He died in battle; and his lands By craft and deeds unfair, His brother claimed and won, although His infant son was heir. This hard, bad man was miserly, And loved no thing save gold; He soon marked out the stately tree, To be cut down and sold. What was its beauty unto him?-- The grand and noble thing! His dull eyes only measured well What moneys it would bring. But while he doomed the lordly oak, His wicked life ebbed low, And suddenly, death summoned him From his ill-got hoards to go. The grand estate--the ancient hall, The woods, and wealth untold, Came then unto that warrior’s child, A boy of ten years old. He was a thoughtful, quiet boy, For though yet young in years, His mother’s sorrows and his own Had made him old in tears. And with a calm and gentle joy Came home that youthful heir, For his chief source of gladness was, To bring his mother there:-- To watch her sadly smile to see Again each well-known spot, Where days of happiness had passed, That ne’er could be forgot:-- To have her former state restored, Maidens, and serving-men; And garments, richer than of old, He bade them bring her then. The gardens, that the miser had Left all untrimmed and bare, Were planted, pruned, and decked anew, And stored with all things rare. But chiefly did the lady love One glade within the wood, The shady glade, where broad and high, The noble Oak tree stood. Sad memories, yet sweet ones too, For her that lone spot bore: ’Twas there she parted from her lord To meet on earth no more! ’Twas there, beneath that tree, he spoke His last, _last_ fond farewell! From thence she watched him ride away The eve before he fell:-- No marvel that sad lady loved The silent spot so well! And there they oft together came, The lady and the boy, For he to her was all on earth, Her one sole living joy. And long years after, when she slept Her warrior’s tomb beside, When the boy had grown an aged man, With grandsons by his side:-- That ancient wood he reverenced; And peasants, when they spoke Of the old tree within the glade, Called it--the Lady’s Oak. I know the spot--though strangely time Hath altered all around, Where once the forest’s stillness lay, Now whirling wheels resound. A large and busy peopled town E’en on that spot we see, Where dappled deer and timid birds Dwelt fearlessly and free. But I remember when a child, One old and mouldering shell Of a most ancient, huge Oak tree Stood near the public well. I’ve sat within it many a time, In childish sport and play, And much I mourned to see at last The trunk quite cleared away.