
ASPEN. 185 
When, though all things appeared ’neath her influence 
blest, 
Thou alone wert disturbed, thou alone couldst not 
rest ! 
But still, as lamenting some dreadful decree, 
Thou groanedst in the calm, like an outcast lone tree ! 
A voice from its leaves seemed to wail on mine ear, 
“« List, mortal ; attend the dark source of my fear ; 
Ah, learn the dread hour when we sank ’neath rebuke, 
And our boughs, as if grasped by a hurricane, shook ! 
When the morn rose in blood, when the dead wept 
around, 
And a curse ’gainst our seed burst in woe from the 
ground !— 
‘The Cross, amidst lightning on Calvary stained, 
Was made from our roots; there His blood hath re- 
mained ! j 
Creation, accursing, in misery spoke, 
And a shudder eternal then first o’er us broke ! 
From the serpent we’re named, the last doomed to be- 
tray ! 
Oh! no rest for the Aspen till earth fades away!” 

