210 ©aft. 
To sweep along by vale and hill. 
Or through the forest glade, 
Where the echoes of their laughter light 
A merry music made. 
And oft they reined their palfreys in 
Beneath the young Oak tree, 
And oft foretold how grand a thing 
In after-time ’twould be. 
These jocund sports passed all away ; 
For direful civil war 
Spread its fell curse throughout the land, 
Wasting it near and far. 
And the next lord these broad lands had, 
A warrior stern was he, 
He dwelt with camps and cannon more 
Than sylvan glade and tree. 
He died in battle ; and his lands 
By craft and deeds unfair, 
His brother claimed and won, although 
His infant son was heir. 
This hard, bad man was miserly, 
And loved no thing save gold; 
He soon marked out the stately tree, 
To be cut down and sold. 
What was its beauty unto him ? — 
The grand and noble thing! 
