238
THE FOREST.
For hark! hark! from its farthest bound,
A sharp, quick blow is heard!
And the mighty forest, at the sound,
Is with strong anger stirred.
But still the sound recurs, and then
A sudden crash succeeds,
With echoing shouts of hardy men,
The doers of evil deeds.
A sharp, quick blow is heard!
And the mighty forest, at the sound,
Is with strong anger stirred.
But still the sound recurs, and then
A sudden crash succeeds,
With echoing shouts of hardy men,
The doers of evil deeds.
The sentence is read—let the forest grieve,
For the axe strikes at its root;
It is idle to cherish hope of reprieve,
For the trees bear golden fruit;
And one by one, they must pass away,
And let in the sun's warm rays,
Like a strong race smitten by decay,
In the noontide of their days.
For the axe strikes at its root;
It is idle to cherish hope of reprieve,
For the trees bear golden fruit;
And one by one, they must pass away,
And let in the sun's warm rays,
Like a strong race smitten by decay,
In the noontide of their days.
They must fall—but nobly will they fall,
Like warriors in their pride;
Each stately trunk attests to all,
How fearlessly it died!
They must fall! but their foes will cry aloud,
And no bootless warrior sing
Like the high Hungarian chief, who vowed
His corse worth the plundering.
Like warriors in their pride;
Each stately trunk attests to all,
How fearlessly it died!
They must fall! but their foes will cry aloud,
And no bootless warrior sing
Like the high Hungarian chief, who vowed
His corse worth the plundering.
O stately forest! much of gold
Is locked in thy bosom fast;
Though richer than Persian kings of old,
It will all be seized at last.
Is locked in thy bosom fast;
Though richer than Persian kings of old,
It will all be seized at last.
