PART, V.
Whence, Needwood, that tremendous sound!—
—Low dying murmurs run around,
A deeper gloom the wood receives,
And horror shivers on the leaves,
Loud shriekes the hern, the raven croaks—
Destruction’s arm arrests thy oaks![33]
Onward with giant strides he towers,
Dooms with dread voice thy withering bowers,
High o’er his head the broad axe wields,
Stamps with his iron foot, and shakes the fields!
When from her lawless rocks and sands
Arabia pours her ruffian bands,
The village hinds in wild distress
Around some holy hermit press
Orb within orb, their wrongs declare,
And ask his counsel and his prayer;
All white with age, inspir’d he stands,
And lifts to heaven his wrinkled hands!
So seems the affrighted forest, drawn
In crowds around this lonely lawn:
High in the midst with many a frown
Out-spreads his bare arms to the skies,
The ruins of six centuries,
Deep groans pervade his rifted rind—
—He speaks his bitterness of mind.
“Your impious hands, barbarians, hold!
“Ye pause! but fir’d with lust of gold,
“Your leader lifts his axe, and like
“Deaf are the ruthless ears of gain,
“And youth and beauty plead in vain.
“—Loud groans the wood with thick’ning strokes!
“Yes, ye must perish, filial oaks!
“In heaps your wither’d trunks be laid,
“And wound the lawns, ye used to shade;
“Whilst Avarice on the naked pile
“Exulting casts a hideous smile.
“Strike here! on me exhaust your rage,
“Nor let false pity spare my age!
“No pity dwells with sordid slaves;
“’Tis want of worth alone that saves.
“Yes, ye will leave me with disdain
“A mouldring land-mark on the plain,
“Where many a reign my trunk hath stood
“Proud father of the circling wood.
“In freedom’s dearest days I grew,[36]
“And Henry’s jealous nobles knew;
“I saw them pierce the bounding game,
“And heard their horn announce the claim.
“No more, beneath my favorite shade,
“The forest youth and village maid
“Shall meet to plight their troth, and mark
“Their loves memorial on my bark.
“Yet, yet, fond Hope, thy distant light[37]
“Beams unexpected on my sight;
“Lo Vernon hastes, the common friend!
“The affrighted forest to defend;
“Bids the keen axe the saplings spare,
“And makes posterity his care.
“Yes, Joy shall see these scenes renew’d,
“Shall wake his sister Gratitude,
“Shall call on lawns and hills and dells
“The silent echoes from their cells,
“Long trains of golden years proclaim,
“And Needwood ring with Vernon’s name.”
He ceas’d, and shook his hoary brow:
Glad murmurs fill the vale below,
The deer in gambols bound along,
The plighted birds resume their song.
Thrice-venerable Druid, hail!
O may thy sacred words prevail,
May Needwood’s oaks successive stand
The lasting wonder of the land!—
And may some powerful bard arise,
Tho’ heaven to me that power denies,
The Pope or Denham of his days,
Whose lofty verse shall match their praise.
FINIS.