The Vassal’s Lament for the Fallen Tree
Yes! I have seen the ancient oakOn the dark deep water cast,And it was not fell’d 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.
I saw it fall, as falls a chiefBy 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!
’Tis fallen! But think thou not I weepFor the forest’s pride o’erthrown--An old man’s tears lie far too deepTo be pour’d for this alone;But by that sign too well I knowThat a youthful head must soon be low!
A youthful head, with its shining hair,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--Oh! could my life redeem him yet!
He bounded by me as I gazedAlone on the fatal sign,And it seem’d like sunshine when he raisedHis joyous glance to mine.With a stag’s fleet step he bounded by,So full of life--but he must die!
He must, he must! in that deep dell,By that dark water’s side,’Tis known that ne’er a proud tree fellBut an heir of his fathers died.And he--there’s laughter in his eye,Joy in his voice--yet he must die!
I’ve borne him in these arms, that nowAre 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 noble boy!--how proudly sprungThe falcon from his hand!It seem’d 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.
Say not ’tis vain! I tell thee, someAre warn’d 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!
Words in this poem
- woodman n.
- A forest officer appointed to take care of the king's woods; a forester. [Eng.]
- shook v. t.
- To pack, as staves, in a shook.
- crashing n.
- The noise of many things falling and breaking at once.
- sunshine n.
- The light of the sun, or the place where it shines; the direct rays of the sun, the place where they fall, or the warmth and light which they give.
- dell n.
- A small, retired valley; a ravine. [AS. del, akin to E. dale; cf. D. delle, del, low ground. See Dale.]
- nerveless a.
- Destitute of nerves.
- dirge n.
- A piece of music of a mournful character, to accompany funeral rites; a funeral hymn. [Contraction of Lat. dirige, direct thou (imperative of dirigere), the first word of a funeral hymn (Lat. transl. of Psalm v. 8) beginning, "Dirige, Domine, in c]
- flitting n.
- A flying with lightness and celerity; a fluttering.
- glorious a.
- Exhibiting attributes, qualities, or acts that are worthy of or receive glory; noble; praiseworthy; excellent; splendid; illustrious; inspiring admiration; as, glorious deeds. [OF. glorios, glorious, F. glorieux, fr. L. gloriosus. See Glory, n.]
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
The Vassal’s Lament for the Fallen Tree is in the public domain. This text is taken from The Poems of Felicia Hemans, Project Gutenberg ebook #66785; the transcription's header, footer and licence were removed and nothing else was changed. You may copy, print and reuse it freely.
Cite as: Felicia Hemans, The Vassal’s Lament for the Fallen Tree, in Poems (1808–1835), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #66785, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/hemans-poems/the-vassal-s-lament-for-the-fallen-tree.html, id L19339.
Form and metre
The Vassal’s Lament for the Fallen Tree is 54 lines in 9 stanzas of 6 lines each. Every stanza rhymes ABABCC. The metre is iambic tetrameter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 82%).
See other poems in iambic tetrameter.
Measured by Laurel's pipeline, not copied from a handbook: how stress and metre are counted, how rhyme is lettered, how a drifted rhyme is found. Where the dictionary cannot confirm a rhyme the letter is withheld, not guessed.
Rhyme words, stanza by stanza
The word that ends each line, lettered by the rhyme it makes; a dash is a line whose rhyme the dictionary could not confirm.
- 1 ABABCC oakA · castB · strokeA · blastB · treeC · seaC
- 2 ABABCC chiefA · fightB · leafA · mightB · drewC · flewC
- 3 ABABCC weepA · o'erthrownB · deepA · aloneB · knowC · lowC
- 4 ABABCC hairA · eyeB · fairA · dieB · setC · yetC
- 5 ABABCC gazedA · signB · raisedA · mineB · byC · dieC
- 6 ABABCC dellA · sideB · fellA · diedB · eyeC · dieC
- 7 ABABCC nowA · unstrungB · browA · flungB · crestC · breastC
- 8 ABABCC sprungA · handB · youngA · landB · nighC · dieC
- 9 ABABCC someA · lightB · homeA · nightB · heC · treeC
Scansion, line by line
Each line with its syllable count and the stresses the words themselves fix: / stressed, ˘ unstressed, · a syllable the word leaves free and the metre decides. Read against iambic tetrameter. How this is done.
| Line | Syl. | Stress |
|---|---|---|
| Yes! I have seen the ancient oak | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| On the dark deep water cast, | 7 | ····/˘· |
| And it was not fell’d by the woodman’s stroke, | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| Or the rush of the sweeping blast; | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| For the axe might never touch that tree, | 8 | ····/··· |
| And the air was still as a summer sea. | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| I saw it fall, as falls a chief | 8 | ········ |
| By an arrow in the fight, | 7 | ··/˘··· |
| And the old woods shook, to their loftiest leaf, | 10 | ·········· |
| At the crashing of its might; | 7 | ··/˘··· |
| And the startled deer to their coverts drew, | 10 | ··/˘···/˘· |
| And the spray of the lake as a fountain’s flew! | 11 | ········/˘· |
| ’Tis fallen! But think thou not I weep | 9 | ·/˘······ |
| For the forest’s pride o’erthrown-- | 7 | ··/˘··· |
| An old man’s tears lie far too deep | 8 | ········ |
| To be pour’d for this alone; | 7 | ·····˘/ |
| But by that sign too well I know | 8 | ········ |
| That a youthful head must soon be low! | 9 | ··/˘····· |
| A youthful head, with its shining hair, | 9 | ·/˘···/˘· |
| And its bright quick-flashing eye; | 7 | ····/˘· |
| Well may I weep! for the boy is fair, | 9 | ········· |
| Too fair a thing to die! | 6 | ······ |
| But on his brow the mark is set-- | 8 | ········ |
| Oh! could my life redeem him yet! | 8 | ····˘/·· |
| He bounded by me as I gazed | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| Alone on the fatal sign, | 7 | ˘/··/˘· |
| And it seem’d like sunshine when he raised | 9 | ····/···· |
| His joyous glance to mine. | 6 | ·/˘··· |
| With a stag’s fleet step he bounded by, | 9 | ······/˘· |
| So full of life--but he must die! | 8 | ········ |
| He must, he must! in that deep dell, | 8 | ········ |
| By that dark water’s side, | 6 | ···/˘· |
| ’Tis known that ne’er a proud tree fell | 8 | ········ |
| But an heir of his fathers died. | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| And he--there’s laughter in his eye, | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| Joy in his voice--yet he must die! | 8 | ········ |
| I’ve borne him in these arms, that now | 8 | ········ |
| Are nerveless and unstrung; | 6 | ·/˘··· |
| And must I see, on that fair brow, | 8 | ········ |
| The dust untimely flung? | 6 | ··˘/˘· |
| I must!--yon green oak, branch and crest, | 8 | ········ |
| Lies floating on the dark lake’s breast! | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| The noble boy!--how proudly sprung | 8 | ·/˘··/˘· |
| The falcon from his hand! | 6 | ·/˘··· |
| It seem’d like youth to see him young, | 8 | ········ |
| A flower in his father’s land! | 8 | ·/˘··/˘· |
| But the hour of the knell and the dirge is nigh, | 11 | ··/········ |
| For the tree hath fallen, and the flower must die. | 11 | ····/˘··/·· |
| Say not ’tis vain! I tell thee, some | 8 | ········ |
| Are warn’d by a meteor’s light, | 8 | ····/˘˘· |
| Or a pale bird, flitting, calls them home, | 9 | ····/˘··· |
| Or a voice on the winds by night; | 8 | ········ |
| And they must go! And he too, he!-- | 8 | ········ |
| Woe for the fall of the glorious Tree! | 9 | ······/˘· |
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