-Hush'd, hush'd-how is it that I call

And that thou answerest not?

When was it thus ?-woe, woe for all
The love my soul forgot!

"Thy silver hairs I see,

So still, so sadly bright!

And father, father! but for me,

They had not been so white!
I bore thee down, high heart! at last,
No longer couldst thou strive ;-

Oh! for one moment of the past,

To kneel and say-' forgive!'

"Thou wert the noblest king,

On royal throne e'er seen;
And thou didst wear, in knightly ring,

Of all, the stateliest mien ;

And thou didst prove, where spears are proved

In war, the bravest heart

-Oh! ever the renown'd and loved

Thou wert-and there thou art!

"Thou that my boyhood's guide Didst take fond joy to be!— The times I 've sported at thy side,

And climb'd thy parent-knee! And there before the blessed shrine, My sire! I see thee lie,—

-How will that sad still face of thine Look on me till I die!

20

THE VASSAL'S LAMENT FOR THE FALLEN TREE.

"Here (at Brereton in Cheshire) is one thing incredibly strange, but attested, as I myself have heard, by many persons, and commonly believed. Before any heir of this family dies, there are seen, in a lake adjoining, the bodies of trees swimming on the water for several days."

Camden's Britannia.

YES! I have seen the ancient oak

On the dark deep water cast,

And it was not fell'd by the woodman's stroke,
Or the rush of the sweeping blast;

For the axe might never touch that tree,

And the air was still as a summer-sea.

I saw it fall, as falls a chief

By an arrow in the fight,

And the old woods shook, to their loftiest leaf, At the crashing of its might!

And the startled deer to their coverts drew, And the spray of the lake as a fountain's flew !

"Tis fall'n! but think thou not I

weep

For the forest's pride o'erthrown;

An old man's tears lie far too deep,

To be pour'd for this alone!

But by that sign too well I know,
That a youthful head must soon be low!

A youthful head, with its shining hair,
And its bright quick-flashing eye—
-Well may I weep! for the boy is fair,
Too fair a thing to die!

But on his brow the mark is set

Oh! could my life redeem him yet!

He bounded by me as I gazed
Alone on the fatal sign,

'And it seem'd like sunshine when he raised

His joyous glance to mine!

With a stag's fleet step he bounded by,

So full of life-but he must die!

He must, he must! in that deep dell,
By that dark water's side,

"Tis known that ne'er a proud tree fell,
But an heir of his fathers died.

And he there's laughter in his eye,
Joy in his voice-yet he must die!

I've borne him in these arms, that now
Are nerveless and unstrung;
And must I see, on that fair brow,

The dust untimely flung?

I must!-yon green oak, branch and crest,
Lies floating on the dark lake's breast!

The noble boy!-how proudly sprung
The falcon from his hand!

It seem'd like youth to see him young,
A flower in his father's land!