81 VOICES FROM THE WOODLANDS. 



wild boars, and large white cattle of fierce aspect, ranged 

 within its covert. The ancient Briton followed them with 

 bow and arrow, the Saxon with his spear ; men of mingled 

 races hunted the tall deer in Bluff King Harry's days ; and 

 often, in the calmness of a summer evening, you might hear 

 the buck-bell, when all else was still, save the whisper of 

 wind among the branches and the roaring of the torrent at 

 my base. 



But now, aged and storm-ridden, my day of greatness 

 has long passed. No longer a majestic tree, but nearly 

 branchless and grey with lichens, innumerable agents 

 hasten the work of demolition. Time was, when, standing 

 in my strength, it would have ill become me to speak of 

 weakness or decay ; but now the case is different. 



" My forest boughs, 

 That danced unnumbered to the playful breeze," 



the haunt of nameless nations, have fallen to the ground, 

 mid, borne by peasant children to their cottage homes, have 



