THE VASSAL'S LAMENT FOR THE "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, For the axe might never touch that tree, I saw it fall, as falls a chief By an arrow in the fight, And the old woods shook, to their loftiest leaf And the startled deer to their coverts drew, "Tis fall'n! but think thou not I weep To be pour'd for this alone! A youthful head, with its shining hair, But on his brow the mark is set Oh! could my life redeem him yet! He bounded by me as I gazed And it seem'd like sunshine when he raised His joyous glance to mine! With a stag's fleet step he bounded by, So full of life-but he must die! He must, he must! in that deep dell, "Tis known that ne'er a proud tree fell, And he there 's laughter in his eye, Joy in his voice-yet he must die! I've borne him in these arms, that now And must I see, on that fair brow, The dust untimely flung? I must!-yon green oak, branch and crest, The noble boy!-how proudly sprung It seem'd like youth to see him young, A flower in his father's land! But the hour of the knell and the dirge is nigh, For the tree hath fall'n, and the flower must die. Say not 'tis vain!-I tell thee, some THE WILD HUNTSMAN. It is a popular belief in the Odenwald, that the passing of the Wild Huntsman announces the approach of war. He is supposed to issue with his train from the ruined castle of Rodenstein, and traverse the air to the opposite castle of Schnellerts. It is confidently asserted that the sound of his phantom horses and hounds was heard by the Duke of Baden before the commencement of the last war in Germany. THY rest was deep at the slumberer's hour Of the savage horn, from the mountain-tower, The stag sprung up from his mossy bed The banner shook on its ancient hold, With the din of the trampling race; And the glens were fill'd with the laugh and shout, And the bugle, ringing out! From the chieftain's hand the wine-cup fell, At the castle's festive board, And a sudden pause came o'er the swell The convent's chanted rite was stay'd, And a trembling ran through the forest-shade, The storm hath swept with the chase away, But the mother looks on her son to-day, And the maiden's brow hath a shade of care * Minnesinger, love-singer; the wandering minstrels of Germany were so called in the middle ages. |