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The sweat pours down from Peter's face,

So grievous is his heart's contrition;

With agony his eye-balls ache

While he beholds by the furze-brake

This miserable vision!

Calm is the well-deserving brute,

His

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peace, hath no offence betrayed ; · But now, while down that slope he wends, A voice to Peter's ear ascends,

Resounding from the woody glade :

Though clamorous as a hunter's horn
Re-echoed from a naked rock,

"Tis from that tabernacle List!

Within, a fervent Methodist

Is preaching to no heedless flock!

"Repent! repent!" he cries aloud,

- strive

"While yet ye may find mercy ;"To love the Lord with all your might; "Turn to him, seek him day and night, "And save your souls alive!

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Repent! repent! though ye have gone Through paths of wickedness and woe "After the Babylonian harlot,

"And though your sins be red as scarlet They shall be white as snow!"

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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, that through prevailing grace
He, not unmoved, did notice now
The cross * upon thy shoulders scored,
Meek beast! in memory of the Lord
To whom all human-kind shall bow;

In memory of that solemn day
When Jesus humbly deigned to ride,
Entering the proud Jerusalem,
By an immeasurable stream

Of shouting people deified!

Meanwhile the persevering Ass,

Towards a gate in open

view,

Turns up a narrow 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.

* The notion is very general, that the Cross on the back and

shoulders of this Animal has the origin here alluded to.

Along the lane the trusty Ass

Had gone two hundred yards, not more;
When to a lonely house he came ;

He turned aside towards the same
And stopped before the door.

Thought Peter, 'tis 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 hope some tidings there to gather;
No glimpse it is no doubtful gleam
She saw - and uttered with a scream,

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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 instantly, upon the earth

Beneath the full moon shining bright,

Close at the Ass's feet she fell ;

At the same moment Peter Bell
Dismounts in most unhappy plight.

What could he do? The Woman lay
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.

"Oh! 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.

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