And there before the blessed shrine,
My sire! I see thee lie,—
How will that sad still face of thine
Look on me till I die!”
THE VASSAL’S LAMENT FOR THE FALLEN TREE.
[“Here (at Brereton in Cheshire) is one thing incredibly strange, but attested, as I myself have heard, by many persons, and commonly believed. Before any heir of this family dies, there are seen, in a lake adjoining, the bodies of trees swimming on the water for several days.”—Camden’s Britannia.]
Yes! I have seen the ancient oak
On the dark deep water cast,
And it was not fell’d by the woodman’s stroke,
Or the rush of the sweeping blast;