The Vassal's Lament for the Fallen Tree

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 fallen! 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!
But the hour of the knell and the dirge is nigh,
For the tree hath fallen, and the flower must die.

Say not ’tis vain! I tell thee, some
Are warn’d by a meteor’s light,
Or a pale bird, flitting, calls them home,
Or a voice on the winds by night;
And they must go! And he too, he!--
Woe for the fall of the glorious Tree!