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Lyrical Ballads with Other Poems, 1800, Volume 2   By: (1770-1850)

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Quam hihil ad genium, Papiniane, tuum!



Hart leap Well There was a Boy, &c The Brothers, a Pastoral Poem Ellen Irwin, or the Braes of Kirtle Strange fits of passion I have known, &c. Song A slumber did my spirit seal, &c The Waterfall and the Eglantine The Oak and the Broom, a Pastoral Lucy Gray The Idle Shepherd Boys or Dungeon Gill Force, a Pastoral 'Tis said that some have died for love, &c. Poor Susan Inscription for the Spot where the Hermitage stood on St. Herbert's Island, Derwent Water Inscription for the House (an Out house) on the Island at Grasmere To a Sexton Andrew Jones The two Thieves, or the last stage of Avarice A whirl blast from behind the Hill, &c. Song for the wandering Jew Ruth Lines written with a Slate Pencil upon a Stone, &c. Lines written on a Tablet in a School The two April Mornings The Fountain, a conversation Nutting Three years she grew in sun and shower, &c. The Pet Lamb, a Pastoral Written in Germany on one of the coldest days of the century The Childless Father The Old Cumberland Beggar, a Description Rural Architecture A Poet's Epitaph A Character A Fragment Poems on the Naming of Places, Michael, a Pastoral Notes to the Poem of The Brothers Notes to the Poem of Michael


Hart Leap Well is a small spring of water, about five miles from Richmond in Yorkshire, and near the side of the road which 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 moor With the slow motion of a summer's cloud; He turn'd aside towards a Vassal's door, And, "Bring 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 sparkeled in the prancing Courser's eyes; The horse and horsemen 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 gallop'd made the echoes roar; But horse and man are vanish'd, 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: Brach, Swift and Music, noblest of their kind, Follow, and weary up the mountain strain.

The Knight halloo'd, he chid and cheer'd them on With suppliant gestures and upbraidings stern; But breath and eye sight fail, and, one by one, The dogs are stretch'd among the mountain fern.

Where is the throng, the tumult of the chace? The bugles that so joyfully were blown? This race it looks not like an earthly race; 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 lean'd against a thorn; He had no follower, dog, nor man, nor boy: He neither smack'd his whip, nor blew his horn, But gaz'd upon the spoil with silent joy.

Close to the thorn on which Sir Walter lean'd, Stood his dumb partner in this glorious act; Weak as a lamb the hour that it is yean'd, And foaming like a mountain cataract.

Upon his side the Hart was lying stretch'd: His nose half touch'd a spring beneath a hill, And with the last deep groan his breath had fetch'd The waters of the spring were trembling still.

And now, too happy for repose or rest, Was never man in such a joyful case, Sir Walter walk'd all round, north, south and west, And gaz'd, and gaz'd upon that darling place... Continue reading book >>

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