■. . 
©ait. 
211 
His dull eyes only measured ■well 
What moneys it would bring. 
But while he doomed the lordly oak, 
His wicked life ebbed low, 
And suddenly, death summoned him 
From his ill-got hoards to go. 
The grand estate—the ancient hall, 
The woods, and wealth untold, 
Came then unto that warrior’s child, 
A boy of ten years old. 
He was a thoughtful, quiet boy, 
For though yet young in years. 
His mother’s sorrows and his own 
Had made him old in tears. 
And with a calm and gentle joy 
Came home that youthful heir, 
For his chief source of gladness was, 
To bring his mother there:— 
To watch her sadly smile to see 
Again each well-known spot, 
Where days of happiness had passed. 
That ne’er could be forgot:— 
To have her former state restored, 
Maidens, and serving-men; 
And garments, richer than of old, 
He bade them bring her then. 
