©ah. 
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:— 
0 
To have her former state restored, 
Maidens, and serving-men; 
And garments, richer than of old, 
He bade them bring her then. 
