The first, a reckless forester,
Loved horse, and hawk, and hound,
And he chased all o’er his wide domains,
Wellnigh the whole year round.
His lady fair, as dames were wont,
In those long bygone days,
Loved hawking too; and gallant trains
She led through forest ways.
’Twas a merry and a winsome thing,
When lord, and squire, and knight
Rode forth, mid bugles ringing shrill,
With dainty ladies bright,
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!
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.