THE Ox_tp MonarRcu. 21 
=) 

THE OLD MONARCH. 
PON the knoll well up the rocky rising lands, 
Beside the sportsman’s trapping line the monarch stands ; 
Outlined upon the sky when seen from lake afar, 
And on the brightest days is seen its latest scar. 
A Monarch still, that to boreas yields no place, 
Till time and storm shall more conduce to his disgrace. 
Not many years have passed since on it there did rest 
Upon three stubs of limbs, high up, an eagle’s nest. 
And with the king of birds upon the remnant of a bough, 
It did not look so lonely then as it looks now ; 
Tall, bleached and bare, all hoary gray with age, 
It yet defies the storm with boreas in his rage. 
Stripped clean by wind and rain, of every limb bereft ; 
No branch or twig, no bud, or tiny leaf, is left 
To cast their shade, or waive and tremble in the breeze, 
Yet still erect the giant stands above all other trees. 
Years long agone it looked as old as now, to-day, 
All weatherworn and smooth upon its bole and gray 
Save one long, 
The lightning came, ’twere not enough that it had died. 
scathing streak, all furrowed down its side; 
It yet stands firm upon its feet though it is dead ; 
How many, many years with spring and fall have fled 
Since first two tiny leaves peeped out and saw the sun, 
Who of us all can tell? God is the only one. 
