Beneath the clear blue sky he saw
A little field of meadow ground;
But field or meadow name it not;
Call it of earth a small green plot,
With rocks encompassed round.

The Swale flowed under the grey rocks,
But he flowed quiet and unseen;
You need a strong and stormy gale
To bring the noises of the Swale

To that green spot, so calm and green!

And is there no one dwelling here,
No hermit with his beads and glass?
And does no little cottage look

Upon this soft and fertile nook?

Does no one live near this green grass?

Across that deep and quiet spot

Is Peter driving through the grass-
And now he is among the trees ;

When, turning round his head, he sees
A solitary Ass.

་

"No doubt I'm foundered in these woods

For once," quoth he, “I will be wise,

With better speed I'll back again

And, lest the journey should prove vain,
Will take yon Ass, my lawful prize!"

But first doth Peter deem it fit

To

spy about him far and near; There's not a single house in sight, No woodman's hut, no cottage light Peter you need not fear!

There's nothing to be seen but woods,
And rocks that spread a hoary gleam,
And this one beast that from the bed
Of the green meadow hangs his head
Over the silent stream.

His head is with a halter bound;
The halter seizing, Peter leapt
Upon the Ass's back, and plied,
With ready heel, the creature's side;

But still the Ass his station kept.

"What's this!" cried Peter, brandishing

A new-peeled sapling; - though, I deem, The Ass knew well what Peter said,

He, as before, hung down his head

Over the silent stream.

Then Peter gave a sudden jirk,
A jirk that from a dungeon floor
Would have pulled up an iron ring;
But still the heavy-headed thing
Stood just as he had stood before !

Quoth Peter, leaping from his seat,
"There is some plot against me laid;"
Once more the little meadow ground
And all the hoary cliffs around
He cautiously surveyed.

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.

"I'll cure you of these desperate tricks".

And, with deliberate action slow,

His staff high-raising, in the pride

Of skill, upon the Ass's hide

He dealt a sturdy blow.

What followed?-yielding to the shock

The Ass, as if to take his ease,

In quiet uncomplaining mood,

Upon the

spot where he had stood,

Dropt gently down upon his knees.

And then upon his side he fell

And by the river's brink did lie;

And, as he lay like one that mourned,

The patient beast on Peter turned

'Twas but one mild, reproachful look,
A look more tender than severe;
And straight in sorrow, not in dread,
He turned the eye-ball in his head
Towards the river deep and clear.

Upon the beast the sapling rings,—
Heaved his lank sides, his limbs they stirred;
He gave a groan and then another,

Of that which went before the brother,
And then he gave a third.

And Peter halts to gather breath,
And now full clearly was it shown

(What he before in part had seen)

How gaunt was the poor Ass and lean,

Yea wasted to a skeleton!

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.