When wild deer ranged the forest free,
Mid Whinfell oaks stood Hart's-Horn Tree;
Which, for three hundred years and more,
Upon its stem the antlers bore
Of that thrice-famous Hart-of-Grease
That ran the race with Hercules.
The King of Scots, to hunt the game
With brave de Clifford southward came:
Pendragon, Appleby, and Brough'm,
Gave all his bold retainers room;
And all came gathering to the chase
Which ended in that matchless race.
Beneath a mighty oak at morn
The stag was roused with bugle horn;
Unleashed, de Clifford's noblest Hound
Rushed to the chase with strenuous bound;
And stretching forth, the Hart-of-Grease
Led off with famous Hercules.
They ran, and northward held their way;
They ran till dusk, from dawning grey;
O'er Cumbrian waste, and Border moor,
Till England's line was speeded o'er;
And Red-kirk on the Scottish ground
Mark'd of their chase the farthest bound.
Then turned they southward, stretching on,
They ran till day was almost gone;
Till Eamont came again in view;
Till Whinfell oaks again they knew;
They ran, and reached at eve the place
Where first began their desperate race.
They panted on, till almost broke
Each beast's strong heart with its own stroke!
They panted on, both well nigh blind,
The Hart before, the Hound behind!
And now will strength the Hart sustain
To take him o'er the pale again?
He sprang his best; that leap has won
His triumph, but his chase is done!
He lies stone dead beyond the bound;
And stretched on this side lies the Hound!
His last bold spring to clear the wall
Was vain; and life closed with his fall.
The steeds had fail'd, squires', knights', and king's,
Long ere the chase reached Solway's springs!
But on the morrow news came in
To Brough'm, amidst the festive din,
How held the chase, how far, how wide
It swerved and swept, and where they died.
Ah! gallant pair! such chase before
Was never seen, nor shall be more:
And Scotland's King and England's Knight
Looked, mutely wondering, on the sight,
Where with that wall of stone between
Lay Hart and Hound stretched on the green.
Then spoke the King--"For equal praise
This hand their monument shall raise!
These antlers from this Oak shall spread;
And evermore shall here be said,
That Hercules killed Hart-of-Grease,
And Hart-of-Grease killed Hercules.
"From Whinfell woods to Red-kirk plain,
And back to Whinfell Oaks again,
Not fourscore English miles would tell!
But"--said the King--"they spann'd it well.
And by my kingdom, I will say
They ran a noble race that day!"--
Then said de Clifford to the King--
"Through many an age this feat shall ring!
But of your Majesty I crave
That Hercules may have his grave
In ground beneath these branches free,
From this day forth called Hart's-Horn Tree."
And there where both were 'reft of life,
And both were victors in the strife,
Survives this saying on that chase,
In memory of their famous race--
"Here Hercules killed Hart-of-Grease,
And Hart-of-Grease killed Hercules."