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--485 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." 490 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. [51] 495 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. [52] 500 Is it the moon's distorted face? The ghost-like image of a cloud? Is it a gallows [53] there portrayed? Is Peter of himself afraid? Is it a coffin,--or a shroud? 505 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 [54] In sylvan bower, or haunted hall? 510 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? 515 [55] Never did pulse so quickly throb, And never heart so loudly panted; [56] He looks, he cannot choose but look; Like some one reading in a book--[57] A book that is enchanted. 520 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! 525 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, [58] as if his life were flown! 530 PART SECOND We left our Hero in a trance, Beneath the alders, near the river; The Ass is by the river-side, And, where the feeble breezes glide, Upon the stream the moonbeams quiver. 535 A happy respite! but at length He feels the glimmering of the moon; Wakes with glazed eye, and feebly sighing-- To sink, perhaps, where he is lying, Into a second swoon! [59] 540 He lifts his head, he sees his staff; He touches--'tis to him a treasure! Faint recollection seems to tell That he is yet where mortals dwell-- A thought received with languid pleasure! 545