 | Miscellaneous Poems |  |
106
BURNHAM BEECHES.
1850.
Prophetic of the coming storm of woes,
The forest-giants shook their tresses wild;
And ever as the shout of battle rose,
With clash of arms, and spear on spear uppiled,
Sounds from each aged trunk were heard to bear,
Tidings of flight and war along the troubled air.
The forest-giants shook their tresses wild;
And ever as the shout of battle rose,
With clash of arms, and spear on spear uppiled,
Sounds from each aged trunk were heard to bear,
Tidings of flight and war along the troubled air.
Scathed by the lightning's bolt,—the wintry storm,
A giant brotherhood, ye stand sublime;
Like some huge fortress, each majestic form
Still frowns defiance to the power of Time.
Cloud after cloud the storm of war has roll'd,
Since ye your countless years of long descent have told.
A giant brotherhood, ye stand sublime;
Like some huge fortress, each majestic form
Still frowns defiance to the power of Time.
Cloud after cloud the storm of war has roll'd,
Since ye your countless years of long descent have told.
Say, for ye saw brave Harold's bowmen yield,
Ye heard the Norman's princely trumpet blow;
And ye beheld, upon that later field,
Red with her rival's blood, the Rose of Snow;
And ye too saw from Chalgrove's hills of flame,
When to your sheltering arms the wounded soldier came.
Ye heard the Norman's princely trumpet blow;
And ye beheld, upon that later field,
Red with her rival's blood, the Rose of Snow;
And ye too saw from Chalgrove's hills of flame,
When to your sheltering arms the wounded soldier came.
107
Can ye forget, when by yon thicket green,
A troop of scatter'd horsemen cross'd the plain;
And in the midst a statelier form was seen,—
A snow-white charger yielded to his rein;
One backward look on Naseby's field he cast,
And then, with anxious flight, and speed redoubled, past.
A troop of scatter'd horsemen cross'd the plain;
And in the midst a statelier form was seen,—
A snow-white charger yielded to his rein;
One backward look on Naseby's field he cast,
And then, with anxious flight, and speed redoubled, past.
But far away these scenes have fled, and now—
Sweet change! the song of summer-birds is thine;
Peace hangs her garlands on each aged bough,
And bright o'er thee the dews of morning shine:
Earth brings with grateful hand her tribute meet,—
Wild flowers, and coloured weeds, to bloom around thy feet.
Sweet change! the song of summer-birds is thine;
Peace hangs her garlands on each aged bough,
And bright o'er thee the dews of morning shine:
Earth brings with grateful hand her tribute meet,—
Wild flowers, and coloured weeds, to bloom around thy feet.
Here may unmark'd the wandering Poet muse,
Through these green lawns the Lady's palfry glide;
Nor here the pensive nightingale refuse
Her sweetest, richest song at eventide;
The wild deer bounds at will from glade to glade,
Or stretch'd on mossy fern his antler'd brow is laid.
Through these green lawns the Lady's palfry glide;
Nor here the pensive nightingale refuse
Her sweetest, richest song at eventide;
The wild deer bounds at will from glade to glade,
Or stretch'd on mossy fern his antler'd brow is laid.
Farewell, beloved shades! enough for me,
Through each wild copse and tangled dell to roam,
Amid your forest-paths to wander free,
And find, where'er I go, a sheltering home:
Earth has no gentler voice to man to give,
Than “Come to Nature's arms, and learn of her to live!”
Through each wild copse and tangled dell to roam,
Amid your forest-paths to wander free,
And find, where'er I go, a sheltering home:
Earth has no gentler voice to man to give,
Than “Come to Nature's arms, and learn of her to live!”
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