In that old tree when playfully the summer breezes sigh, Its leaves are stirred, and there is heard a low and plaintive cry; And when in shrieks the storm blast speaks its reverend boughs among, Sad wailing moans, like human groans, the concert harsh prolong. But whether gale or calm prevail, or threatening cloud hath fled, By hand of Fate, predestinate, a limb that tree will shed; A verdant bough--untouched, I trow, by axe or tempest's breath-- To Rookwood's head an omen dread of fast-approaching death. Some think that tree instinct must be with preternatural power. Like 'larum bell Death's note to knell at Fate's appointed hour; While some avow that on its bough are fearful traces seen, Red as the stains from human veins, commingling with the green. Others, again, there are maintain that on the shattered bark A print is made, where fiends have laid their scathing talons dark; That, ere it falls, the raven calls thrice from that wizard bough; And that each cry doth signify what space the Fates allow. In olden days, the legend says, as grim Sir Ranulph view'd A wretched hag her footsteps drag beneath his lordly wood. His bloodhounds twain he called amain, and straightway gave her chase; Was never seen in forest green, so fierce, so fleet a race! With eyes of flame to Ranulph came each red and ruthless hound, While mangled, torn--a sight forlorn!--the hag lay on the ground; E'en where she lay was turned the clay, and limb and reeking bone Within the earth, with ribald mirth, by Ranulph grim were thrown. And while as yet the soil was wet with that poor witch's gore, A lime-tree stake did Ranulph take, and pierced her bosom's core; And, strange to tell, what next befell!--that branch at once took root, And richly fed, within its bed, strong suckers forth did shoot. From year to year fresh boughs appear--it waxes huge in size; And, with wild glee, this prodigy Sir Ranulph grim espies. One day, when he, beneath that tree, reclined in joy and pride, A branch was found upon the ground--the next, Sir Ranulph died! And from that hour a fatal power has ruled that Wizard Tree, To Ranulph's line a warning sign of doom and destiny: For when a bough is found, I trow, beneath its shade to lie, Ere suns shall rise thrice in the skies a Rookwood sure shall die! "And such an omen preceded Sir Piers's demise?" said Luke, who had listened with some attention to his grandsire's song.