-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!