PART THE FIFTH.

GRACE.

I.

AMONG the guests who often staid
Till the Devil's petits-soupers,
A man there came, fair as a maid,
And Peter noted what he said,
Standing behind his master's chair.

II.

He was a mighty poet-and
A subtle-souled psychologist;

All things he seemed to understand,
Of old or new-of sea or land-

But his own mind-which was a mist.

III.

This was a man who might have turned
Hell into Heaven-and so in gladness.
A Heaven unto himself have earned;
But he in shadows undiscerned

Trusted, and damned himself to madness.

IV.

He spoke of poetry, and how

"Divine it was-a light-a love— A spirit which like wind doth blow As it listeth, to and fro;

A dew rained down from God above.

V.

A power which comes and goes like dream,

And which none can ever trace

Heaven's light on earth-Truth's brightest beam."

And when he ceased there lay the gleam

Of those words upon his face.

VI

Now Peter, when he heard such talk,
Would, heedless of a broken pate,
Stand like a man asleep, or baulk
Some wishing guest of knife or fork,
Or drop and break his master's plate.

VII.

At night he oft would start and wake.
Like a lover, and began

In a wild measure songs to make
On moor, and glen, and rocky lake,

And on the heart of man-1

VIII.

And on the universal sky

And the wide earth's bosom green,

And the sweet, strange mystery

Of what beyond these things may lie,
And yet remain unseen.

IX.

For in his thought he visited

The spots in which, ere dead and damned,

He his wayward life had led;

Yet knew not whence the thoughts were fed,
Which thus his fancy crammed.

1 In Mrs. Shelley's editions there is a full-stop here.

X.

And these obscure remembrances
Stirred such harmony in Peter,
That whensoever he should please,
He could speak of rocks and trees
In poetic metre.

XI.

For though it was without a sense
Of memory, yet he remembered well
Many a ditch and quick-set fence;
Of lakes he had intelligence,

He knew something of heath, and fell.

XII.

He had also dim recollections

Of pedlars tramping on their rounds; Milk-pans and pails; and odd collections Of saws, and proverbs; and reflections Old parsons make in burying-grounds.

XIII.

But Peter's verse was clear, and came
Announcing from the frozen hearth
Of a cold age, that none might tame
The soul of that diviner flame

It augured to the Earth.

XIV.

Like gentle rains, on the dry plains,
Making that green which late was grey,
Or like the sudden moon, that stains
Some gloomy chamber's window panes
With a broad light like day.

For language was in Peter's hand,
Like clay, while he was yet a potter;
And he made songs for all the land,
Sweet both to feel and understand,
As pipkins late to1 mountain Cotter.

Gave twenty pounds for some;-then scorning A footman's yellow coat to wear,

Peter, too proud of heart, I fear,

Instantly gave the Devil warning.

XVII.

Whereat the Devil took offence,

And swore in his soul a great oath then,
"That for his damned impertinence,
He'd bring him to a proper sense
Of what was due to gentlemen!"—

PART THE SIXTH.

DAMNATION.

I.

"O THAT mine enemy had written

A book!"-cried Job:- -a fearful curse;

If to the Arab, as the Briton,

'Twas galling to be critic-bitten:

The Devil to Peter wished no worse.

II.

When Peter's next new book found vent,
The Devil to all the first Reviews

A copy of it slily sent,

With five-pound note as compliment,
And this short notice" Pray abuse."

III.

Then seriatim, month and quarter,
Appeared such mad tirades. One said
"Peter seduced Mrs. Foy's daughter,
Then drowned the mother in Ullswater,
The last thing as he went to bed."

IV.

Another-" Let him shave his head 1
Where's Dr. Willis?-Or is he joking?

Mr. Rossetti says there is "no rhyme" to head, and suggests top or crop as an emendation. I protest against such a change. It is rather an

VOL. III.

agreeable variation that head rhymes with bed in the last line of the preceding stanza. Similarly I should strongly object to the introduction of