The works of Mrs. Hemans With a memoir of her life, by her sister. In seven volumes |
 | I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
 | VI. |
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THE LAST TREE OF THE FOREST. |
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| VII. |
 | The works of Mrs. Hemans |  |
THE LAST TREE OF THE FOREST.
Whisper, thou Tree, thou lonely Tree,
One, where a thousand stood!
Well might proud tales be told by thee,
Last of the solemn wood!
One, where a thousand stood!
Well might proud tales be told by thee,
Last of the solemn wood!
Dwells there no voice amidst thy boughs,
With leaves yet darkly green?
Stillness is round, and noontide glows—
Tell us what thou hast seen.
With leaves yet darkly green?
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Tell us what thou hast seen.
“I have seen the forest shadows lie
Where men now reap the corn;
I have seen the kingly chase rush by,
Through the deep glades at morn.
Where men now reap the corn;
I have seen the kingly chase rush by,
Through the deep glades at morn.
“With the glance of many a gallant spear,
And the wave of many a plume,
And the bounding of a hundred deer,
It hath lit the woodland's gloom.
And the wave of many a plume,
And the bounding of a hundred deer,
It hath lit the woodland's gloom.
“I have seen the knight and his train ride past,
With his banner borne on high;
O'er all my leaves there was brightness cast
From his gleaming panoply.
With his banner borne on high;
O'er all my leaves there was brightness cast
From his gleaming panoply.
“The pilgrim at my feet hath laid
His palm branch 'midst the flowers,
And told his beads, and meekly pray'd,
Kneeling, at vesper-hours.
His palm branch 'midst the flowers,
And told his beads, and meekly pray'd,
Kneeling, at vesper-hours.
“And the merry-men of wild and glen,
In the green array they wore,
Have feasted here, with the red wine's cheer,
And the hunter's song of yore.
In the green array they wore,
Have feasted here, with the red wine's cheer,
And the hunter's song of yore.
“And the minstrel, resting in my shade,
Hath made the forest ring
With the lordly tales of the high Crusade,
Once loved by chief and king.
Hath made the forest ring
With the lordly tales of the high Crusade,
Once loved by chief and king.
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“But now the noble forms are gone
That walk'd the earth of old;
The soft wind hath a mournful tone,
The sunny light looks cold.
That walk'd the earth of old;
The soft wind hath a mournful tone,
The sunny light looks cold.
“There is no glory left us now,
Like the glory with the dead:—
I would that where they slumber low
My latest leaves were shed!”
Like the glory with the dead:—
I would that where they slumber low
My latest leaves were shed!”
Oh! thou dark Tree, thou lonely Tree,
That mournest for the past!
A peasant's home in thy shades I see,
Embower'd from every blast.
That mournest for the past!
A peasant's home in thy shades I see,
Embower'd from every blast.
A lovely and a mirthful sound
Of laughter meets mine ear;
For the poor man's children sport around
On the turf, with nought to fear.
Of laughter meets mine ear;
For the poor man's children sport around
On the turf, with nought to fear.
And roses lend that cabin's wall
A happy summer-glow:
And the open door stands free to all,
For it recks not of a foe.
A happy summer-glow:
And the open door stands free to all,
For it recks not of a foe.
And the village bells are on the breeze
That stirs thy leaf, dark Tree!
How can I mourn, 'midst things like these,
For the stormy past, with thee?
That stirs thy leaf, dark Tree!
How can I mourn, 'midst things like these,
For the stormy past, with thee?
| The works of Mrs. Hemans | |