And this good Man, whom Heaven requite,
Will help to bring the body home."
Away goes Rachel weeping loud;-
An Infant, waked by her distress,
Makes in the house a piteous cry;
And Peter hears the Mother sigh,
"Seven are they, and all fatherless!"
And now is Peter taught to feel
That man's heart is a holy thing;
And Nature, through a world of death,
Breathes into him a second breath,
More searching than the breath of Spring.
From his own thoughts did Peter start;
He longs to press her to his heart,
From love that cannot find relief.
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