"Well done!" cried Francis, "bravely done!" and he rose
from where he sat:
"No love," quoth he, "but vanity, sets love a task like that."
LEIGH HUNT.
THE WELL OF ST. KEYNE.
I found the Well of St. Keyne in Cornwall, England--not the poem, but
the real well. The poem is of the great body of world-lore. Southey
(1774-1843).
A well there is in the west country,
And a clearer one never was seen;
There is not a wife in the west-country
But has heard of the Well of St. Keyne.
An oak and an elm tree stand beside,
And behind does an ash tree grow,
And a willow from the bank above
Droops to the water below.
A traveller came to the Well of St. Keyne:
Pleasant it was to his eye,
For from cock-crow he had been travelling
And there was not a cloud in the sky.
He drank of the water so cool and clear,
For thirsty and hot was he,
And he sat down upon the bank,
Under the willow tree.
There came a man from the neighbouring town
At the well to fill his pail;
On the well-side he rested it,
And bade the stranger hail.
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