PART, V.
Whence, Needwood, that tremendous sound!—
—Low dying murmurs run around,
A deeper gloom the wood receives,
And horror shivers on the leaves,
Loud shriekes the hern, the raven croaks—
Destruction’s arm arrests thy oaks![[33]]
Onward with giant strides he towers,
Dooms with dread voice thy withering bowers,
High o’er his head the broad axe wields,
Stamps with his iron foot, and shakes the fields!
When from her lawless rocks and sands
Arabia pours her ruffian bands,
The village hinds in wild distress
Around some holy hermit press
Orb within orb, their wrongs declare,
And ask his counsel and his prayer;
All white with age, inspir’d he stands,
And lifts to heaven his wrinkled hands!
So seems the affrighted forest, drawn
In crowds around this lonely lawn:
High in the midst with many a frown
Huge Swilcar shakes his tresses brown,[[34]]
Out-spreads his bare arms to the skies,
The ruins of six centuries,
Deep groans pervade his rifted rind—
—He speaks his bitterness of mind.
“Your impious hands, barbarians, hold!
“Ye pause! but fir’d with lust of gold,
“Your leader lifts his axe, and like
“Accursed Julius, bids you strike.[[35]]
“Deaf are the ruthless ears of gain,
“And youth and beauty plead in vain.
“—Loud groans the wood with thick’ning strokes!
“Yes, ye must perish, filial oaks!
“In heaps your wither’d trunks be laid,
“And wound the lawns, ye used to shade;
“Whilst Avarice on the naked pile
“Exulting casts a hideous smile.
“Strike here! on me exhaust your rage,
“Nor let false pity spare my age!
“No pity dwells with sordid slaves;
“’Tis want of worth alone that saves.
“Yes, ye will leave me with disdain
“A mouldring land-mark on the plain,
“Where many a reign my trunk hath stood
“Proud father of the circling wood.
“In freedom’s dearest days I grew,[[36]]
“And Henry’s jealous nobles knew;
“I saw them pierce the bounding game,
“And heard their horn announce the claim.
“No more, beneath my favorite shade,
“The forest youth and village maid
“Shall meet to plight their troth, and mark
“Their loves memorial on my bark.
“Yet, yet, fond Hope, thy distant light[[37]]
“Beams unexpected on my sight;
“Lo Vernon hastes, the common friend!
“The affrighted forest to defend;
“Bids the keen axe the saplings spare,
“And makes posterity his care.
“Yes, Joy shall see these scenes renew’d,
“Shall wake his sister Gratitude,
“Shall call on lawns and hills and dells
“The silent echoes from their cells,
“Long trains of golden years proclaim,
“And Needwood ring with Vernon’s name.”
He ceas’d, and shook his hoary brow:
Glad murmurs fill the vale below,
The deer in gambols bound along,
The plighted birds resume their song.
Thrice-venerable Druid, hail!
O may thy sacred words prevail,
May Needwood’s oaks successive stand
The lasting wonder of the land!—
And may some powerful bard arise,
Tho’ heaven to me that power denies,
The Pope or Denham of his days,
Whose lofty verse shall match their praise.
FINIS.
ADDRESS
TO
SWILCAR OAK,
DESCRIBED
In Mr. MUNDY’s Poem
ON
NEEDWOOD FOREST,
Hail, stately oak, whose wrinkled trunk hath stood
Age after age, the sov’reign of this wood;
You, who have seen a thousand springs unfold
Their ravell’d buds, and dip their flowers in gold;
Ten thousand times yon moon relight her horn,
And that bright eye of evening gild the morn.
Say, when of old the snow-hair’d druids pray’d
With mad-ey’d rapture in your hallow’d shade,
While to their altars bards and heroes throng,
And crouding nations join the ecstatick song;
Did e’er such dulcet notes arrest your gales,
As Mundy pours along the list’ning vales?
Yes, stately oak, thy leaf-wrapp’d head sublime
Erelong must perish in the wrecks of time;
Shou’d o’er thy brow the thunders harmless break,
And thy firm roots in vain the whirlwinds shake,
Yet must thou fall,—thy withering glories sunk,
Arm after arm shall leave the mould’ring trunk!
But Mundy’s verse shall consecrate thy name,
And rising forests envy Swilcar’s fame:
Green shall thy gems expand, thy branches play,
And bloom for ever in the immortal lay.
E. D.
A
RURAL CORONATION,
Inscribed to Mr. MUNDY,
On reading his Poem
ON
NEEDWOOD FOREST.
Haste from your dells, your woods, and lawns,
Nymphs, Naiads, Satyrs, Fays, and Fauns,
Haste! hither bring your flowers and boughs,
And weave a wreath for Mundy’s brows!
First twigs of oak from Swilcar rend,
And round his auburn temples bend;
Then tye the ends, that twisting meet,
With tendrils from the wood-bine sweet:
With laurel-blossoms next be spread
Pale ivy crosswise o’er his head;
These holly sprigs insert between,
—The berries blush amid the green—
While hare-bells blue, and lilies fair,
Mix’d with the wild-rose, deck his hair.
Now with fantastick step advance,
And hand in hand around him dance;
To oaten pipe attune his lays,
And hail the bard, who sings your praise.
“While the gay choirings of the grove
“Give breath to harmony and love,
“And golden furze and purple ling
“Around their mix’d embroidery fling,
“And, all irregularly join’d,
“Th’ according outline waves behind.”
A. S.