298 SYLVAN SKETCHES. 



Yet though the winds his ruin daily threat, 

 As every blast would heave him from his seat; 

 Though thousand fairer trees the field supplies, 

 That rich in youthful verdure round him rise, 

 Fixed in his ancient seat, he yields to none, 

 And wears the honours of the grove alone." 



HOWE'S Lucan, book i. 



Cowper's poem of Yardley Oak is too long to insert 

 altogether, yet it will scarcely bear curtailment. 



" Survivor sole, and hardly such, of all 



That once lived here, my brethren, at my birth, 

 (Since which I number threescore winters past,) 

 A shattered veteran, hollow-trunked, perhaps, 

 As now, and with excoriate forks deform, 

 Relic of ages ! could a mind imbued 

 With truth from Heaven, created thing adore, 

 1 might with reverence kneel, and worship thee. 



* * , * * * 



Thou wcrt a bauble once, a cup and ball, 

 Which babes might play with ; and the thievish jay, 

 Seeking her food, with ease might have purloined 

 The auburn nut that held thee, swallowing down 

 Thy yet close-folded latitude of boughs, 

 And all thine embryo vastness, at a gulp. 

 But fate thy growth decreed, autumnal rains 

 Beneath thy parent tree mellowed the soil, 



Designed thy cradle. 



* * * 



two lobes, protruding, paired exact ; 



A leaf succeeded, and another leaf, 

 And, all the elements thy puny growth 

 Fostering propitious, thou becam'st a twig. 



* * * * 



Time made thee what thou wast, king of the woods ; 

 And Time hath made thee what thou art, a cave 

 For owls to roost in. Once thy spreading boughs 

 O'erhung the champaign : and the numerous flock;, 



