II.
To every season is its own peculiar beauty given,
In every age of mortal men we see the Hand of Heaven;
And century to century utters a glorious speech,
And peace to war, and war to peace, eternal lessons teach.
III.
O grand, old woods, your forest-sires were thus as bright and gay,
Before the axe’s murderous voice had spoiled their sylvan play;
When other axes smote our sires and laid them stiff and low,
On Hastings’ unforgotten field, eight hundred years ago.
IV.
Eight hundred years ago, long years, before Jacques Cartier clomb
The Royal Height, where now no more the red men fearless roam!
Eight hundred years ago, long years before Columbus came
From stately Spain to find the world that ought to bear his name!
V.
The Sussex woods were bright and red on that October morn;
And Sussex soil was red with blood before the next was born;
But from that red united clay another race did start
On the great stage of destiny to act a noble part.