Page:Peter Bell (Wordsworth).djvu/85

Part III. And stretch'd beneath the furze he sees

The Highland girl—it is no other;

And hears her crying, as she cried

The very moment that she died,

"My mother! oh my mother!"

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 peace, hath no offence betray'd;—

But now, while down that slope he wends,

A voice to Peter's ears ascends,

Resounding from the woody glade: