Peter Bell the Third






PART 7. DOUBLE DAMNATION.

 1.
 The Devil now knew his proper cue.—
 Soon as he read the ode, he drove
 To his friend Lord MacMurderchouse's,                           655
 A man of interest in both houses,
 And said:—'For money or for love,

 2.
 'Pray find some cure or sinecure;
 To feed from the superfluous taxes
 A friend of ours—a poet—fewer                                 660
 Have fluttered tamer to the lure
 Than he.' His lordship stands and racks his

 3.
 Stupid brains, while one might count
 As many beads as he had boroughs,—
 At length replies; from his mean front,                         665
 Like one who rubs out an account,
 Smoothing away the unmeaning furrows:

 4.
 'It happens fortunately, dear Sir,
 I can. I hope I need require
 No pledge from you, that he will stir                           670
 In our affairs;—like Oliver.
 That he'll be worthy of his hire.'

 5.
 These words exchanged, the news sent off
 To Peter, home the Devil hied,—
 Took to his bed; he had no cough,                               675
 No doctor,—meat and drink enough.—
 Yet that same night he died.

 6.
 The Devil's corpse was leaded down;
 His decent heirs enjoyed his pelf,
 Mourning-coaches, many a one,                                   680
 Followed his hearse along the town:—
 Where was the Devil himself?

 7.
 When Peter heard of his promotion,
 His eyes grew like two stars for bliss:
 There was a bow of sleek devotion                               685
 Engendering in his back; each motion
 Seemed a Lord's shoe to kiss.

 8.
 He hired a house, bought plate, and made
 A genteel drive up to his door,
 With sifted gravel neatly laid,—                               690
 As if defying all who said,
 Peter was ever poor.

 9.
 But a disease soon struck into
 The very life and soul of Peter—
 He walked about—slept—had the hue                             695
 Of health upon his cheeks—and few
 Dug better—none a heartier eater.

 10.
 And yet a strange and horrid curse
 Clung upon Peter, night and day;
 Month after month the thing grew worse,                         700
 And deadlier than in this my verse
 I can find strength to say.

 11.
 Peter was dull—he was at first
 Dull—oh, so dull—so very dull!
 Whether he talked, wrote, or rehearsed—                        705
 Still with this dulness was he cursed—
 Dull—beyond all conception—dull.

 12.
 No one could read his books—no mortal,
 But a few natural friends, would hear him;
 The parson came not near his portal;                            710
 His state was like that of the immortal
 Described by Swift—no man could bear him.

 13.
 His sister, wife, and children yawned,
 With a long, slow, and drear ennui,
 All human patience far beyond;                                  715
 Their hopes of Heaven each would have pawned,
 Anywhere else to be.

 14.
 But in his verse, and in his prose,
 The essence of his dulness was
 Concentred and compressed so close,                             720
 'Twould have made Guatimozin doze
 On his red gridiron of brass.

 15.
 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.

 16.
 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.

 17.
 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.

 18.
 His servant-maids and dogs grew dull;
 His kitten, late a sportive elf;
 The woods and lakes, so beautiful,                              740
 Of dim stupidity were full.
 All grew dull as Peter's self.

 19.
 The earth under his feet—the springs,
 Which lived within it a quick life,
 The air, the winds of many wings,                               745
 That fan it with new murmurings,
 Were dead to their harmonious strife.

 20.
 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.

 21.
 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.

 22.
 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.

 23.
 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.

 24.
 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?

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