Page:Peter Bell (Wordsworth).djvu/82

66 Now, turn'd adrift into the past,

He finds no solace in his course;—

Like planet-stricken men of yore

He trembles, smitten to the core

By strong compunction and remorse.

But more than all, his heart is stung

To think of one, almost a child;

A sweet and playful Highland girl,

As light and beauteous as a squirrel,

As beauteous and as wild!

A lonely house her dwelling was,

A cottage in a heathy dell;

And she put on her gown of green,

And left her mother at sixteen,

And followed Peter Bell.