©aft. 209 
To the good trees of which I sing:— 
Well have they won their fame I 
And massive tables, that have once 
Groaned ’neath baronial fare, 
If they could talk of that Oak wood, 
Might tell of dwelling there.— 
The young Oak tree yet statelier grew, 
And broader spread its shade, 
And the dappled deer lay sheltered ’neath 
The canopy it made. 
Years came and went.—The Oak tree stood 
In full-grown prime and pride, 
And lords of various mind and mood 
Possessed those woodlands wide. 
The first, a reckless forester, 
Loved horse, and hawk, and hound. 
And he chased all o’er his wide domains, 
Wellnigh the whole year round. 
His lady fair, as dames were wont, 
In those long bygone days, 
Loved hawking too; and gallant trains 
She led through forest ways. 
>Twas a merry and a winsome thing, 
When lord, and squire, and knight 
Rode forth, mid bugles ringing shrill, 
With dainty ladies bright, 
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