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Part I.
PETER BELL.
35
With legs stretched out and stiff he lay:—
No word of kind commiseration
Fell at the sight from Peter's tongue;
With hard contempt his heart was wrung,
With hatred and vexation.
The meagre beast lay still as death—
And Peter's lips with fury quiver—
Quoth he, "You little mulish dog,
"I'll fling your carcase like a log
"Head foremost down the river!"
An impious oath confirmed the threat—
But, while upon the ground he lay,
To all the echoes, south and north,
And east and west, the Ass sent forth
A loud and piteous bray!
