Toll ye, my Second! toll! Fling high the flambeaux' light; And sing the hymn for a parted soul, Beneath the silent night! The wreath upon his head, The cross upon his breast, Let the prayer be said, and 'the tear be shed:So-take him to his rest! Call ye, my Whole, ay, call! Go, call him by his name; No fitter hand may crave To light the flame of a soldier's fame, HOOD. THE ELM TREE.-A DREAM IN THE WOODS. "And this our life, exempt from public haunt, Finds tongues in trees!"-As you Like it. PART I. TWAS in a shady Avenue, Where lofty Elms abound And from a Tree There came to me That sometimes murmur'd overhead, Amongst the leaves it seemed to sigh, It mutter'd in the stem, and then No breeze there was to stir the leaves; No quake of earth to heave the roots, And sometimes underground "Twas in a shady Avenue, Where lofty Elms abound. From poplar, pine, and drooping birch, And fragrant linden trees; E'er hovers round, Unless the vagrant breeze, The music of the merry bird, Or hum of busy bees. But busy bees forsake the Elm The finch was in the hawthorn-bush, And among the firs the brooding dove, That else might murmur soft. Yet still I heard that solemn sound, And sad it was to boot, From ev'ry overhanging bough, And each minuter shoot; From rugged trunk and mossy rind, From these, a melancholy moan; As if the boughs were wintry bare, No sign or touch of stirring air The zephyr had not breath enough The thistle-down to swerve, Or force the filmy gossamers To take another curve. In still and silent slumber hush'd From heaven above, or earth beneath, From that MYSTERIOUS TREE! A hollow, hollow, hollow sound, When distant billows boil and bound But the ocean brim was far aloof, No murmur of the gusty sea, The bounded sense could reachMethought the trees in mystic tongue Were talking each to each!— Mayhap, rehearsing ancient tales Or blood obscurely spilt; Or of that near-hand Mansion House A royal Tudor built. With wary eyes, and ears alert, As one who walks afraid, I wander'd down the dappled path |