XVII. 66 "'T was mist and rain, and storm and rain: No screen, no fence, could I discover; A wind full ten times over. I looked around, I thought I saw A jutting crag, and off I ran, Head-foremost, through the driving rain, The shelter of the crag to gain ; And, as I am a man, Instead of jutting crag, I found A Woman seated on the ground. XVIII. "I did not speak, — I saw her face; Her face! - it was enough for me; I turned about and heard her cry, 'O misery! O misery!' And there she sits, until the moon Through half the clear blue sky will go; The waters of the pond to shake, As all the country know, She shudders, and you hear her cry, 'O misery! O misery!'" XIX. "But what's the Thorn? and what the pond? And what the hill of moss to her? And what the creeping breeze that comes The little pond to stir?" 66 "I cannot tell; but some will say She hanged her baby on the tree; The little Babe was buried there, XX. "I've heard, the moss is spotted red Some say, if to the pond you go, And that it looks at you; XXI. "And some had sworn an oath, that she Should be to public justice brought; And for the little infant's bones With spades they would have sought. The little Babe lies buried there, Beneath that hill of moss so fair. "I cannot tell how this may be, And this I know, full many a time, When all the stars shone clear and bright, 'O misery! O misery! O woe is me! O misery!"" XXIV. 1798. 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 Moor, "Another horse!" -That shout the vassal heard, And saddled his best steed, a comely gray; Joy sparkled in the prancing courser's eyes; A rout this morning left Sir Walter's Hall, 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? 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; Dismounting, then, he leaned against a thorn; 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. Upon his side the Hart was lying stretched: And now, too happy for repose or rest, (Never had living man such joyful lot!) Sir Walter walked all round, north, south, and west, And gazed and gazed upon that darling spot. And climbing up the hill, (it was at least |