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diff --git a/75378-0.txt b/75378-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..90ca2ea --- /dev/null +++ b/75378-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,2466 @@ + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75378 *** + + + + + + NEEDWOOD FOREST. + + + LICHFIELD: + + PRINTED BY JOHN JACKSON, M.DCC.LXXVI. + + + + + NEEDWOOD FOREST. + + + PART, I. + + _Needwood!_ if e’er my early voice + Hath taught thy echoes to rejoice; + If e’er my hounds in opening cry + Have fill’d thy banks with ecstacy; + If e’er array’d in cheerful green + Our train hath deck’d thy wintry scene; + Ere yet thy wood-wild walks I leave, + My tributary verse receive: + With thy own wreath my brows adorn, + And to thy praises tune my horn! + + What green-rob’d Nymph, all loose her hair, + With buskin’d leg, and bosom bare, + Steps lightly down the turfy glades, + And beckons tow’rd yon opening shades?— + No harlot-form, dissembling guile + With wanton air and painted smile, + Lures to enchanted halls or bowers, + Where festive Vice consumes his hours. + Her mild and modest looks dispense + The simple charm of innocence: + And a sweet wildness in her eye + Sparkles with young sincerity.— + Lead on, fair guide, ere wakes the dawn, + With thee I’ll climb the steepy lawn, + With thee the leafy labyrinths trace, + Where dwells the Genius of the place.— + His large limbs press a prim-rose bed, + A moss-grown root sustains his head, + And, list’ning to a Druid’s rhimes, + He bends his eye on distant times: + While troops of sylvan Vassals meet + To cast their garlands at his feet, + And pipe and frisk in rings about, + Or parly with the Hunter’s shout. + And now a fragrant show’r he throws + Of blossoms from his curled brows, + And rising waves his oaken wand, + And bids yon magic scenes expand!— + + First blush the hills with orient light, + And pierce the sable veil of night, + Green bends the waving shade above, + And glist’ring dew-drops gem the grove: + Next shine the shelving lawns around, + Bright threads of silver net the ground; + And down, the entangled brakes among, + The white rill sparkling winds along: + Then, as the pausing zephyrs breathe, + The billowy mist recedes beneath; + Slow, as it rolls away, unfold + The vale’s fresh glories green and gold; + DOVE[1] laughs, and shakes his tresses bright, + And trails afar a line of light. + + Now glows the illumin’d landscape round! + Ye Vulgar hence!—’tis sacred ground! + Hence to the flimsy walks of art, + That lull, but not transport the heart. + Nature, O Muse, here sits alone, + And marks these regions for thy own; + Here her variety of joys + Nor season bounds, nor change destroys: + Be mine the pride, tho’ weak my strains, + That first I woo’d thee to these plains; + Where Spring, in all her beauty drest, + But promises a brighter guest: + Where Summer yields her greens and flowers + To Autumn’s variegated bowers: + Smiles Winter, as their honours fall, + And bids his hollies shame them all.[2] + + Ye sage Professors of design, + Whom system’s stubborn rules confine, + Can science here one blemish show? + Or one deficient grace bestow? + EMES,[3] who yon desart wild explor’d, + And to it’s name the scene restor’d; + Whose art is nature’s law maintain’d, + Whose order negligence restrain’d, + Here, fir’d by native beauty, trac’d + The foot-steps of the Goddess, Taste: + Won from her coy retreats she came, + And led him up these paths to fame. + + Here ev’ry flower improves the gale + From the meek violet of the vale + To her, who flaunts in air sublime, + The woodbine, queen of summer’s prime: + While each delicious shade may vie + With those of boasted Arcady. + There sweet varieties appear + Of thickets, shap’d by nibbling Deer, + Of hills, that swell with gradual ease, + Wood-skirted lawns, and scatter’d trees; + Of vallies seen down distant glades, + That break the mass of mingling shades; + While nature’s attribute, extent, + Crowns each inferior ornament!— + + On this green unambitious brow, + Fair Mistress of the vale below, + With sloping hills enclos’d around, + Their heads with oaks and hollies crown’d, + With lucky choice, by happy hands, + Plac’d in good hour, my dwelling stands; + And draws the distant trav’ler’s eye, + Enamour’d of it’s scenery; + Where all things give, what all express, + Content and rural happiness. + Where far retir’d from life’s dull form + Comes no intruder but the storm; + The storm, that with contrasted low’r + Endears the fair the silent hour. + + Thus their wise days our fathers led, + Fleet ran their hounds, their arrows sped, + And jocund Health with rosy smile + Look’d on, companion of their toil: + Till tyrant Law usurp’d the land, + Stretch’d o’er the woods his iron hand, + Forbad the echoing horn to blow, + Maim’d the staunch hound, and snapp’d the bow.[4] + + Here with fair peace and modest fame[5] + They dwelt, who boasted Bagot’s name,— + Go, BAGOT, plead your country’s cause, + While senates listen with applause, + With fearless truth and manly sense + Detecting specious eloquence: + Great talents to the world are due, + Retirement were a crime in you. + Go, and receive your oaken crown! + Here, with no title to renown, + Leave me to loiter at my door + Beneath the spreading sycamore, + That canopies the sloping lawn; + And view the deer at early dawn + In troops come winding down the hill + To taste fresh herbage near the rill; + Or count at noon their slumb’ring heaps; + At evening watch their playful leaps; + Or hear the quiring of the grove + Give breath to harmony and love; + Or listen to the hum profound, + In the still air that floats around; + Or mark yon hills extended side, + Where turf and shade the space divide;— + Here the wood straggles tow’rd the plain, + The pasture there prevails again; + The heifer grazes on it’s brow, + Clamours the rook on trees below; + Gay golden furze and purple ling + Around their mixt embroidery fling, + O’er all, irregularly join’d, + Th’ according outline waves behind. + + No dusky Cares o’er-hang the bower, + No Passions wreck the halcyon hour; + Nurs’d in the shade Reflection springs, + Smooths her white plumes, and tries her wings. + No leaf of autumn falls in vain; + No flower-bell droops beneath the rain, + No bubble down the current flows, + But life’s uncertain tenure shows. + Those thorns protect the forest’s hopes; + That tree the slender ivy props: + Thus rise the mighty on the mean! + Thus on the strong the feeble lean! + In yonder holly—blush mankind!— + A rare fidelity I find; + Like yours tho’ summer’s flatteries end, + My winter here hath found a friend.— + Hail faithful fav’rite tree! to you + The Muse shall pay observance due: + Whether in horrent files you stand + Round sapling oaks a guardian band; + Or form aloft a shelt’ring bower + Impervious to the sun or shower; + Whether to yon hill-side you throng + Ranging in various groups along; + Or on the plain, maturely grown, + You boldly brave the storm alone, + Or tapering high, with woodbines hid, + Rise in a fragrant pyramid; + Your vigorous youth with upright shoots, + Your verdant age, your glowing fruits, + Your glossy leaves, and columns gray + Shall live the favorites of my lay! + + Alas! in vain with warmth and food + You cheer the songsters of the wood, + The barbarous boy from you prepares + On treacherous twigs his viscous snares. + Yes, the poor bird, you nurs’d, shall find + Destruction in your rifled rind. + Thus good and ill too often meet, + And bitter mingles with the sweet! + —Ye pedagogues! let truant youth + Imbibe from you this gen’rous truth; + That one humane, one tender thought + Is worth the whole, that schools have taught. + + + PART, II. + + With what fond gaze my eye pursues, + _NEEDWOOD_, thy sweetly-varying views! + Satyr, or Nymph, or sylvan God + A fairer circuit never trod! + Charm’d, as I turn, thy pictures seem + The golden fabricks of a dream. + Where Fiction stands with prism bright, + Rays forth her many-colour’d light, + Dyes the green herb, and purple flower, + Gives glittering lustres to the shower; + Then gilds with livelier tints the sky, + Or bends her radiant bow on high. + + To scenes so elegantly wild + Fancy, of old, her darling child + From AVON’S flowery margin brought, + And ARDEN boasts what NEEDWOOD taught.[6] + + Such shades by mazy paths perplex’d, + Where strays the traveller inly vex’d, + Inspir’d the Muse of SPENCER’S pen; + The _wandering wood_, and _Errors den_,[7] + Dwarfs, Palfreys, Dames, and Giants rise + Full on Imaginations eyes! + See, See the Sarazin advance! + The red-cross Knight hath couch’d his lance! + They meet, the Christian wins the field, + And bears away the _faithless_ shield![8] + + With such companions fond to rove, + I venerate each hill and grove, + To Phœbus as to Dian dear, + And find a new Parnassus here. + Here might the sacred sisters dwell + By pebbly brook, or gushing well: + O let me listen, as they sing, + In some close vale beside a spring, + Whose stream the intruding alder chides, + Where the wild-bee her treasure hides!— + Or sit in high imbowering shade + With Contemplation, heav’n-ey’d maid, + Where the scant sun through branches thin + Chequers the dark green floor within; + Where ev’ry leaf is wisdom’s page, + And each gray trunk a hoary sage. + Nor motion, human form, or noise + This solemn pause of life destroys; + Save where the playful squirrel bounds, + Or ring-dove pours her plaintive sounds, + Or lurking peasant lops an oak + Restraining half his pilfering stroke, + Or with his faggot stoops to rest + Both by his years and burthen prest. + + Here, seen of old, the elfin race + With sprightly vigils mark’d the place; + Their gay processions charm’d the sight, + Gilding the lucid noon of night; + Or, when obscure the midnight hour, + With glow-worm lantherns hung the bower. + —Hark!—the soft lute! along the green + Moves with majestic step the queen! + Attendant Fays around her throng, + And trace the dance or raise the song; + Or touch the shrill reed, as they trip, + With finger light and ruby lip. + + High, on her brow sublime, is born + One scarlet wood-bine’s tremulous horn; + A gaudy bee-bird’s triple plume[9] + Sheds on her neck its waving gloom; + With silvery gossamer entwin’d + Stream the luxuriant locks behind. + Thin folds of tangled network break + In airy waves adown her neck: + Warp’d in his loom, the spider spread + The far-diverging rays of thread, + Then round and round with shuttle fine + Inwrought the undulating line. + One rose-leaf forms her crimson vest, + The loose edge crosses o’er her breast. + And one translucent fold, which fell + From the tall lily’s ample bell, + Forms with sweet grace her snowy train, + Flows, as she steps, and sweeps the plain. + Silence and Night inchanted gaze, + And Hesper hides his vanquish’d rays!— + + Now the wak’d reed-birds swell their throats, + And night-larks trill their mingled notes: + Yet hush’d in moss with writhed neck + The black-bird hides his golden beak; + Charm’d from his dream of love, he wakes, + Opes his gay eye, his plumage shakes, + And stretching wide each ebon wing, + First in low whispers tries to sing; + Then sounds his clarion loud, and thrills + The moon-bright lawns, and shadowy hills. + Silent the choral Fays attend, + And then their silver voices blend, + Each shining thread of sound prolong, + And weave the magic woof of song. + Pleas’d Philomela takes her stand + On high, and leads the fairy band, + Pours sweet at intervals her strain, + And guides with beating wing the train. + Whilst interrupted zephyrs bear + Hoarse murmurs from the distant wear; + And at each pause is heard the swell + Of Echo’s soft symphonius shell. + + Nor the dread night my mind alarms,— + NIGHT, and her horrors have their charms. + O’er the wide forest oft I roam, + What time the trav’ler, far from home, + Bewilder’d in the pathless brakes, + There his cold bed despairing makes; + And hear the fox with savage bark + Pay distant courtship through the dark; + The owl with fault’ring voice unfold + Her tale, like one who shakes with cold: + And then the alarmed woods resound + Th’ upbraidings of the well-train’d hound, + Who with tremendous tongue arraigns + And haunts the plunderer of his plains. + So cries from earth the life-blood spilt, + So waking furies harrass guilt! + + Oft have I through this solemn glade + Of old dismember’d hollies stray’d, + Whose bold bare rugged brows are seen + Thrust through the mantling ever-green; + Tall clustring columns here ascend, + And there in gothic arches bend;[10] + Whilst, as the silver moon-beams rise, + Imagin’d temples strike my eyes, + With tottering spire, and mouldering wall, + And high roof nodding to its fall.— + His lantern gleaming down the glade, + One, like a sexton with his spade,[11] + Comes from their caverns to exclude + The mid-night prowlers of the wood.— + Through fields of air while pausing slow, + Yon death-bell tells the village woe! + + Born on her clouds when Darkness flings + O’er the still air her raven wings, + Ere yet the watery freight descends, + While Heaven it’s purposes suspends, + NIGHT, let me stand in silent trance, + And watch the lightning’s kindling glance: + While, stiff’ning at the imagin’d stroke, + Appears behind a brighten’d oak, + From justice fled to this wild place, + A conscious robber’s gastly face!— + Or fancy views with fear-fix’d eye + A mangled spectre gliding by, + Quick with the flash who seems to wave + His pale hand, beck’ning to a grave!— + And, as the fleeting vision dies, + Loud thunders shake the closing skies. + + NIGHT, when rude blasts thy scenes deform, + O place me in the perilous storm! + While the moon labouring thro’ the clouds + By turns her light reveals and shrouds; + Torn from it’s trunk, when whirlwinds bear + The twisted ash aloft in air: + And some vast elm’s uprooted spoil + Ploughs in its headlong fall the soil. + While, as he stalks thro’ groaning oaks, + At intervals the old deer croaks: + And the lean sow with paps drawn dry + O’er rustling leaves trots whining by.— + + Then posts across the blasted plain, + Born on the wild storm, Witchcraft’s train, + Aghast with guilt, and shrunk with age, + And yelling with demoniack rage!— + With eyes turn’d back malign and wide + See blood-stain’d Murder silent stride, + A moon-beam’s sudden light expands, + He starts, and hides his crimson hands!— + And now the cauldron gleams afar, + Fir’d by a baneful meteor’s glare, + Around they dance, they pause, and pour + The mischiefs of the midnight hour; + While trembling fiends with wonder gaze, + Stretch their black wings, and fan the blaze! + + + PART, III. + + Ere Night withdraws her starry train, + I print long traces o’er the plain, + And bend my eyes to yon bright east + To meet the Morning’s radiant guest, + As o’er the hill his golden rays + Burst thro’ the thicket in a blaze. + Now from my foot the startled fawn + Bounds to its parent on the lawn; + And the wak’d lark exulting springs, + Hangs high in air on quivering wings, + Chaunts his loud transports o’er the heath, + And eyes his list’ning loves beneath. + + Oft shall my TALBOT hither stray, + And friendship give new joys to day; + On him his blooming bride attend, + Hither her graceful footsteps bend, + Fresh life her brighter beauties fling + O’er the young dawn, and blossom’d spring. + + They come! their eddying wheels resound, + The harness’d coursers proudly bound, + The light-hung chariot floats in air, + And laughing Hymen wreaths the pair! + As o’er the daisy’d lawns they move + By glittering rill or dusky grove, + Old NEEDWOOD calls his softest gale, + Bids all his fragrant buds exhale: + His gazing herds around them throng, + His plighted birds suspend their song, + Each on her urn his Naiads lean, + And Wood-nymphs peep from allies green. + + Where this gay mount o’er-looks the wood,[12] + Charm’d with the scene a monarch stood, + Call’d these fair plains the richest gem, + That deck’d his triple diadem, + Awhile the cares of state forgot, + And with it’s name adorn’d the spot. + + Down yon meridian fields afar + When Mercia led her chiefs to war, + Fell in one hour three monarchs brave, + And LICHFIELD’S bower protects their grave.[13] + Her stately spires amidst the skies + Ting’d by the orient sun arise, + With golden vanes invite the gale.— + Triumphant ladies of the vale! + + Down yon mid-vale the british Nile,[14] + Fair DOVE, comes winding many a mile; + And from his copious urn distils + The fatness of a thousand hills. + Swell, generous river, leave thy banks, + The thirsty soil shall give thee thanks!— + The generous river swells, and leads + His waters o’er impoverish’d meads, + And lays his ample treasure down, + Rich emblem of thy bounty, BROWN![15] + + Pleas’d on yon high abode I gaze, + Whence C’ANDISH foaming Dove surveys:[16] + And where those humbler vales extend + Of thine, FITZHERBERT, chearful friend.[17] + Or mark upon yon round ascent + The social flag and open tent,[18] + Where life’s smooth paths with sweets are strown, + And mirth makes every hour it’s own. + + Where spreads this grove it’s umbrage wide + Late the bold Outlaw fought and died.[19] + Oft in it’s dark recess the oak + Had fall’n beneath his secret stroke, + Full many a deer the night’s dim ray + Beheld his silent arrow slay, + Deep furze conceal’d the fawns in vain, + And lust of lucre thinn’d the plain. + Here, by no power before controll’d, + He met a forester as bold; + O’er the fierce conflict frown’d the wood, + And drank with thirsty roots his blood. + + Yon bank demands a pitying look, + Where life a gentler breast forsook;[20] + Sole comfort of an aged pair! + The true-love of a damsel fair!— + At prime of dawn he stepp’d away; + Long was the journey, short the day; + The wint’ry blast blew loud and chill; + Night caught him on the unshelter’d hill; + Fatigu’d he fell; no help came nigh; + His faithful dog alone was by; + Who, as he fondly lick’d his cheek, + Heard his expiring master speak. + “Heap not for me thy cottage-fire; + “Cold grows my heart, unhappy sire! + “But turn to my unfinish’d loom, + “And weave the web, and bear it home! + “Prepare not, dame, my evening meal; + “But bid them ring my passing peal! + “Deck not thyself, dear maid, to meet + “Thy love; but bring his winding sheet! + “I come not to your festive cheer; + “Ye comrades, place me on my bier!—” + —The morrow found him stiff and pale: + Mournful the Muse recounts his tale. + + Her stately tower there HANBURY rears, + Which proudly looks o’er distant shires; + Down the chill slope and darken’d glade + Projects afar it’s length of shade; + Assails the skies with giant force, + And checks the whirlwind in it’s course; + Or, when black clouds involve the pole, + Disarms the thunders, as they roll!— + Beneath how Nature throws around + Grand inequalities of ground, + While down the dells and o’er the steeps + The wavy line of Paphos creeps!— + + With awful sorrow I behold + Yon cliff, that frowns with ruins old;[21] + Stout FERRERS there kept faithless ward,[22] + And GAUNT perform’d his Castle-guard.[23] + There captive MARY look’d in vain[24] + For NORFOLK, and her nuptial train; + Enrich’d with royal tears the Dove, + But sigh’d for freedom, not from love. + ’Twas once the seat of festive state, + Where high born dames and nobles sat; + While minstrels, each in order heard,[25] + Their venerable songs preferr’d. + False memory of it’s state remains + In the rude sport of brutal swains.[26] + Now serpents hiss, and foxes dwell + Amidst the mould’ring citadel; + And time but spares those broken towers + In mockery of human powers. + + Yon hill, that glows with southern rays,[27] + All-conscious of superior praise, + Swells her smooth top and pastures green, + And of her sisters seems the queen; + Proud from her ancient seats to trace + The lineage of a generous race. + “That generous race,” fair SUDBURY cries, + “Is mine,” and bids her turrets rise, + Lifts from the lap of peace her dome, + Where finds Munificence a home; + Then wide her shining lake she leads + Through blossom’d groves and emerald meads, + Cloaths with dark woods the distant scene, + And pours her dappled herds between. + —Ah me! what sudden sadness lowers + O’er her fair front and vernal bowers! + There sinks to her untimely tomb + A virgin flower in beauty’s bloom! + O thou wast all that youth admires, + A parent loves, or friend desires! + I knew thee well! my sorrowing heart + Bears in thy loss a bitter part!— + Whilst the sad Muse in plaintive verse + Strews all her flowers around thy hearse, + Let Pity quit thy grave, and go + A mourner to yon house of woe. + There from thy father’s bosom break + Sighs, which too eloquently speak: + Thy mother weeps, but weeps resign’d, + In all things noble, most in mind: + Pale griefs thy sisters’ cheeks invade; + And one, alas, too tender maid! + Holds a long melancholy strife + Betwixt her sorrows and her life: + Thy manly brothers strive to cure + In vain, the pangs themselves endure. + Fair Saint! a happier lot is thine + Repos’d beneath the silent shrine! + + Now let me seek in pensive mood + The rude recesses of the wood; + And, where congenial gloom extends, + Think of lost hopes and distant friends; + Of scenes, whose pleasures fled too fast, + And hours most valued now they’re past! + + Beside me lies a dingle deep,[28] + With shaggy banks abrupt and steep; + Through vistas wild my course I bend, + Till day-light opens at the end: + Where from intoxicating height + Bursts the wide prospect on my sight. + The terrace bold, on which I stand, + Steps broad and forward on the land; + Rude hills compose the side-long scene, + With crofts and cottages between: + The various landscape onward spreads + O’er cultur’d plains and verdant meads; + And seats, and towns, and hamlets rise, + Where yon smoke curls into the skies, + And spires, that pierce thro’ tufted trees; + Till, faintly fading by degrees, + Beyond, in wild confusion tost, + The hills blue tops in clouds are lost. + + Yes, EATON-BANKS, in vain I strive[29] + To hide the grief your oaks revive.— + Bow thy tall branches, grateful wood! + Afford me blossom, leaf, and bud! + He, for whose memory these I blend, + Thy late-lost master, was my friend!— + Fall, gentle dews! fresh zephyrs, breathe! + Spread, cooling shades! preserve my wreath!— + Alas, it withers ere its time!— + So faded he in manly prime!— + But Virtue, scorning friendship’s aid, + Rears her own palms, which never fade! + + + PART, IV. + + Henry, O leave, whilst youth is ours,[30] + And health leads on the fleeting hours, + O leave awhile the court you grace, + And urge with me the sylvan chase! + + Oft, as I bathe in morning’s breath, + Ere wakes the plover on the heath, + Ere the sun robs the woodbine’s smell, + Or dries the fox-glove’s purple bell, + I hear the deep-mouth’d thunder rise; + The monarch of the woodland flies, + Whilst the loud triumphs of the horn + On breezy wings are backward born.[31] + His subject mates no succour lend; + What tyrant ever found a friend? + He dies!—the satiate echoes cease; + The forest reassumes its peace. + + Now sun-burnt Autumn with his spoils + Diana’s bleeding altar piles: + Again the slaughtering gun is heard, + And wildly screams the parent bird; + All night she mourns her lessen’d brood, + Still views them fluttering in their blood, + With timorous call the rest collects, + And with quick wing their flight directs. + Now the strong buck his rival drives, + And awes with jealous threats his wives: + Slow move the kine to fresher fields; + The hawthorn to the holly yields: + No twittering swallow skims the plain, + No shrite-cock tunes his echoing strain:[32] + Dumb are the full-plum’d songsters all, + Save the lone red-breast on my wall; + Thy tender lay, sweet bird, prolong, + And sooth old Winter with thy song! + + When wintry mists obscure the skies, + His busy nose the spaniel plies, + Where mossy glades and thickets brown + Tempt the far-wandering wood-cock down: + Stretch thy strong wing, thy flight retake, + Nor trust the inhospitable brake!— + Ah, forc’d from the luxuriant ground, + He mounts, and feels the sudden wound. + So transmeridian Zealand views + Adventurous Europe’s wandering crews: + Fierce hunger eyes the stranger-guest, + And fraud secures the barbarous feast; + Stain’d are the rocks with human gore, + And white with scatter’d bones the shore. + + The leveret—but I spare the rest, + I see compassion touch thy breast— + Come then, and whilst the murderous crew + In harmless blood their hands imbrue, + Rous’d to revenge by ravag’d flocks, + Haste we to find the kennell’d fox. + Hark! those preluding cries he hears; + Thick beats his heart with conscious fears. + Some tyrant thus, in luckless hour + Whom fraud or force has rais’d to pow’r, + With throbbing heart and pale eye stands, + And spreads to heaven his harpy hands, + When Freedom’s voice alarms the morn, + And Vengeance winds her echoing horn. + See, with the wind he scours away + Sleek, and in crimes grown old and gray! + Oft has he foil’d our angry pack, + I know his customary track. + Talk not of pity to such foes! + Stern justice claims the life he owes. + No storms arise to screen his flight; + ’Tis long till interrupting night; + The breathing South his sentence gives, + And not an hour the caitiff lives! + Through woods, and hills, and vales, and brakes, + NEEDWOOD with general transport shakes. + Mark how the pack diffusely spread, + And shew me, if you can, their head! + ’Tis here—’tis there—now onward far + Streams down the vales irregular. + As through the furzy brakes they drive + The trembling coverts seem alive. + Thus by the winds o’er bending corn + Loose waves of light and shade are born. + Now winding up yon steep they strain; + Now wheel in silence on the plain: + Again they catch the tainted wind; + No hound disgraceful lurks behind: + All striving with confederate aim, + Their size, their power, their speed the same, + With eager eye and clamorous tongue + In broad career they press along, + Fierce on their victim gathering round— + —He suffers by no single wound! + Thus o’er the azure fields of night + Shoot the quick rays of northern light, + To one bright point converg’d they flow, + And round the silver zenith glow. + So, when a lake surcharg’d by rain + Bursts, and o’erwhelms the sloping plain, + The wond’ring rustic flies, nor knows + Which of its currents fastest flows; + Now here the rattling eddies lead, + Now there they foam along the mead, + Till in a silent pool they stand, + Collected on the hollow land. + + Go languid fops, go pedants, waste + Your sneers on joys you cannot taste; + And cloak with many a vain pretence + Cold-blooded fear and indolence! + + Warm to each elegant delight, + Ingenious, sensible, polite, + Known to the world you know so well, + Lov’d e’en by those whom you excel, + MEYNELL, my leader and my friend, + Stand forth! the manly chase defend! + O raise your animating voice, + And cheer the Dian of your choice! + Not her, whose foul Circean draft + ’Squires of preceding ages quaff’d, + Unletter’d reveller, whose joys + Were rudeness, turbulence, and noise, + But her, no less of British kind, + Well-bred, intelligent, refin’d, + Of younger years and purer mold, + Chaste as the Huntress Queen of old. + + Yes, I am thine, enchanting maid! + Come, in thy decent robes array’d! + O bring thy blithe companion, Health, + Who smiles, and mocks the sluggard Wealth; + And Hope, who spleen and care destroys; + And Rapture scorning tamer joys; + Young Eagerness with kindling eyes; + And Triumph mingling jocund cries! + + Come, as thy cheerful train is seen, + Where FOREMARKE waves his woodlands green; + When hears his vale thy matin song, + And TRENT exulting shouts along: + While wait, thy gay return to greet, + Convivial Mirth and Welcome sweet.— + On me, thy humbler votary, shower + The balmy dews of every flower, + Which oft thy curious hand has twin’d + Thy BURDETT’S favour’d brows to bind! + + + 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 + Huge SWILCAR shakes his tresses brown,[34] + 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 + “Accursed JULIUS, bids you strike.[35] + “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._ + + + + + ADDRESS + TO + SWILCAR OAK, + DESCRIBED + IN MR. MUNDY’S POEM + ON + NEEDWOOD FOREST, + + + Hail, stately oak, whose wrinkled trunk hath stood + Age after age, the sov’reign of this wood; + You, who have seen a thousand springs unfold + Their ravell’d buds, and dip their flowers in gold; + Ten thousand times yon moon relight her horn, + And that bright eye of evening gild the morn. + + Say, when of old the snow-hair’d druids pray’d + With mad-ey’d rapture in your hallow’d shade, + While to their altars bards and heroes throng, + And crouding nations join the ecstatick song; + Did e’er such dulcet notes arrest your gales, + As MUNDY pours along the list’ning vales? + + Yes, stately oak, thy leaf-wrapp’d head sublime + Erelong must perish in the wrecks of time; + Shou’d o’er thy brow the thunders harmless break, + And thy firm roots in vain the whirlwinds shake, + Yet must thou fall,—thy withering glories sunk, + Arm after arm shall leave the mould’ring trunk! + + But MUNDY’S verse shall consecrate thy name, + And rising forests envy SWILCAR’S fame: + Green shall thy gems expand, thy branches play, + And bloom for ever in the immortal lay. + + E. D. + + + + + A + RURAL CORONATION, + Inscribed to Mr. MUNDY, + On reading his POEM + ON + NEEDWOOD FOREST. + + + Haste from your dells, your woods, and lawns, + Nymphs, Naiads, Satyrs, Fays, and Fauns, + Haste! hither bring your flowers and boughs, + And weave a wreath for MUNDY’S brows! + + First twigs of oak from SWILCAR rend, + And round his auburn temples bend; + Then tye the ends, that twisting meet, + With tendrils from the wood-bine sweet: + With laurel-blossoms next be spread + Pale ivy crosswise o’er his head; + These holly sprigs insert between, + —The berries blush amid the green— + While hare-bells blue, and lilies fair, + Mix’d with the wild-rose, deck his hair. + + Now with fantastick step advance, + And hand in hand around him dance; + To oaten pipe attune his lays, + And hail the bard, who sings your praise. + “While the gay choirings of the grove + “Give breath to harmony and love, + “And golden furze and purple ling + “Around their mix’d embroidery fling, + “And, all irregularly join’d, + “Th’ according outline waves behind.” + + A. S. + + + + + SONNET. + + + Mundy, whose song hath taught the forest swain + To view fair NEEDWOOD thro’ the radiance clear + Of bright imagination, taught the tear + To glisten in his eye for other’s pain, + And own that taste and virtue are not vain, + How was thy pipe melodious wont to cheer + The wintry groves, when every leaf was sear, + And brighten summer with its artful strain!— + Say, by what meed shall NEEDWOOD court thy stay? + She unsuspecting twines in amorous care + Her favorite holly and her flower-bells gay, + To deck with modest hand her lover’s hair,— + Ah, do not thou her gentle hope betray, + And doom her tender bosom to despair! + + B. B. + + + + + _On_ Mr. MUNDY’s _Needwood Forest_. + + + Where NEEDWOOD’S banks embroidered smile + On bright-hair’d Dove, the british Nile, + Pleas’d MUNDY fix’d his easel strong, + And stretch’d his canvass wide and long; + Broad o’er his hand the pallet lies + With pencils for a thousand dyes. + He look’d, and drew, and look’d again,— + —Enamour’d Fancy snatch’d the pen, + Nymphs, Graces, Loves around him throng, + With all the sisterhood of song: + Bright tints by fairy hands were mix’d. + And Witchcraft etch’d the shades betwixt. + + Delighted Flora smil’d and drew + The primrose pale, and violet blue. + A Naiad spreads the flake of snow,—[38] + White foams the glittering stream below. + “Give me the pallet,” Love demands, + And stretching forth his baby hands + Dip’d with nice touch his keenest shaft + In all the blushing lakes, and laugh’d;[39] + With sweetest grace the pencil flow’d, + With softest tints the canvass glow’d; + “I’ll draw Mamma,” the Wanton cries, + And TALBOT’S features charm our eyes! + With airy ease the white neck bends, + Lock after lock the hair descends: + O’er the fair form the Graces spread + Their vest, and Hymen wreaths the head. + + And then Thalia, muse of woe, + Moves o’er the woof her crayon slow. + Here, cold, bewilder’d, tir’d, forlorn, + The Traveller sighs in vain for morn; + Stretch’d on the imprinted snow he lies, + And bends on heaven his stiffening eyes. + There Friendship sits the shade beneath, + And twines for CLARKE a fadeless wreath; + Fresh cypress with the flowers she weaves, + And many a tear-drop gems the leaves. + Next o’er the lawn a virgin throng + In sad procession moves along, + Lorn Loves inverted torches bear, + And Pity weeps o’er VERNON’S bier. + + To shade the distant ground, and lay + The rising group in bolder day, + A Dryad chalks some dusky strokes,— + Behind umbrageous frown her oaks! + And SWILCAR, rent by many a storm, + Rears high in air his leafless form. + + Pleas’d MUNDY stood with eager eyes, + And watch’d the living figures rise; + Smil’d as the varying colours flow’d, + And sigh’d by turns, and chill’d, and glow’d: + And to the admiring world has shewn + The immortal tablet for his own. + + E. D. Jun. + +[Illustration: [Fleuron]] + + + + + THE + FALL + OF + NEEDWOOD. + + + =Derby:= + + PRINTED AT THE OFFICE OF J. DREWRY. + +[Illustration] + + 1808. + + + + + THE FALL OF NEEDWOOD. + + + Ah, Needwood! I, whose early voice + Taught thy shrill echoes to rejoice; + I, who first pour’d the sylvan song + Thy glades, thy banks, thy lawns along; + I, who with artless pencil drew + Thy Forest charms of varied hue, + Approach thee now with different strain, + That mourns thy wrongs, yet mourns in vain: + I come, but not with former haste, + To view the dim unshelter’d Waste, + That once was Needwood: on thy brow + No green-rob’d Wood-nymph beckons now: + Yet be thy Spirit sooth’d to bear + My Requiem through the void of air! + + O Draycot Cliff! again thy height, + Known beacon of my young delight, + With sad’ning thoughts, that much portend + Of change and tumult, I ascend; + Nor flatter’d by thy levell’d way, + That smiles, like worldlings, to betray. + How swells my aged heart, now near + Scenes to my happiest youth so dear! + How sinks that heart, as these arise + Distorted, to my anguish’d eyes! + Where are those ample plains, display’d + ’Mong woods with many an opening glade? + Where is the wild doe bounding by, + Once emblem of their liberty? + No stragglers from the warren fleet + Scud cross my path with flirting feet. + No jealous blood-hound, brave and proud, + Throws from the lodge his challenge loud. + + O hear me on thy summits tall, + Time-honour’d Needwood! hear my call! + For thou my filial voice hast known.— + No answer follows—hark! a groan! + His ancient seats I seek in vain; + He, nor his ancient seats remain; + But in strange horror staring round, + A Spectre, pointing to his wound, + Of hideous shape, with bald head, stalks + Before me o’er the ravag’d walks; + Where Desolation grim affrights[40] + Sham’d Ceres in unhallow’d rites; + Where the check’d Plunderer shrinks aside, + As by his own deed terrified, + Or fears, from many a faithful root, + Vengeance in ambush at his foot. + + Wavering alike in mind and pace, + I roam, familiar haunts to trace; + The winds, that bow me as I go, + Rush unrestrain’d, as wild with woe, + Or querulously vex’d to miss + The blooming groves they lov’d to kiss. + Each spot discover’d has its tale; + Seems a friend’s voice in every gale; + Wak’d Recollection starts aghast, + And thoughtful sighs o’er pleasures past. + + When Nature, with exulting smile, + Form’d from her stores this happy Isle, + Curious, and bounteously intent + To raise a central ornament, + She cull’d the brightest and the best; + And heap’d them on her darling’s breast: + Sprung joyful to her warm embrace + Th’ appointed Genius of the Place; + His features fair young Beauty drew; + On her soft lap the fondling grew. + The Seasons came his birth to greet, + And pour’d their choicest at his feet; + The Dryads quaintly curl’d his locks; + Nymphs, Fauns, and Satyrs rush’d in flocks, + Pleas’d in such Fairy-land to dwell, + And peopled every bower and dell. + Kings mark’d the consecrated ground; + And Power protective watch’d around. + Long Mercia sat beside enthron’d;[41] + And prouder crowns its honours own’d.[42] + Delighted Ages list’ning heard + The wild hoof beat the tainted swerd, + The glad’ning hound and echoing horn, + And hunters’ shouts far onward born. + How did his dignity excel! + Blush, blush ye Times when Needwood fell! + + ’Twas Avarice with his harpy claws, + Great Victim! rent thy guardian laws; + Loos’d Uproar with his ruffian bands;[43] + Bade Havoc show his crimson’d hands; + Grinn’d a coarse smile, as thy last deer + Dropp’d in thy lap a dying tear; + Exulted in his schemes accurst, + When thy pierc’d heart, abandon’d, burst; + And, glozing on the public good, + Insidious demon! suck’d thy blood. + Detested ever be that day, + Which left thee a defenceless prey! + May never sun its presence cheer! + O be it blotted from the year! + + Where now the Forest-freeman’s boast? + His joys, his hopes, his name are lost. + Repentant claimants of the soil![44] } + Your’s keen remorse and thankless toil; } + Strangers and hirelings snatch the spoil. } + Too late ye mourn your glory gone; + Too late the deed yourselves have done. + Thus, fell Owhyhee’s senseless crew, + Him, their best friend, their idol, slew; + Shar’d his torn limbs with savage pride; + Then griev’d, infatuate! that he died. + Ah, who but knows and loves the lay, + Which Seward hung on Cook’s Morai? + O had I such melodious tear, + Lamented Needwood, for thy bier! + + Forests of England! ye might claim + A proud share in her ancient fame. + Tell your forgetful country, tell, + When dangers dread her state befell, + How rush’d your sons in hardy bands, + Their long bows in their skilful hands; + How far the foremost and the best,[45] + On fierce invading foes they press’d; + With what sure aim their arrows flew, + Whistling the death song ere they slew. + You, in your secret labyrinths, spread[46] + Your dark shields o’er great Alfred’s head, + True to your charge. The ruthless Dane + Brandish’d his reeking blade in vain. + ’Twas your’s to nurse that mighty mind, + Where every Virtue sat enshrin’d. + Your hush’d leaves parted, as the beams[47] + Of glory shot, and fir’d his dreams. + You fann’d his patriot bosom’s glow; + You tun’d his harp; you trimm’d his bow.[48] + He imag’d in your wolves his foes; + And practis’d Vengeance keener rose. + Your proud oaks lean’d[49] to court the hand, + Which England’s conquering navy plann’d. + Your song-birds[50] taught him to convey + Mild manners in attractive lay; + While Liberty, the nymph you love,[51] + Braided the silken bands he wove. + On circled lawns, in secret glade, + You marshall’d thousands to his aid, + Then gave him from your woods to shine + A Cæsar and an Antonine. + There the bright wreaths of Victory grew; + And Themis pluck’d her wand from you. + Rouz’d vigorous by the morning air, + So quits the monarch stag his lair;[52] + With fresh fray’d beams his rival seeks;[53] + His meditated vengeance wreaks; + And, stamping on the mountain’s brow, + Claims homage from the vale below. + + On yonder castled cliff of old,[54] + Needwood, how throng’d thy archers bold, + When there, for deeds of arms array’d, + His banner princely Gaunt display’d! + And fill’d they not his chosen ranks[55] + On distant Ebro’s oliv’d banks? + Spain’s boasted slingers! soon ye fled[56] + From English bowmen, Forest-bred. + Fame stak’d her dearest honours there: + And won not Needwood’s sons their share? + + Illustrious History, bear me back + Up golden Time’s recorded track, + And bring from thy illumin’d page + The heroes of that martial age, + When knightly valour’s own right hand + Sought fame, and spoil, and high command! + Say, as they pass in bright review, + What favourite takes precedence due! + They come—the pride and pomp of war + Mark their disastrous course afar. + Ah, while the mad’ning trumpet brays, + Fields reek with blood and cities blaze; + Fell cries for glory or a crown + The skrieks of wives and orphans drown. + See English Richard’s crest advance!— + Back from the lightning of his lance! + Hark! nations hail in loud accord[57] + His lion heart and victor sword. + Cease, cease thy boasting, clarion vain! + Truth gives my lyre a purer strain. + Blush, as thy people, haughty king, + Shout for the man thy Minstrels bring,[58] + And offer, with less guilty claim, + A Forest Yeoman’s humble name! + How sweetly pours that bugle shrill + It’s mellow tones o’er dale and hill, + As Sherwood’s Hero, down the glade,[59] + Steps with his bow and bright brown blade,[60] + His feather’d arrows, broad and keen, + Hung lightly o’er his gown of green! + A robber! say’st thou? Thy harsh laws, + Oppressor, and the poor man’s cause + Led him, indignant, to the wood, + With bold pretence of rights withstood. + Churls, with no feeling but for self, + Yield to his better hands your pelf! + Such trespass Fear disdains to hide; + And hoodwink’d Justice peeps aside. + The liberal air his freeborn soul + Lifts high, in scorn of base controul. + In fellowship and fealty bound, + Firm as the knights of Table Round, + Him and his hundred, tall and fleet, + Not twice two hundred care to meet. + Minions, oppose not his career! + He seeks no slaughter, but of deer. + Yet will he pass unquestion’d by: + Raise but your weapons and ye die! + Start not fair maids! your path pursue + Unharm’d; he guards its peace for you; + And cheers, on each occasion kind, + In age or want, the hamlet hind. + Here, warriors, to the Forest turn, + True courage and its use to learn! + Here, nobles, to the wood resort, + For courtesy unknown at court!— + Needwood, this brave man was thy guest;[61] + Love crown’d the day, and Mirth the feast. + + Region, where all delights were found, + How look’st thou now? a burial ground! + With sad memorials, here and there, + Of what was noble, free, and fair. + King’s-standing, with a tortur’d frown,[62] + Marks its own splendour overthrown. + Whate’er of wood or lawn could please, + Whate’er of hills that rang’d with ease, + In grand assemblage broad display’d, + This far commanding mount survey’d. + How chang’d! those oaks, that tower’d so high, + Dismember’d, stript, extended, lie; + On the stain’d turf their wrecks are pil’d,[63] + Where thousand Summers bask’d and smil’d; + In smouldering heaps their limbs consume;[64] + The dark smoke marks their casual tomb; + From blacken’d brakes,[65] the choak’d winds toss + The ashes of the golden goss; + While great with power, yon Wretch[66] derides + And boasts the mischief, which he guides. + Thus, when, in unsuspecting peace, + Rush’d Scythia’s hordes on fertile Greece, + Mars, their grim god, whom heaven abhors, + Urg’d with fell taunts to wasteful wars. + Valley! where Marebrook, all unveil’d,[67] + Her slender line, far shining, trail’d, + With frequent curves thy slopes between, + As loth to quit the enticing scene; + Or turning with young fawns to play, + Wily and volatile as they; + Alluring, with her tinkling sweet, + From bank to bank their timid feet; + Lov’d Valley! now no charm invites + My steps to rove these injur’d heights; + Thy wavy knolls the fence arrests; + The rude spade wounds thy swelling breasts; + Rent her fair locks and mantle rich, + Forlorn along that hateful ditch + Thy violated Naiad steals, + And in foul streams her shame conceals. + + These broad roots bore a secret grove, + Where I was wont at eve to rove; + And, while low-thoughted cares retired, + Wrapp’d in fond musings, Fancy-fir’d, + Saw what alone the mind’s eye sees; + Heard other whisperings than the breeze; + And knights and dames, and dwarfs portray’d,[68] + And bright arms gleaming down the glade; + Drew Magic, muttering powerful spell; + And Witchcraft with demoniac yell. + Hark! the last trunk that axe assails; + See! the plough tears the writhing vales; + Stop, thoughtless clown! nor dare to bring + Destruction on that Fairy-Ring, + Imprinted deep with stainless green, + And lasting beauty, seldom seen. + E’en Winter paus’d that turf to spare; + Nor look’d the fiery Dog-star there. + And once more may Titania come, + With farewell, to her ancient home; + But, for the bee bird’s gaudy plume,[69] + Wav’d o’er her neck in quivering bloom, + Funereal spray of dismal hue, + Of cypress, or the baleful yew, + Join’d with the nightshade’s deadly flow’r, + Shall darkly o’er her forehead low’r. + Attendant Fays, in mournful throng, + Nor trace the dance, nor raise the song; + While, for the shrill reed’s cheerful sound, + That led them lightly tripping round, + Beetles and drones, with hummings low, + Measure their footfalls sad and slow.— + Alas, no gentle sprite remains! + But foul fiends scour th’ affrighted plains, + Rob of their honours hills and lawns, + Trace the mean ditch that greedy yawns, + And teach the reptile hedge to crawl; + Twin pests, confederate, seizing all. + + What old man with his gray dog sits, + What blind man, by those sandy pits? + ’Tis Manuel![70]—and he rests him, where + My fox-earth was his nightly care.— + Ah, come not now to scenes so drear, + Gay hunters! scenes ye cannot cheer. + Ah venture not their threats to brave; + Nor trample on your Needwood’s grave!— + ’Tis Manuel! and he knows my voice: + His tears, tho’ not his eyes, rejoice: + Reduc’d by age and loss of sight + To beggary and the parish mite, + That dog his only guide, he picks, + Groping in fear, those wretched sticks. + But soon will such small gleanings end.— + Thou, Needwood, wast the poor man’s friend! + + Garden of Nature! on whose face + Contended fragrance, bloom, and grace; + Kind nurse of her abundant good + To human wants, from herb or wood, + Tho’ seem the withering winds less rude + Than thoughtless man’s ingratitude; + Not all thy children droop forlorn, + Hurl’d from magnificence to scorn. + You, fox-gloves, through the varying year[71] + Fresh, vigorous and countless here, + You, happy fox-gloves, as you fell, + In triumph clos’d each purple bell; + Proud that the bark of fam’d Peru + Was rival’d, British plant, by you. + Philosophy and Science rare + Had pitied Dropsy’s sad despair, + And pour’d your healing treasure forth; + While their own Bard extoll’d your worth; + Poet and Sage: hence doubly shine + Your honours on Hygiea’s shrine, + Where pleas’d Apollo stoop’d to yield + To Darwin’s hand his lyre and shield.[72] + + Again, to save this fair domain,[73] + A Vernon strove, but strove in vain; + And many a noble heart was warm[74] + The fell devourer’s rage to charm; + But mean Self-interest lit the flame, + Blind Furies fann’d; and Ruin came. + + Yet Limbrook prattles, in her pride,[75] + Of ancient scenery on her side, + Calls, where her beauties still prevail, + To Byrkley Bowers and Yoxall Dale, + Boasts of deep shades and allies green, + And bids me mark that Forest mien, + Pleas’d, in this circlet, to secure + Her injur’d parents’ miniature; + And fain would cheer me, as she leads + By cultur’d banks to verdant meads; + And spreads her mirrors to reflect + How Nature’s hand-maid, Art, hath deck’d + The matron here, with choicest bloom;— + Ah, garlands now for Needwood’s tomb! + + Limbrook! protected child and heir, + Enjoy thy patrimony fair; + And ever, in thy favour’d bound,[76] + Prosperity and Peace be found. + Yet long wilt thou lament the change + Of herds and flocks, that near thee range, + More loudly to thy rushes chide, + Since comes no doe her fawn to hide; + And long thy murmuring stream will shrink, + When stoops the stranger ewe to drink;[77] + And long those oaks, Destruction spar’d, + Grieve for the greatness, once they shar’d, + And sigh, while, ages hence, appear + The tracks of their remember’d deer,[78] + And scatter, careless, to the wind, + Fruits, for their Autumn feast design’d. + + Thus, when that monster of the world[79] + Thy nobles from their honours hurl’d, + Oh France! a few, to fate resign’d, + All lost, but dignity of mind, + Still on the general wreck abide, + Terror and Tyranny beside, + And privileg’d in fall’n estate, + Walk humbly with the power they hate, + Regretful of their happier times, + And sighing o’er a nation’s crimes. + + Yet Byrkley Bowers, your Emma’s art[80] + Such sweet delusion can impart, + Such truth her curious pencil gives, + That Needwood in its magic lives. + O, haste to catch, ingenious maid, + His remnant beauties ere they fade: + So to th’ admiring world be shown + Fair forms, accomplish’d like your own! + + Though aptly might these dells retain + Wild Fancy and her sylvan train, + I ask no fabled nymph to lend + Her idle aid, as I descend; + I seek not such attendants here; + But hail your presence and revere, + Truth, Genius, Science!—Yoxall Dale, + ’Mong Forest Walks distinguish’d, hail! + Enough, that future times will say: + “Here Gisborne penn’d his moral lay,[81] + “Practis’d the duties he enjoin’d, + “Led and instructed human kind, + “Here the high paths of Nature trod, + “And saw and glorified her God.” + + Gigantic hollies![82] many a year + Your lopp’d limbs fed the pining deer; + And many a year, your growth renew’d, + In venerable solitude, + With arch and column, here you stood, + As once the Temple of the Wood. + The seasons wrought not on your form; + You bent not to the battering storm; + Arrested on each shrouded brow, + No wanton sunbeams pry’d below.— + Respected veterans! favourite glade! + Oft, as I pac’d your pensive shade, + Rapt Meditation mus’d in prayer; + Or self-indulgence soften’d care.— + These, Needwood, thy destroyers saw + And seiz’d, uncheck’d by shame or awe! + + Fair Virgin! in that hallow’d gloom,[83] + While the bell knoll’d thee to thy tomb, + I chose a polish’d trunk to mark + Thy memory on its yielding bark: + As held in reverence profound, + The grove was motionless around, + Save that an ivy’s stragling leaf + Shook in the breathings of my grief; + Watch’d Pity through her starting tears, + Numbering too soon thy transient years; + Lorn Loves, that knew thee well, were by; + And Sorrow with reverted eye. + Yes; “thou wast all that youth admires, + A parent seeks, or friend desires!” + + Ah, if yet spar’d, to that lone shrine + Direct me, some remaining sign! + Or whispering airs instruct to find, + Soft as ye kiss the swelling rind! + Or gentle red-breast hop before!— + No; those retirements are no more.— + See the griev’d wood-dove on her flight! + And the scar’d owlet lost in light! + + Hark! the same bell!—take, sister bier,[84] + Affection’s sigh and friendship’s tear! + These for ourselves:—for thee, blest shade! + Amply thy debt of life was paid; + And gentle, as that life, thy fall;— + Rest honour’d, as belov’d by all! + Rest, while the parting Virtues bear + For heaven’s approof, thy record fair! + In yonder cloud that lowers above, + Darkening the cheerful face of Dove, + Their white plumes glimmer to the eye, + And radiant arms extend on high. + + Yes, Holly-Bush![85]—endeared spot! + Forsaken long, but ne’er forgot! + Yes, Holly-Bush! through all disguise + I know thee, but with watery eyes! + With thee what warm emotions start! + What passions press upon my heart! + Quick rushes my own change to view; + And wounds, yet tender, bleed anew. + I come not now to treasur’d sweets; + Blank my approach; no welcome greets; + No lifted sash, no smiling face + Salutes me, joyous from the chase; + No ready grooms my call await; + Leaps on its hinge no friendly gate; + Not for my meal that kitchen’s blaze; + Thy people on a stranger gaze; + And, for the fox-hound cow’ring bland, + Bays the fierce house-dog at his stand. + Yet, as my doubtful step withdraws, + Fresh memories plead for longer pause; + While mixes with each faint farewell + What only struggling sighs can tell. + + Yes, Holly-Bush!—here fled too fast + Fair hours, most valued now they’re past. + But not, in my regard, import + These structures of a prouder sort; + And former fondness ill can brook + This order’d dress and inland look;[86] + Thy flowery copse and bowers make room + For alien shrubs and new perfume; + Thy meek rill swells with glaring brim; + Thy rude paths march through gardens trim; + Ah, here no unambitious brow,[87] + Nor my contented dwelling now! + + But thou remainest, favourite Tree! + Extend thy friendly canopy! + Ah! know me, sooth me, in my age, + And cheer this mournful pilgrimage! + + Hall! whose kind arm is stretch’d between[88] + The spoiler and yon Forest scene, + Its green vale with its wooded banks, + (And Needwood’s honour owes thee thanks) + Save too this suppliant at thy door, + O save my spreading Sycamore! + It gave my window breezes sweet, + And shelter when the tempest beat; + When wild bees humm’d its boughs among, + Or cooing stock-dove watch’d her young, + Oft have I sat beneath its shade, + And bless’d my children, as they play’d. + Ah! let not Taste, with upstart pride, + This old domestic thrust aside; + This relic, generous owner! spare + To Needwood’s earliest poet’s prayer: + So prosper here thy fair designs; + So Beauty lend thee her own lines; + So here all social Pleasures throng; + And sweet Enjoyment flourish long. + + Revered Swilcar![89] kingly Oak! + Ill spar’d from thee th’ assassin’s stroke. + How brilliant was thy sylvan court! + Of sons and subjects proud resort; + Here stately rang’d in close array; + There lightly group’d on carpets gay; + Attendant hollies glow’d beneath, + All arm’d; their crest a woodbine wreath. + In safety skipp’d the dappled herds; + Securely perch’d the choiring birds; + O’er charter’d ground thy broad shade spread; + In freedom wav’d thy sacred head, + Where age had whiten’d many a stem, + And plac’d an antler’d diadem. + + Horrid!—I see thee far[90]—defac’d— + In fetters on a dreary waste, + With outstretch’d arms and bosom bare, + Appealing to the troubled air; + Yet taxing not the pelting storm; + But those, more cruel, who deform + Thy rich retreats, thy turf defile + With fence, and road, and uses vile; + Nor of the whole, which Nature gave, + Leave thee enough to make thy grave, + When comes, as come it must, thy fall, + _Lear_ of the Forest, robb’d of all! + + Enough; and from my trembling hand + Drops the sad lyre.—Abused Land, + Take my last strains! in happier days + I tun’d my rude horn to thy praise; + And (all I wish’d) the friends I lov’d + Those unassuming notes approv’d; + And some, with strength beyond its own,[91] + In sweeter echoes cheer’d the tone; + To swell _this_ tear, which sorrow drew, + Do _they_ remain?—alas how few! + + Swilcar! from thee a wither’d bough + Will best become my temples now. + And pendent here my shell I leave + Mournfully mute; save when, at eve, + While Silence lists on brooding wings, + Soft airs shall brush the murmuring strings: + So still be fond complaint preferr’d, + Its master’s voice no longer heard! + + Then haply some, who wander near + Musing, may lend a partial ear; + And if thy venerable age, + And awful size their hearts engage, + If Nature’s wood-wild walks they love, + If violated grandeur move, + Ah, will not indignation rise, + As Fancy views with weeping eyes, + Nymphs, Satyrs, Fauns, in cheerless row, + And Dian with a broken bow; + Hears Druid’s groan and Dryad’s shriek + Oft through the moonlight stillness break, + Yon prison’d cliffs[92] their griefs repeat, + Dove howling hoarsely at their feet? + + Region!—I lov’d thee at my heart— + Farewell!—for ever now we part. + Forest farewell!—delighted Time + Thee would have spar’d in endless prime; + Me, as he shakes my ebbing sands, + While MORTAL LIFE her roll expands, + Me, feebly bending o’er thy tomb, + He beckons to her COMMON HOME.— + Ah, human weakness! may a name, + Aspiring to no splendid fame, + Live, yet a little, in my SONGS + Of NEEDWOOD’S PRAISE and NEEDWOOD’S WRONGS! + + + + + MY GRAND CLIMACTERIC. 1802. + + + As one, who journeys over unknown lands, + Ere yet the sun withdraws his western ray, + Stops on some mountain’s brow, whose site commands + The shifting scenes and labyrinths of the way; + + With fond reverted look his thoughts retrace, + Where flowers their sweets, and wild-birds gave their song, + And dwell, long dwell! on many a favourite space, + Where prodigal of time he loiter’d long; + + Lovers and friends in bright perspective rise, + Companions of his morn, on yon blue hill; + Down that blank plain he drops a look, and sighs, + Whence seem their parting words to reach him still; + + Here his pain’d eyes unkindly districts mark, + Where faint heats smote him or fierce storms o’ertook; + There strain o’er deep’ning woods at noonday dark, + Where his false steps their destin’d course forsook; + + Pond’ring the change and chances of the day, + As warning eve prepares her veil to close, + Serious, he now proceeds with short survey, + Expecting night’s dark hour, and hoping calm repose: + + So I look back on more than sixty years, + In life’s sequester’d walks obscurely spent, + Where tho’ its trophied head no column rears, + Inscrib’d with mighty deed, or proud event, + + Yet, on some few small eminencies, glow + The heart’s rejoicing-lights of self-applause; + Some generous claims surmount the gloom below, + And shame and sharp regrets a moment pause; + + Yet these prevail—ah! might my wish prevail + That Time would turn my near exhausted glass; + Then not a grain should of its harvest fail;— + Seeds are but sands when unimprov’d they pass. + + Vain wish! vain promise! what dost thou presume, + O weak Humanity? thyself but dust! + Since from the cradle, hourly, to the tomb, + Toil, trifle, err and grieve, frail thing! thou must. + + But pleasures, passions lose their dangerous force; + And the world’s business shrinks as age descends: + O spare Adversity! my evening course; + My little part is play’d, my small importance ends. + + + + + _To F. N. C. MUNDY, Esq._ + ON HIS POEM + THE FALL OF NEEDWOOD. + + + Poet of Needwood, much my heart approves + This thy ow’d duty to his ravag’d groves, + The lost! the lovely! who in better days + View’d their each grace reflected in thy lays; + And O! when many a future Age has pass’d, + Rolling oblivious o’er his nameless Waste, + Its sometime beauties shall again revive, + And in thy pictur’d strains for EVER live. + + Come, pensive listening, ye once jocund Throng, + Whilome that rov’d those forest-haunts along; + Explor’d, with pleasure brightening in your air, + Each coy, green labyrinth and each turfy lair, + Still, as in pride of youth, the wanton Spring + Expanded to the Sun her showery wing, + And cliffs, illustrious in their golden bloom, + Rose o’er the glades of light-besprinkled gloom. + + Nor absent ye when Summer’s fervid Hours + Dropt more luxuriant curtains on the Bowers, + And the vast Oak’s writh’d arms of dusky green + Shadow’d the dappled Tenants of the Scene, + With rival Elm, whose mossy trunk appears + Out-numbering far the lonely Eagle’s years. + + Nor when the Months consummate, left their vales + To Suns less ardent, less benignant gales, + And Autumn painted, with his tawny hand, + The shrinking foliage, and in colours bland + Streak’d the pale red with purple, faint and brief, + And tipt with tarnish’d gold each trembling leaf. + + Nor e’en when Phœbus’ Steeds, no longer fleet, + With mane dishevel’d streaming to their feet, + Struggling thro’ clouds, th’ hybernal Solstice gain, + Their necks bedropt with globes of freezing rain, + And the loud Tyrant of the dying Year + Stript OTHER Groves, made OTHER Forests fear; + For Needwood to his sway disdain’d to yield; + His polish’d umbrage an unfailing shield, + Those numerous hollies on his breast and brow, + That thrust their scarlet clusters thro’ the snow, + Or spread their glossy leaves to transient rays + The rebel Glory of the icy days. + + Nor if, ere yet arisen, dim Morning heard + Your lightheel’d Coursers paw the dewy swerd, + When the sly Prowler stole adown the wind, + And hop’d he left no tell-tale scent behind. + Vain hope! your swift staunch hounds the search began, + To right and left their hurrying numbers ran, + Till found the taint, in streaming files they hie, + And in one shrill, continuous, clamouring cry, + To which th’ accordant Forest joyous rings, + Hang on his rear, while o’er the vale he springs, + Dash through the rhimy glades, and round the hills + As when receiving tribute brooks and rills + O’er flinty bed a River foams and roars, + Loud and impatient of meandering shores; + Or, deepen’d, shews the Sun his mirror’d face, + Or zones with silver light the mountain’s base. + + Now come, with Mundy, where the Ruin lowers! + He hymns the dirge of the devasted Bowers. + Echo his wailings o’er their fallen state, + Whom Centuries hail’d irregularly great. + Come, execrate the Edict that destroy’d, + Leaving Time-hallow’d Needwood bare and void! + There fell Imagination’s rural fane! + Thence fled fair-shafted Dian’s votive Train, + All which the Bard, entranc’d, in forest sees, + Satyrs and Fauns and leaf-crown’d Dryades. + They fled when Avarice, with rapacious frown, + From Mercia’s temples struck her sylvan crown. + + Yet, gentle Minstrel, they whose raptur’d ears + Drank thy sweet Song in the departed years; + Saw oaken wreaths thy auburn brows entwine, + The well-won meed at Needwood’s shadowy shrine, + Shall find thy Gratulation’s vivid glow + Match’d by thy Requiem in its mournful flow; + The orb of Mundy’s Muse-illumin’d day + Setting with rival tho’ with milder ray; + Pleas’d shall compare the evening with the noon, + And feel, in equal power, the Cypress Garland won. + + ANNA SEWARD.[93] + + + + + IMPROMPTU. + TO THE AUTHOR OF THE NEW POEM, ENTITLED + THE FALL OF NEEDWOOD. + + OCTOBER, 1808. + + + When Poesy, the Child of Zeal, + Who soothes each Pang, that Earth can feel, + Beheld, at wounded Nature’s call, + That Scene of Horror, Needwood’s Fall! + She said, in haste to yield Relief, + And calm the Mighty Mother’s Grief: + “Nature! dear Parent! Power divine! + Whose Joys and Griefs are truly mine! + To you my sympathy devotes + My chearful, and my plaintive Notes: + With Feelings not to be supprest, + I view your lacerated Breast; + This Waste of Ravages! where stood + Your Sylvan Wealth! your graceful Wood! + I cannot from the rifled Earth + Call into sudden, second Birth + The Forest, vanished from your sight, + Tho’ once your Pride! and my Delight! + But I can raise, in your Distress, + A Charm, that scarce will soothe you less; + Behold this Proof of my Regard, + In Needwood’s fascinating Bard! + + He, whom our blended Gifts engage + To sing, with youthful Fire, in age, + He, Needwood! by whose Breath you live, + Gives you, whatever Verse can give; + He makes immortal, in his Songs, + Your Beauties all, and all your Wrongs: + His Verse displays a deathless Charm, + That foils the Force of Havoc’s Arm; + Age after Age, while Nymphs are found + To breathe Delight on English Ground, + The grateful Dryads will admire + The Magic of their Mundy’s Lyre; + And boast the Wood, he lov’d to praise, + For ever verdant in his Lays. + + W. HAYLEY. + +----- + +Footnote 1: + + [DOVE, _etc._] The river _Dove_. + +Footnote 2: + + [_And bids his hollies, etc._] The numerous groves and clumps of + hollies give uncommon beauty to the winter-scenes of _Needwood + Forest_. + +Footnote 3: + + [EMES, _etc._] Mr. EMES, who ornamented _Beaudesart_, the seat of Ld. + PAGET, which is seen from the Forest, and who has obtained great + reputation for his Taste in ornamental Gardening, has frequently + assured the Author, that he took his best hints from the scenes of + _Needwood_. + +Footnote 4: + + [_Maim’d the staunch hound, etc._] Alludes to the Order for _Lawing_, + or cutting off a claw of all Dogs kept within the purlieus of the + royal forests, to prevent their destroying the Deer. + +Footnote 5: + + [_Here with fair peace, etc._] The Author rents his house, upon the + verge of the forest, of Sir WM. BAGOT. It was built and inhabited by + two gentlemen of the BAGOT family. + +Footnote 6: + + [_And_ ARDEN _boasts, etc._] See SHAKESPEAR’S _As you like it_.—Scene + Forest of Arden. + +Footnote 7: + + [_The wandering Wood, etc._] Fairy Queen, Book 1st. chap. 1st. stanza + 13th. _This is the wandering Wood, this Errors den._ + +Footnote 8: + + [_And bears away, etc._] B. 1st. c. 2d. The Shield inscribed _Sans + Foy_. + +Footnote 9: + + [_A gaudy bee-bird’s, etc._] The Humming Bird. + +Footnote 10: + + [_And there in gothic arches, etc._] Dr. Warburton observes the gothic + architecture originally imitated the groves, which were in earlier + times consecrated to religious worship. + + DIVINE LEGATION. + +Footnote 11: + + [_One like a sexton, etc._] Earth-stopper. + +Footnote 12: + + [_Where this gay mount, etc._] A beautiful eminence called + KING’S-STANDING. + +Footnote 13: + + [_And_ LICHFIELD’S _bower, etc._] LICHFIELD Bower is supposed to be + the tumulus of three Saxon Kings slain in battle near that spot. + +Footnote 14: + + [_British Nile, etc._] Dr. PLOTT calls the DOVE the Nile of England, + and attributes the fertility of its floods to the sheep dung washed + from the hills in the Moorlands. + +Footnote 15: + + [BROWN, _etc._] HAWKINS BROWN Esq; of _Foston upon Dove_. + +Footnote 16: + + [C’ANDISH, _etc._] _Doveridge_, the seat of C’ANDISH, ESQ; + +Footnote 17: + + [FITZHERBERT, _etc._] RICHARD FITZHERBERT, ESQ; of _Sommershall_. + +Footnote 18: + + [_The social flag, etc._] Messrs. ADDERLEY and SCOTT have pitched a + tent upon a fine hill above _Coton_, from whence a flag flies when + they are at home, as a signal to their friends. + +Footnote 19: + + [_Outlaw, etc._] A Deer-stealer refusing to surrender was here slain + by a Keeper. + +Footnote 20: + + [_Where life a gentler breast, etc._] This unfortunate young man being + sent on an errand by the Author of this Poem, died on his return; was + found next morning in the forest within a mile of his home, his dog + standing by him. He was a weaver, supported his father and mother; was + engaged on the night of his death to meet his sweetheart at a + Christmas feast in the neighbourhood. + +Footnote 21: + + [_Yon cliff, etc._] TUTBURY CASTLE. + +Footnote 22: + + [FERRERS, _etc._] ROBERT DE FERRERS joining a rebellion against HENRY + 3d. forfeited the possession of _Tutbury_. + +Footnote 23: + + [_Castle-guard, etc._] A service imposed upon those to whom Castles + and Estates adjoining were granted. + +Footnote 24: + + [MARY, _etc._] MARY Queen of _Scots_ was a prisoner in _Tutbury_ + Castle at the time of the Duke of NORFOLK’s intrigues: she listened to + his proposals of marriage, as the only means of obtaining her liberty, + declaring herself otherwise averse to farther matrimonial connections. + +Footnote 25: + + [_While minstrels, etc._] The minstrels formerly crowded to _Tutbury_ + Castle, then a place of festivity and hospitality, in such numbers, as + to require regulations of order and precedence amongst them, the + person appointed for this purpose was called _King_ of the + _Minstrels_. + +Footnote 26: + + [_In the rude sport, etc._] The annual Bull-running. + +Footnote 27: + + [_Yon hill, etc._] HOUND-HILL, the ancient seat of the VERNON’S. + +Footnote 28: + + [_Beside me lies, etc._] The situation of NEEDWOOD is high, and its + banks, descending from the plain of the forest to the country below, + are in many places a mile deep; they consist of alternate cliffs and + dingles, and are entirely covered with trees and rough copses. + +Footnote 29: + + [_Yes_, EATON-BANKS, _etc._] EATON-WOOD, seen from the Forest, was the + property of the late GODFRY BAGNELL CLARKE, ESQUIRE. + +Footnote 30: + + [HENRY, _etc._] The Hon. HENRY VERNON. + +Footnote 31: + + [_On breezy wings, etc._] A Deer when hunted runs against the Wind. + +Footnote 32: + + [_No shrite-cock, etc._] The Shrite-cock or Missel Thrush. + +Footnote 33: + + [_Destruction’s arm, etc._] By order from the Dutchy Court of + LANCASTER, to which the forest of NEEDWOOD belongs, the timber is now + felling under the direction of an officer of that Court. + +Footnote 34: + + [_Huge_ SWILCAR, _etc._] SWILCAR Oak stands singly upon a beautiful + small lawn surrounded with extensive woods,—it is of remarkable size, + and supposed to be six hundred years old. + +Footnote 35: + + [_Accursed_ JULIUS, _etc._] CÆSAR cuts down a consecrated grove. + LUCAN, lib. 3. + +Footnote 36: + + [_In freedom’s dearest days, etc._] The charter of HEN. 3. confirms + the privilege to Lords of parliament of killing a Deer or two in any + of the royal forests in their way to or from parliament, in the + presence of the keeper, or on blowing a horn in his absence.—’tis + about six hundred years since that king reigned. + +Footnote 37: + + [_Yet, yet, fond Hope, etc._] Upon the above order from the Dutchy + Court, Ld. VERNON proposed an inclosure of some parts of the forest, + for the preservation of the young timber, and the beauty of the place. + +Footnote 38: + + [_Flake of snow, etc._] Flake-white. + +Footnote 39: + + [_Lakes, etc._] Carnation Colours. + +Footnote 40: + + [_Where Desolation, etc._] The trees in some parts have been so + injudiciously fallen, that the tillage of the ground is extremely + difficult, or quite at a stand. + +Footnote 41: + + [_Long Mercia sat beside enthron’d_;] The magnificent site of the + castle at Tutbury, no doubt was occupied by a considerable fort in or + before the time of the Saxon heptarchy when it was the residence of + the Kings and Earls of Mercia, who might alternately enjoy hence the + pleasures of the chase in their adjoining forest of Needwood, or the + satisfaction of security against an enemy.—Shaw’s _History of + Staffordshire_. + +Footnote 42: + + [_And prouder crowns its honours own’d._] See Needwood Forest, p. 23, + of King’s-Standing. + +Footnote 43: + + [_Loos’d Uproar &c._] The day of disafforesting presented an + extraordinary scene of riot and disturbance, in consequence of the + pursuit of the remaining deer by mobs from all parts. + +Footnote 44: + + [_Repentant claimants &c._] It is believed that the freeholders now + very generally regret the Inclosure. + +Footnote 45: + + [_How far the foremost and the best_,] Though formerly the yeomanry of + this kingdom were every where trained to the use of the long-bow, and + excelled all other nations in the art of shooting, it may be + reasonably presumed that the best archers were to be found in and near + the forests. + +Footnote 46: + + [_You in your secret labyrinths &c._] Those scenes (forests in + Somersetshire) will ever be famous in British history, while the + remembrance continues of Alfred the Great. Frequent inundations of + Danes and repeated losses had driven him from the management of + affairs. But he retired before the enemies of his country only to + attack them with more advantage. Seeing the time ripe for action he + emerged from his retreat where he had been concealed, but not inactive + during a twelvemonth; called his friends together in the forest of + Selwood, which sheltered him and his numbers. Here arranging his + followers, he burst from the forest like a torrent upon the Danes, and + totally defeated them.—_Gilpin’s Forest Scenery, Hume, &c._ + +Footnote 47: + + [_Your hush’d leaves &c._] Alfred on the night of his retirement from + the Danes, it is said, had a vision of St. Cuthbert, comforting and + assuring him he should be a great King.—_Camden’s Britannia._ + +Footnote 48: + + [_You tun’d his harp, you trimm’d his bow._] He was skilful in the use + of both. + +Footnote 49: + + [_Your proud oaks lean’d_] He provided himself with a naval power, + which though the most natural defence of an island, had hitherto been + totally neglected by the English. + +Footnote 50: + + [_Your song-birds_] He endeavoured to convey his morality to his + subjects by apologues, parables, stories, and apothegms couch’d in + poetry. + +Footnote 51: + + [_While Liberty &c._] Amidst the necessary rigor of justice this great + Prince preserved the most sacred regard to the liberty of his people. + +Footnote 52: + + [_Lair_] The couch or harbour of a wild beast. _Milton._ + +Footnote 53: + + [_With fresh fray’d beams &c._] As soon as the new horns (or beams) of + a stag have acquired their full dimensions and solidity, he rubs them + against the trees in order to clear them of a skin with which they are + covered.—_Buffon._ To fray (_frayer_, _Fr._) is the hunting term for + this operation. + +Footnote 54: + + [_On yonder castled cliff &c._] Tutbury castle, the residence of John + of Gaunt Duke of Lancaster. + +Footnote 55: + + [_And fill’d they not &c._] The Duke of Lancaster greatly + distinguished himself in a battle fought between Najara and Navarete + near the Ebro in Spain in 1367. He commanded the 1st battalion of the + English army.—_Johnes’s Froissart._ + +Footnote 56: + + [_Spain’s boasted slingers &c._] The Spanish commonalty made use of + slings, to which they were accustomed, & from which they threw large + stones which at first much annoyed the English: but when their first + cast was over, and they felt the sharpness of the English arrows, they + kept no longer any order.—_Johnes’s Froissart._ + +Footnote 57: + + [_Hark! nations hail &c._] Alluding to his prowess and fame in the + Crusades. + +Footnote 58: + + [_The man thy Minstrels bring_,] As the subject of their historic + ballads. The minstrels were much encouraged in this King’s reign. + +Footnote 59: + + [_As Sherwood’s Hero, &c._] The severity of those tyrannical + forest-laws that were introduced by our Norman Kings, and the great + temptation of breaking them by such as lived near the royal forests, + must constantly have occasioned great numbers of outlaws, and + especially of such as were the best marksmen. These naturally fled to + the woods for shelter, and forming into troops endeavoured by their + numbers to protect themselves from the dreadful penalties of their + delinquency. This will easily account for the troops of banditti, + which formerly lurked in the Royal forests, and from their superior + skill in archery and knowledge of the recesses of those unfrequented + solitudes, found it no difficult matter to resist or elude the civil + power. Among those, none was ever more famous than Robin Hood, the + Hero of Sherwood forest; of whom Stow’s account is briefly thus.—“In + this time (about the year 1190, in the reign of Richard 1st) were many + robbers and outlaws, among the which Robin Hood and Little John, + renowned thieves, continued in woods despoyling and robbing the goods + of the rich. They killed none but such as would invade them, or by + resistance for their own defence. The saide Robert entertained an + hundred tall men and good archers with such spoiles and thefts as he + got, upon whom four hundred (were they ever so strong) durst not give + the onset. He suffered no woman to be oppressed, violated, or + otherwise molested: poor mens goods he spared abundantlie, relieving + them with that, which by theft he got from Abbeys and the houses of + rich Carles.” The personal courage of this celebrated outlaw, his + skill in archery, his humanity, and especially his levelling principle + of taking from the rich and giving to the poor, have in all ages + rendered him the favourite of the common people. He was in early times + the favourite subject of popular songs.—_Percy’s Reliques of antient + English Poetry, 1st vol._ + +Footnote 60: + + [_Bright brown blade, broad arrows, gown of green_,] is the language + of the ballads. + +Footnote 61: + + [_Needwood, this brave man &c._] See in Robin Hood’s garland a ballad, + (quoted in Shaw’s History of Staffordshire) giving an account of Robin + Hood’s visit to Tutbury; and of his marriage there with + Clorinda.________ The relation of the forest to Tutbury will probably + admit of this consideration of them as one and the same. + +Footnote 62: + + [_King’s-standing, &c._] See Needwood Forest, page 23. + +Footnote 63: + + [_On the stain’d turf their wrecks are pil’d_,] Bark-ranges. + +Footnote 64: + + [_In smouldering heaps, &c._] Making charcoal. + +Footnote 65: + + [_From blacken’d brakes_,] Burning the furze-brakes.—Goss.—_Bailey’s + Dictionary._ + +Footnote 66: + + [_Yon Wretch_] Surveyor or overlooker. + +Footnote 67: + + [_Valley! where Marebrook, all unveil’d_,] This Valley nearly bisected + the Forest in beautifully varied windings, though without trees of any + kind on its sides, or on the verge of its little stream, Marebrook, + the course of which was remarkably flexuous; but is now actually + turned down the straight fence-ditch. + +Footnote 68: + + [_And knights and dames, and dwarfs portray’d, &c._] Needwood Forest, + p. 16. + +Footnote 69: + + [_But for the bee bird’s gaudy plume, &c._] See Needwood Forest, p. + 16. + +Footnote 70: + + [_Manuel._] The Forest earth-stopper in the hunting days of the + author. + +Footnote 71: + + [_You fox-gloves, &c._] _See_ _Digitalis—Loves of the plants, p. 78._ + + “The effect of this plant (the fresh leaves of which may be had at all + seasons of the year) in that kind of Dropsy which is termed anasarca + is truly astonishing.” + +Footnote 72: + + [_Lyre and shield._] As the God of Medicine, giving health and safety, + Apollo is sometimes described with a shield, as well as a lyre. + +Footnote 73: + + [_Again to save &c._] See Needwood Forest, p. 43. + +Footnote 74: + + [_And many a noble heart &c._] Alluding to the opposition to the + Inclosure. + +Footnote 75: + + [_Yet Limbrook, &c._] This rivulet rises on the late Forest and takes + its course through an extensive valley on the brow of which stands + Byrkley Lodge, and proceeds downwards by Yoxall Lodge: some beautiful + Forest scenes have been added to the old Inclosures of these Lodges, + where are shrubberies and sheets of water. + +Footnote 76: + + [_And ever, in thy favour’d bound_,] Applying the whole scenery around + these lodges to Limbrook. + +Footnote 77: + + [_When stoops the stranger ewe to drink_;] Sheep were not depastur’d + on the Forest. + +Footnote 78: + + [_The tracks of their remember’d deer_,] It is said that the + Wolf-tracks may yet be seen in some parts which those animals + frequented, in Ireland, centuries ago. + +Footnote 79: + + [_Monster of the world_] French Revolution. + +Footnote 80: + + [_Emma’s art_] Miss Emma Sneyd, of Byrkley Lodge, has produced some + beautiful landscapes and drawings of the Forest scenes. + +Footnote 81: + + [“_Here Gisborne penn’d his moral lay_] The character and writings + both in verse and prose of the Rev. Thomas Gisborne, of Yoxall Lodge, + are equally well known and admired: the public has lately called for a + seventh edition of his “Walks in a Forest.” + +Footnote 82: + + [_Gigantic hollies!_] Particular groups of hollies of great age and + size are here alluded to, as in _Needwood Forest p. 19_. Having been + lopped for the deer in winter, (the upper part of their remaining + trunks and branches being again cloathed with their fresh ever-green + shoots) they had somewhat the appearance of ruins. + +Footnote 83: + + [_Fair Virgin!_] The Hon. Catharine Venables Vernon died in the summer + of 1775. + +Footnote 84: + + [_Hark the same bell!—take, sister bier_,] The Hon. Martha Venables + Vernon died while the Author was writing this poem. + +Footnote 85: + + [_Yes, Holly-Bush!_] Formerly the residence of the Author, where many + alterations have since been made and are making. + +Footnote 86: + + [_Inland look_;] In contradistinction to its former forest character, + in which sense this word is repeatedly used by Shakespear in “As you + like it,” though there applied to persons. + +Footnote 87: + + [_Unambitious brow &c._] Needwood Forest p. 8.——[_Favourite Tree + Sycamore_;] Needwood Forest p. 10. + +Footnote 88: + + [_Hall, whose kind arm &c._] T. K. Hall, Esq. has purchased Holly Bush + with a considerable portion of the adjacent Forest land, the scenery + of which he intends to preserve. + +Footnote 89: + + [_Revered Swilcar_;] Needwood Forest p. 41, 42. &c. + +Footnote 90: + + [_Horrid!—I see thee far!_] The present appearance of Swilcar oak over + a broad and hitherto uncultivated part of the late Forest, where not + another tree remains, is very striking. He is fenced off from a new + road. + +Footnote 91: + + [_And some, with strength &c._] Alluding to the complimentary verses + printed with Needwood Forest, and others afterwards sent to the + author. + +Footnote 92: + + [_Yon prison’d cliffs_] The banks and cliffs of the Forest, hanging + towards the river Dove, are now fenced in, though otherwise left in + their former state. + +Footnote 93: + + Milton, in Comus, makes Naiades the plural of Naiad, “amid the + flowery-kirtled Naiades.” + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + + + + + TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES + + + ● Typos fixed; non-standard spelling and dialect retained. + ● Used numbers for footnotes, placing them all at the end of the last + chapter. + ● Enclosed italics font in _underscores_. + ● Enclosed blackletter font in =equals=. + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75378 *** |