A gentle answer did the old Man make, And him with further words I thus bespake, His words came feebly, from a feeble chest, Of ordinary men; a stately speech; Such as grave Livers do in Scotland use, Religious men, who give to God and man their dues. He told, that to these waters he had come moor; Housing, with God's good help, by choice of chance; And in this way he gained an honest main tenance. The old Man still stood talking by my side; And the whole body of the Man did seem To give me human strength, by apt admonish ment. My former thoughts returned: the fear that kills; And hope that is unwilling to be fed; Cold, pain, and labour, and all fleshly ills; "How is it that you live, and what is it you do?" He with a smile did then his words repeat; While he was talking thus, the lonely place, The old Man's shape, and speech, all troubled me: In my mind's eye I seemed to see him pace While I these thoughts within myself pursued, He, having made a pause, the same discourse renewed. And soon with this he other matter blended, Cheerfully uttered, with demeanour kind, But stately in the main; and when he ended, I could have laughed myself to scorn to find In that decrepit Man so firm a mind. "God," said I, "be my help and stay secure ; I'll think of the leech-gatherer on the lonely moor!"' 1807. HART-LEAP WELL 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. THE Knight had ridden down from Wensley With the slow motion of a summer's cloud; 66 Bring forth another horse!" he cried aloud "Another horse!"-That shout the vassal heard Joy sparkled in the prancing courser's eyes; A rout this morning left Sir Walter's Hall, That as they gal.oped 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, The Knight hallooed, he cheered and chid them on 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; Sir Walter and the Hart are left alone. The poor Hart toils along the mountain side; |