University of Virginia Library

Oh for the time, the olden time,
When earth was in its youthful prime—
The time of truth and glory;
When men were men of manly mould,
Ere faith was bought, and friendship sold,
And honor but a name for gold,
And love a minstrel's story!
When smiles were worn to welcome friends,
And frowns for open foes;
And smiles and frowns had honest ends—
Zeal, faith, and lusty blows.
When words but spoke the bosom's truth,
And hands avouched that words were sooth;
And men were weighed as they were worth,
For gallant deeds and generous birth,
Wit, virtue, valor, fame.
For them nor garb the limbs might wear,
Nor glittering trash their pouches bear,
Gave honor, place, or name;
All in the time, the olden time,
When earth was in her youthful prime,
The time of truth and glory.

Then slavish bearing marked the slave,
And none were noble but the brave;
None louted to the golden knave,
With pedigree in purse.
Then honest merit stood as high,
Although his weeds were sere,
And bore his head as near the sky
As paladin or peer.
The proudest prince the sword who drew,
When trumpets rang and splinters flew,
Shields broke, and red blood ran,
Dared not, though daring was his trade,
To wrong by word, unproved by blade,
The meanest gentleman.
The poet's place was honored then;
The fount of glory was his pen,
His scorn the deepest curse.
Then courtesy was nigh to State,
And none so gentle as the great,
So humble as the high.
And wealth was vile that decked the rude,
And good was prized but for the good
The owner did thereby.
All in the time—the olden time—
When earth was in her youthful prime,
The time of truth and glory.

Then ladies' love was merit's meed,
And sought in truth, and wooed in deed,
For it was worth the wooing;
When none might hope to prosper there,
By costly garb, or courtly air,
Unless his heart were right.
When hearts were only proved by trial,
And constancy by stern denial,
And courage but by fight.
When to have failed the weak to aid,
When to have wronged the humblest maid,
To have hedged one pace from truth aside,
One pace from war's most deadly tide,
Had been a king's undoing.
When every wish that, half expressed,
Faint faltered from the maiden's breast,
Who, safe as diamond wrapped in flame,
Preserved her honor's purity,
Was law to every knightly crest,
Although a queen's supreme behest,
Were but one blot upon her fame,
Had passed unheeded by.

All in the time—the olden time—
When earth was in her youthful prime,
The time of love and glory;
When men were men of manly mould,
Ere faith was bought, and friendship sold,
And honor but a name for gold,
And love a minstrel's story,

Then happy was the peasant's hut;
The squire's hall-door was never shut,
Nor yet his buttery latch;
And when the Christmas chimes rang out,
Though wild the wintry storms did shout,
The yeoman sent the ale about
Beneath his roof of thatch.
His step was firm, his bearing bold,
His heart of the good English mould,
Bowed not to force or fear.
No slave was he i' the olden day,
Yet dared his parents to obey,
His betters to revere.
For though he could not pen a line,
Nor knew to read the book divine,
Nor clerkly hymns to sing;
The churchyard path he weekly trod,
His heart was faithful to his God,
And loyal to his king.
No brawling demagogues had then
Poured passion in the ears of men,
And filled their souls with gall;
The laborer, by his evening cheer,
Envied not, hated not the peer
In his ancestral hall;
But rich and poor were neighbors good,
And dreamed not, in their happy mood,
Nature had made them foes.
For side by side in sport they stood,
And side by side lay in their blood
When Britain's war-cry rose.
All in the time—the olden time—
When earth was in her youthful prime,
The time of truth and glory.

Now honesty is nothing worth,
And honor nothing high,
For sordid gold commands the earth,
If 't have not won the sky.
The meanest wretch that wakes at dawn,
To lie, to falter, and to fawn;
Give him but wealth enough,
And how shall virtue, birth, or name,
Service, desert, wisdom, fame,
Match with his gilded stuff?
For he shall cringe before the proud,
Flatter the rank, ignoble crowd,
With false demean, or fair,
Till he hath won his way to state,
And sits triumphant and elate
Where heroes might despair.
The rich man hoards his paltry pelf,
Or wastes it on his sordid self;
And beauty is no more the meed
Of generous worth or gallant deed,
Of faith or constancy;
But ladies weigh the purse's length
Against affection's deathless strength,
Virtue, and lineage high.
And youth, young spirit, soul of fire,
All that enamoured maids desire,
You sigh and plead in vain,
When wrinkled eld prefers his claim,
Of loveless wedlock linked to shame,
So wealth be in the train.
The noble wastes his high estate,
The peasant shivers at his gate,
With curses deep and low;
For evil tongues have thrust between,
Malice, haughtiness, and spleen,
Oppression, care, and woe;
And iron hands have marred the scene
Which gladdened every village green
Three hundred years ago.
The prince's state is sullen pride,
The church's rights are now denied,
And equity forsworn;
The low, if lowly, now are slaves
(The high, if courteous, fawning knaves),
Vile from their cradles to their graves,
The brawling liberal's scorn.

New world, alas! where all is strange,
Uncertain, dark, and full of change,
And naught preserves its name;
That men may doubt from all around,
Since nothing now is constant found,
If heaven be still the same.
Oh for the time—the olden time—
When earth was in her youthful prime,
The time of truth and glory!
Oh for the time—the olden time—
That now but lives in story!