It is my pleasant heritage;

1815.

My father many a happy year

Spread here his careless blossoms, here

Attained a good old age.

On me such bounty Summer pours,
That I am covered o'er with flowers;1
And, when the Frost is in the sky,
My branches are so fresh and gay
That you might look at me and say,
This Plant can never die.

IX.

The butterfly, all green and gold,

To me hath often flown,

Here in my blossoms to behold
Wings lovely as his own.

When grass is chill with rain or dew,
Beneath my shade, the mother-ewe
Lies with her infant lamb; I see
The love they to each other make,
And the sweet joy which they partake,
It is a joy to me.'

X.

Her voice was blithe, her heart was light;
The Broom might have pursued

The Spring for me a garland weaves
Of yellow flowers and verdant leaves.

1800.

Her speech, until the stars of night
Their journey had renewed;

But in the branches of the oak
Two ravens now began to croak
Their nuptial song, a gladsome air;
And to her own green bower the breeze
That instant brought two stripling bees
To rest, or murmur there.

XI.

One night, my Children! from the north
There came a furious blast;1

At break of day I ventured forth,
And near the cliff I passed.

The storm had fallen upon the Oak,

And struck him with a mighty stroke,

And whirled, and whirled him far away;
And, in one hospitable cleft,

The little careless Broom was left

To live for many a day."

The spot is fixed within narrow limits by the Fenwick note. It is, beyond doubt, on the wooded part of Nab-Scar, through which the upper path from Grasmere to Rydal passes. There is one hugh block of stone high above the path, which answers well to the description in the second stanza.-ED.

[Written at Town-end, Grasmere. The first eight stanzas were composed extempore one winter evening in the cottage, when, after having tired myself with labouring at an awkward passage in "The Brothers," I started with a sudden impulse to this to get rid of the other, and finished it in a day or two. My sister and I had passed the

1 1815.

One night the wind came from the north
And blew a furious blast.

1800.

place a few weeks before in our wild winter journey from Sockburn on the banks of the Tees to Grasmere. A peasant whom we met near the spot told us the story so far as concerned the name of the Well, and the Hart, and pointed out the Stones. Both the stones and the well are objects that may easily be missed. The tradition by this time may be extinct in the neighbourhood. The man who related it to us was very old.]

Hart-Leap Well is a small spring of water, about five miles from Richmond in Yorkshire, and near the side of the road that leads from Richmond to Askrigg. Its name is derived from a remarkable Chase, the memory of which is preserved by the monuments spoken of in the second part of the following poem, which monuments do now exist as I have there described them.

1

THE Knight had ridden down from Wensley Moor
With the slow motion of a summer's cloud,
And now, as he approached a vassal's door,1
"Bring forth another horse!" he cried aloud.

"Another horse!"-That shout the vassal heard
And saddled his best Steed, a comely grey;
Sir Walter mounted him: he was the third
Which he had mounted on that glorious day.

Joy sparkled in the prancing courser's eyes;
The horse and horseman are a happy pair;
But, though Sir Walter like a falcon flies,
There is a doleful silence in the air.

A rout this morning left Sir Walter's Hall,
That as they galloped made the echoes roar;
But horse and man are vanished, one and all;
Such race, I think, was never seen before.

Sir Walter, restless as a veering wind,

Calls to the few tired dogs that yet remain :
Blanch, Swift, and Music, noblest of their kind,
Follow, and up the weary mountain strain.

1836.

He turned aside towards a vassal's door,
And, "Bring another Horse," he cried aloud.

1800.

The Knight hallooed, he cheered and chid them on1
With suppliant gestures and upbraidings stern;
But breath and eyesight fail; and, one by one,
The dogs are stretched among the mountain fern.

Where is the throng, the tumult of the race?
The bugles that so joyfully were blown?
-This chase it looks not like an earthly chase;2
Sir Walter and the Hart are left alone.

The poor Hart toils along the mountain-side;
I will not stop to tell how far he fled,
Nor will I mention by what death he died;
But now the Knight beholds him lying dead.

Dismounting, then, he leaned against a thorn;
He had no follower, dog, nor man, nor boy:
He neither cracked his whip, nor blew his horn,
But gazed upon the spoil with silent joy.

3

Close to the thorn on which Sir Walter leaned,
Stood his dumb partner in this glorious feat ;*
Weak as a lamb the hour that it is yeaned;
And white with foam as if with cleaving sleet.5

Upon his side the Hart was lying stretched:
His nostril touched a spring beneath a hill,

And with the last deep groan his breath had fetched
The waters of the spring were trembling still.

And now, too happy for repose or rest,
(Never had living man such joyful lot!)1

Sir Walter walked all round, north, south, and west,
And gazed and gazed upon that darling spot.2

And climbing up the hill (it was at least

4

Four roods of sheer ascent) Sir Walter found

Three several hoof-marks which the hunted Beast 5 Had left imprinted on the grassy ground.

Sir Walter wiped his face, and cried, "Till now
Such sight was never seen by human eyes:7
Three leaps have borne him from this lofty brow,
Down to the very fountain where he lies.

I'll build a pleasure-house upon this spot,
And a small arbour, made for rural joy;
"Twill be the traveller's shed, the pilgrim's cot,
A place of love for damsels that are coy.

A cunning artist will I have to frame

A basin for that fountain in the dell!

And they who do make mention of the same,

From this day forth, shall call it HART-LEAP WELL.

Three several marks which with his hoofs the Beast 1800.