Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, ed. Poems of Places: An Anthology in 31 Volumes.
England: Vols. I–IV. 1876–79.
The Vassals Lament for the Fallen Tree
By Felicia Hemans (17931835)
Y
On the dark deep water cast,
And it was not felled by the woodman’s stroke,
Or the rush of the sweeping blast;
For the axe might never touch that tree,
And the air was still as a summer sea.
By an arrow in the fight,
And the old woods shook, to their loftiest leaf,
At the crashing of its might;
And the startled deer to their coverts drew,
And the spray of the lake as a fountain’s flew!
For the forest’s pride o’erthrown,—
An old man’s tears lie far too deep
To be poured for this alone:
But by that sign too well I know
That a youthful head must soon be low!
And its bright quick-flashing eye;
Well may I weep! for the boy is fair,
Too fair a thing to die!
But on his brow the mark is set,—
O, could my life redeem him yet!
Alone on the fatal sign,
And it seemed 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!
By that dark water’s side,
’T is known that ne’er a proud tree fell
But an heir of his fathers died.
And he,—there ’s laughter in his eye,
Joy in his voice,—yet he must die!
Are nerveless and unstrung;
And must I see, on that fair brow,
The dust untimely flung?
I must!—yon green oak, branch and crest,
Lies floating on the dark lake’s breast!
The falcon from his hand!
It seemed 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 fallen, and the flower must die.
Are warned by a meteor’s light,
Or a pale bird, flitting, calls them home,
Or a voice on the winds by night;
And they must go! And he too, he!
Woe for the fall of the glorious tree!