OAK TUEK. 297 



A wretched ragged man, o'ergrown with hair, 

 Lay sleeping on his back." 



'Twerc strange indeed, had Spenser neglected such a 

 tree : 



" There grew an aged tree on the green, 

 A goodly oak sometime had it been, 

 With arms full strong, and largely displayed, 

 But of their leaves they were disarrayed : 

 The body big, and mightily pight 

 Throughly rooted, and of wondrous height : 

 AVhylom had been the king of the field, 

 And mochel mast to the husband did yield, 

 And with his nuts larded many swine. 

 But now the gray moss marred his rine ; 

 His bared boughs were beaten with storms, 

 His top was bald, and wasted with worms, 

 His honor decayed, his braunches sere ; 



For it had been an antient tree, 

 Sacred with many a mystery." 



Shepherd's Calendar, February. 



Lucan compares Cato in age to a withered Oak : 



" Careless of future ills that might betide, 

 No aid he sought to prop his failing sick-, 

 But on his former fortune much relied. 

 Still seemed he to possess and fill his place ; 

 But stood the shadow of what once he was. 

 So, in the field with Ceres' bounty spread, 

 Uprears some ancient oak his reverend head ; 

 Chaplets, and sacred gifts his boughs adorn, 

 And spoils of war by mighty heroes worn. 

 But the first vigor of his root now gone, 

 He stands dependent on his weight alone; 

 All bare his naked branches are displayed, 

 And with his leafless trunk he forms no 



