A rout this morning left Sir Walter’s Hall,
  That as they galloped made the echoes roar;
  But horse and man are vanished, one and all; 15
  Such race, I think, was never seen before.

  Sir Walter, restless as a veering wind,
  Calls to the few tired dogs that yet remain: 
  Blanch, [2] Swift, and Music, noblest of their kind,
  Follow, and up the weary mountain strain. 20

  The Knight hallooed, he cheered and chid them on [3]
  With suppliant gestures [4] 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? [5] 25
  The bugles that so joyfully were blown? 
—­This chase it looks not like an earthly chase; [6]
  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, 30
  Nor will I mention by what death he died;
  But now the Knight beholds him lying dead.

  Dismounting, then, he leaned against a thorn;
  He had no follower, dog, nor man, nor boy: 
  He neither cracked [7] his whip, nor blew his horn, 35
  But gazed upon the spoil with silent joy.

  Close to the thorn on which Sir Walter leaned,
  Stood his dumb partner in this glorious feat; [8]
  Weak as a lamb the hour that it is yeaned;
  And white with foam as if with cleaving sleet. [9] 40

  Upon his side the Hart was lying stretched: 
  His nostril touched [10] 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, 45
  (Never had living man such joyful lot!) [11]
  Sir Walter walked all round, north, south, and west,
  And gazed and gazed upon that darling spot. [12]

  And climbing [13] up the hill—­(it was at least
  Four [14] roods of sheer ascent) Sir Walter found 50
  Three several hoof-marks which the hunted Beast [15]
  Had left imprinted on the grassy [16] ground.

  Sir Walter wiped his face, and cried, “Till now
  Such sight was never seen by human [17] eyes: 
  Three leaps have borne him from this lofty brow, 55
  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. 60

  “A cunning artist will I have to frame
  A basin 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.