Page:Peter Bell (Wordsworth).djvu/40

24 There was a hardness in his cheek,

There was a hardness in his eye,

As if the man had fix'd his face,

In many a solitary place,

Against the wind and open sky!

, (and now, my little Bess!

We've reached at last the promis'd Tale;)

One beautiful November night,

When the full moon was shining bright

Upon the rapid river Swale,

Along the river's winding banks

Peter was travelling all alone;—

Whether to buy or sell, or led

By pleasure running in his head,

To me was never known.