And now, all eyes and feet, hath gain'd
The middle of the arch.
When list! he hears a piteous moan--
Again! his heart within him dies--
His pulse is stopp'd, his breath is lost,
He totters, pale as any ghost,
And, looking down, he spies
A Lamb, that in the pool is pent
Within that black and frightful rent.


VII.

The Lamb had slipp'd into the stream,
And safe without a bruise or wound
The Cataract had borne him down
Into the gulph profound,
His dam had seen him when he fell,
She saw him down the torrent borne;
And while with all a mother's love
She from the lofty rocks above
Sent forth a cry forlorn,
The Lamb, still swimming round and round
Made answer to that plaintive sound.


VIII.

When he had learnt, what thing it was,
That sent this rueful cry; I ween,