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.

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

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--

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.

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.

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

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.