PART VII—DOUBLE DAMNATION
357
xv
A printer's boy, folding those pages.
Fell slumbrously upon one side;
Like those famed Seven who slept three ages. 725
To wakeful frenzy's vigil-rages,
As opiates, were the same applied.
A printer's boy, folding those pages.
Fell slumbrously upon one side;
Like those famed Seven who slept three ages. 725
To wakeful frenzy's vigil-rages,
As opiates, were the same applied.
xvi
Even the Reviewers who were hired
To do the work of his reviewing.
With adamantine nerves, grew tired;— 730
Gaping and torpid they retired.
To dream of what they should be doing.
Even the Reviewers who were hired
To do the work of his reviewing.
With adamantine nerves, grew tired;— 730
Gaping and torpid they retired.
To dream of what they should be doing.
xvii
And worse and worse, the drowsy curse
Yawned in him, till it grew a pest—
A wide contagious atmosphere. 735
Creeping like cold through all things near;
A power to infect and to infest.
And worse and worse, the drowsy curse
Yawned in him, till it grew a pest—
A wide contagious atmosphere. 735
Creeping like cold through all things near;
A power to infect and to infest.
xviii
His servant-maids and dogs grew dull;
His kitten, late a sportive elf;
The woods and lakes, so beautiful.
Of dim stupidity were full. 741
All grew dull as Peter's self.
His servant-maids and dogs grew dull;
His kitten, late a sportive elf;
The woods and lakes, so beautiful.
Of dim stupidity were full. 741
All grew dull as Peter's self.
xix
The earth under his feet—the springs,
Which lived within it a quick life.
The air, the winds of many wings,
That fan it with new murmerings,
Were dead to their harmonious strife.747
The earth under his feet—the springs,
Which lived within it a quick life.
The air, the winds of many wings,
That fan it with new murmerings,
Were dead to their harmonious strife.747
xx
The birds and beasts within the wood,
The insects, and each creeping thing,
Were now a silent multitude; 750
Love's work was left unwrought—no brood
Near Peter's house took wing.
The birds and beasts within the wood,
The insects, and each creeping thing,
Were now a silent multitude; 750
Love's work was left unwrought—no brood
Near Peter's house took wing.
xxi
And every neighbouring cottager
Stupidly yawned upon the other:
No jackass brayed; no little cur 755
Cocked up his ears;— no man would stir
To save a dying mother.
And every neighbouring cottager
Stupidly yawned upon the other:
No jackass brayed; no little cur 755
Cocked up his ears;— no man would stir
To save a dying mother.
xxii
Yet all from that charmed district went
But some half-idiot and half-knave,
Who rather than pay any rent. 760
Would live with marvellous content,
Over his father's grave.
Yet all from that charmed district went
But some half-idiot and half-knave,
Who rather than pay any rent. 760
Would live with marvellous content,
Over his father's grave.
xxiii
No bailiff dared within that space.
For fear of the dull charm, to enter;
A man would bear upon his face, 765
For fifteen months in any case,
The yawn of such a venture.
No bailiff dared within that space.
For fear of the dull charm, to enter;
A man would bear upon his face, 765
For fifteen months in any case,
The yawn of such a venture.
xxiv
Seven miles above—below—around—
This pest of dulness holds its sway;
A ghastly life without a sound; 770
To Peter's soul the spell is bound-
How should it ever pass away?
Seven miles above—below—around—
This pest of dulness holds its sway;
A ghastly life without a sound; 770
To Peter's soul the spell is bound-
How should it ever pass away?
NOTE ON PETER BELL THE THIRD, BY MRS. SHELLEY
In this new edition I have added Peter Bell the Third. A critique on Wordsworth's Peter Bell reached us at Leghorn, which amused Shelley exceedingly, and suggested this poem.
I need scarcely observe that nothing personal to the author of Peter Bell is intended in this poem. No man ever admired Wordsworth's poetry more;—he read it perpetually, and taught others to appreciate its beauties. This poem is, like all others written by Shelley, ideal. He conceived the idealism of a poet—a man of lofty and creative
