"The tree is not a Thorn, but a Lime. It is evidently an old one, but is now in full and beautiful leaf. It stands on the western side of the road, and a few yards distant from it. The well is somewhat nearer the road. This side of the road is open to the fell. On the other side the road is bounded by a stone wall: another wall meeting this one at right angles, exactly opposite the well. I ascended the hill on the north side of this wall for some distance, but could find no trace of any rough-hewn stone. Descending on the other side, I found in the wall one, and only one, such stone. I should say the base was in the wall. The stone itself leans outwards; so that, at the top, three of its square faces can be seen; and two, if not three, of these faces bear marks of being hammer-dressed. The distance from the stone to the well is about 40 yards, and the height of the stone out of the ground about 3 or 4 feet.
"The ascent from the well is a gentle one, not 'sheer'; nor does there appear to be any hollow by which the shepherd could ascend. On the western side of the road there is a wide plain, with a slight fall in that direction."
"Hart-Leap Well is the tale for me; in matter as good as this (Peter Bell); in manner infinitely before it, in my poor judgment."
Charles Lamb to Wordsworth, May 1819. (See The Letters of Charles Lamb, edited by Alfred Ainger, vol. ii. p. 20.)—Ed.
[Contents 1800]
[Main Contents]
The Idle Shepherd-Boys; or, Dungeon-Ghyll Force[A]
A Pastoral
Composed 1800.—Published 1800
[Written at Town-end, Grasmere. I will only add a little monitory anecdote concerning this subject. When Coleridge and Southey were walking together upon the Fells, Southey observed that, if I wished to be considered a faithful painter of rural manners, I ought not to have said that my shepherd-boys trimmed their rustic hats as described in the poem. Just as the words had passed his lips two boys appeared with the very plant entwined round their hats. I have often wondered that Southey, who rambled so much about the mountains, should have fallen into this mistake, and I record it as a warning for others who, with far less opportunity than my dear friend had of knowing what things are, and far less sagacity, give way to presumptuous criticism, from which he was free, though in this matter mistaken. In describing a tarn under Helvellyn I say:
"There sometimes doth a leaping fish
Send through the tarn a lonely cheer."