THE OAK. 



15 



we fancied that it was a Fir-tree, and the Oaks 

 borrow^ed from it, by comparison, a dignity not 

 their own. On a rough guess, there are from 

 300 to 500 veteran trees in the w^ood, and, 

 as we were glad to find, a great number of 

 saplings.* 



How heavily 

 That old wood sleeps in the sunshine — not a leaf 

 Is twinkling — not a wing is seen to move 

 Within it ; but below, a mountain stream 

 Conflicting with the rocks, is ever heard 

 Cheering the drowsy noon. Thy guardian Oaks, 

 My country, are thy boast — a giant race. 

 And undegenerate still ; but of this grove, 

 This pigmy grove, not one has climbed the air 

 So emulously that its loftiest branch 

 May brush the traveller's brow. The twisted roots 

 Have clasped in search of nourishment the rocks, 

 And straggled wide, and pierced the stony soil 

 - In vain ; denied maternal succour, here 



A dwarfish race has risen. Round the boughs, 



Hoary and feeble, and around the trunks. 



With grasp destructive, feeding on the life 



That lingers yet, the ivy winds, and moss 



Of growth enormous. E'en the dull wild weed 



Has fix'd itself upon the very crown 



Of many an ancient Oak ; and thus, refused 



By Nature kindly aid, dishonoured, old, 



Dreary in aspect — silentlj^ decays 



The lonely wood of W^istman. 



Carrington's Dartmoor^ p. 56. 



The description of the Oaks in Wistman's Wood 

 given above does not, however, at all accord with 

 the usual character of the tree, which certainly is, 

 under favourable circumstances, an apt emblem 

 of stateliness, majesty, strength, and durability. 

 Evelyn, after enumerating several remarkable 

 trees, records of which have been transmitted to 



* This account of Wistman's Wood was written for a Botanical 

 Journal, "The Phytologist," January 11th, 1845. 



