Written at Alfoxden. Founded upon an anecdote, which I read in a 
      newspaper, of an ass being found hanging his head over a canal in 
      a wretched posture. Upon examination a dead body was found in the 
      water and proved to be the body of its master. The countenance, 
      gait, and figure of Peter, were taken from a wild rover with whom 
      I walked from Builth, on the river Wye, downwards nearly as far as 
      the town of Hay. He told me strange stories. It has always been a 
      pleasure to me through life to catch at every opportunity that has 
      occurred in my rambles of becoming acquainted with this class of 
      people. The number of Peter's wives was taken from the trespasses 
      in this way of a lawless creature who lived in the county of 
      Durham, and used to be attended by many women, sometimes not less 
      than half a dozen, as disorderly as himself. Benoni, or the child 
      of sorrow, I knew when I was a school-boy. His mother had been 
      deserted by a gentleman in the neighbourhood, she herself being a 
      gentlewoman by birth. The circumstances of her story were told me 
      by my dear old Dame, Anne Tyson, who was her confidante. The Lady 
      died broken-hearted.--In the woods of Alfoxden I used to take 
      great delight in noticing the habits, tricks, and physiognomy of 
      asses; and I have no doubt that I was thus put upon writing the 
      poem out of liking for the creature that is so often dreadfully 
      abused.--The crescent-moon, which makes such a figure in the 
      prologue, assumed this character one evening while I was watching 
      its beauty in front of Alfoxden House. I intended this poem for 
      the volume before spoken of, but it was not published for more 
      than twenty years afterwards.--The worship of the Methodists or 
      Ranters is often heard during the stillness of the summer evening 
      in the country with affecting accompaniments of rural beauty. In 
      both the psalmody and the voice of the preacher there is, not 
      unfrequently, much solemnity likely to impress the feelings of the 
      rudest characters under favourable circumstances.
<BR><BR>
<h4>TO</h4>
<h4>ROBERT SOUTHEY, ESQ., P.L., ETC. ETC.</h4>
<BR><BR>
<h4>MY DEAR FRIEND,</h4>
            The Tale of Peter Bell, which I now introduce to your 
      notice, and to that of the Public, has, in its Manuscript state, 
      nearly survived its 'minority':--for it first saw the light in the 
      summer of 1798. During this long interval, pains have been taken 
      at different times to make the production less unworthy of a 
      favourable reception; or, rather, to fit it for filling 
      'permanently' a station, however humble, in the Literature of our 
      Country. This has, indeed, been the aim of all my endeavours in 
      Poetry, which, you know, have been sufficiently laborious to prove 
      that I deem the Art not lightly to be approached; and that the 
      attainment of excellence in it may laudably be made the principal 
      object of intellectual pursuit by any man, who, with reasonable 
      consideration of circumstances, has faith in his own impulses.
<BR><BR>
        The Poem of Peter Bell, as the Prologue will show, was composed 
      under a belief that the Imagination not only does not require for 
      its exercise the intervention of supernatural agency, but that, 
      though such agency be excluded, the faculty may be called forth as 
      imperiously and for kindred results of pleasure, by incidents, 
      within the compass of poetic probability, in the humblest 
      departments of daily life. Since that Prologue was written, 'you' 
      have exhibited most splendid effects of judicious daring, in the 
      opposite and usual course. Let this acknowledgment make my peace 
      with the lovers of the supernatural; and I am persuaded it will be 
      admitted, that to you, as a Master in that province of the Art, 
      the following Tale, whether from contrast or congruity, is not an 
      unappropriate offering. Accept it, then, as a public testimony of 
      affectionate admiration from one with whose name yours has been 
      often coupled (to use your own words) for evil and for good; and 
      believe me to be, with earnest wishes that life and health may be 
      granted you to complete the many important works in which you are 
      engaged, and with high respect,
<BR><BR>
<dd>Most faithfully yours,
<dd>WILLIAM WORDSWORTH.

<dt>Rydal Mount, April 7, 1819.