Page:Lyrical ballads, Volume 2, Wordsworth, 1800.djvu/81

73 VI.

With staff in hand across the cleft

The Challenger began his march;

And now, all eyes and feet, hath gain'd

The middle of the arch.

When list! he hears a piteous moan—

Again! his heart within him dies—

His pulse is stopp'd, his breath is lost,

He totters, pale as any ghost,

And, looking down, he spies

A Lamb, that in the pool is pent

Within that black and frightful rent.

VII.

The Lamb had slipp'd into the stream,

And safe without a bruise or wound

The Cataract had borne him down

Into the gulph profound.

His dam had seen him when he fell,