Dismounting then, he leaned against a thorn; He had no follower, dog, nor man, nor boy: He neither smacked his whip, nor blew his horn, But gazed upon the spoil with silent joy. Close to the thorn on which Sir Walter leaned, Stood his dumb partner in this glorious act; Weak as a lamb the hour that it is yeaned; And foaming like a mountain cataract. Upon his side the hart was lying stretched: His nose half-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, (Was never man in such a joyful case!) Sir Walter walked all round, north, south, and west, And gazed, and gazed upon that darling place. And climbing up the hill--(it was at least Nine roods of sheer ascent) Sir Walter found, Three several hoof-marks which the hunted beast Had left imprinted on the verdant ground. Sir Walter wiped his face and cried, "Till now Such sight was never seen by living eyes: 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 bason 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. And, gallant brute! to make thy praises known, Another monument shall here be raised; Three several pillars, each a rough-hewn stone, And planted where thy hoofs the turf have grazed. And, in the summer-time when days are long, I will come hither with my paramour; And with the dancers, and the minstrel's song, We will make merry in that pleasant bower. Till the foundations of the mountains fail, My mansion with its arbour shall endure;-- The joy of them who till the fields of Swale, And them who dwell among the woods of Ure!" Then home he went, and left the hart, stone-dead, With breathless nostrils stretched above the spring. --Soon did the knight perform what he had said, And far and wide the fame thereof did ring. 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 intertwined,-- Which soon composed a little sylvan hall, A leafy shelter from the sun and wind.