-Soon did the Knight perform what he had

said,

And far and wide the fame thereof did ring. 80

Ere thrice the Moon into her port had steered,
A cup of stone received the living well;
Three pillars of rude stone Sir Walter reared,
And built a house of pleasure in the dell.

And near the fountain, flowers of stature tall With trailing plants and trees were inter

twined,

Which soon composed a little sylvan hall,
A leafy shelter from the sun and wind.

84

88

And thither, when the summer days were long,
Sir Walter led his wondering paramour;
And with the dancers and the minstrel's song
Made merriment within that pleasant bower. 92

The Knight, Sir Walter, died in course of time,
And his bones lie in his paternal vale.--
But there is matter for a second rhyme,
And I to this would add another tale.

96

PART SECOND

The moving accident is not my trade;
To freeze the blood I have no ready arts:
'T is my delight, alone in summer shade,
To pipe a simple song for thinking hearts.

100

As I from Hawes to Richmond did repair,
It chanced that I saw standing in a dell
Three aspens at three corners of a square;
And one, not four yards distant, near a well. 104

What this imported I could ill divine:
And, pulling now the rein my horse to stop,

I saw three pillars standing in a line,—

The last stone-pillar on a dark hill-top.

The trees were gray, with neither arms nor

head;

108

Half wasted the square mound of tawny green; So that you just might say, as then I said, "Here in old time the hand of man hath

been."

112

I looked upon the hill both far and near,—
More doleful place did never eye survey;
It seemed as if the spring-time came not here,
And nature here was willing to decay.

116

I stood in various thoughts and fancies lost, When one, who was in shepherd's garb attired, Came up the hollow:-him did I accost,

And what this place might be I then in

quired.

120

The Shepherd stopped, and that same story told Which in my former rhyme I have rehearsed.

"A jolly place," said he, "in times of old! But something ails it now: the spot is curst. 124

"You see these lifeless stumps of aspen woodSome say that they are beeches, others elmsThese were the bower; and here a mansion

stood,

The finest palace of a hundred realms!

"The arbour does its own condition tell;

128

You see the stones, the fountain, and the stream; But as to the great lodge! you might as well Hunt half a day for a forgotten dream.

132

"There's neither dog nor heifer, horse nor sheep,
Will wet his lips within that cup of stone;
And oftentimes, when all are fast asleep,
This water doth send forth a dolorous groan. 136

"Some say that here a murder has been done, And blood cries out for blood: but, for my part, I've guessed, when I've been sitting in the sun, That it was all for that unhappy Hart.

"What thoughts must through the creature's brain have past!

Even from the topmost stone, upon the steep, Are but three bounds-and look, sir, at this

last

O master! it has been a cruel leap.

"For thirteen hours he ran a desperate race; And in my simple mind we cannot tell

140

144

What cause the Hart might have to love this

place,

And come and make his deathbed near the

well.

"Here on the grass perhaps asleep he sank,
Lulled by the fountain in the summer-tide;
This water was perhaps the first he drank
When he had wandered from his mother's

side.

148

152

"In April here beneath the flowering thorn
He heard the birds their morning carols sing;
And he, perhaps, for aught we know, was born
Not half a furlong from that self-same

spring.

156

66

Now, here is neither grass nor pleasant shade; The sun on drearier hollow never shone;

So will it be, as I have often said,

Till trees, and stones, and fountain, all are

gone."

160

"Gray-headed Shepherd, thou hast spoken well; Small difference lies between thy creed and

mine:

This Beast not unobserved by Nature fell;

His death was mourned by sympathy divine. 164

"The Being, that is in the clouds and air,

That is in the green leaves among the groves,

Maintains a deep and reverential care
For the unoffending creatures whom he

loves.

168

"The pleasure-house is dust:-behind, before, This is no common waste, no common gloom; But Nature, in due course of time, once more Shall here put on her beauty and her bloom. 172

"She leaves these objects to a slow decay, That what we are, and have been, may be

known;

But at the coming of the milder day,
These monuments shall all be overgrown.

"One lesson, Shepherd, let us two divide,
Taught both by what she shows, and what
conceals;

Never to blend our pleasure or our pride
With sorrow of the meanest thing that

feels."

1800.

176

180

William Wordsworth.