ARBOR DA Y MANUAL. 95 



THE OAK OF OUR FATHERS. 



ALAS for the Oak of our Fathers, that stood, 

 In its beauty, the glory and pride of the wood ! 



It grew and it flourished for many an age, 



And many a tempest wreaked on it its rage; 



But, when its strong branches were bent with the blast, 



It struck its root deeper, and flourished more fast. 



Its head towered on high, and its branches spread round ; 

 For its roots had struck deep, and its heart was sound; 

 The bees o'er its honey-dewed foliage played, 

 And the beasts of the forest fed under its shade. 



The Oak of our Fathers to Freedom was dear ; 



Its leaves were her crown, and its wood was her spear. 



Alas for the Oak of our Fathers, that stood, 



In its beauty, the glory and pride of the wood ! 



There crept up an ivy, and clung round the trunk ; 

 It struck in its mouths, and its juices it drunk ; 

 The branches grew sickly, deprived of their food, 

 And the Oak was no longer the pride of the wood. 



The foresters saw, and they gathered around ; 

 The roots still were fast, and the heart still was sound; 

 They lopt off the boughs that so beautiful spread, 

 But the ivy they spared on its vitals that fed. 



No longer the bees o'er its honey-dews played, 

 Xor the beasts of the forest fed under its shade; 

 Lopt and mangled, the trunk in its ruin is seen, 

 A monument now what its beauty has been. 



The Oak has received its incurable wound ; 



They have loosened the roots, though the heart may be sound ; 



What the travelers at distance green-flourishing see, 



Are the leaves of the ivy that poisoned the tree. 



Alas for the Oak of our Fathers, that stood 

 In its beauty, the glory and pride of the wood ! 



ROBERT SOUTHEY, 1798. 



' First, in green apparel dancing, 

 The young spring smiled with angel grace." 



THOMAS CAMPBELL. 



