Dreams of life : miscellaneous poems / Timothy Thomas Fortune [electronic text]

BYRON'S OAK AT NEWSTEAD ABBEY.

Through thy battlements, Newstead, the hollow winds whistle;Thou, the hall of my fathers, art gone to decay;In the once smiling garden, the hemlock and thistleHave choked up the rose that once bloomed in the way.

Lord Byron (1803)

The little twig that Byron planted here, In manhood's hope and early prime, The twig he gave his constant love and care In Britain's far-famed classic clime, Has grown to be a towering, stalwart tree;— But Byron, master mind, O where is he!

And Newstead Abbey, where he lived and dreamed, Still marks the sacred precincts well; But long ago the stranger's banners streamed O'er towers where Byron's heart did swell! His lofty oak, with arms outstretched to God, Speaks for the Bard—as Missolonghi's sod.

Old Newstead and its giant oak may stand The fury of the storm and age, But they must both decay, ere Byron's wand Shall lose its power of love and rage! Ere from the human heart shall fade away The magic spell he breathed in life's short day!

I love him well, this wayward child of song, Whose life in all was passing strange; With mind so bitter sweet, so weak, so strong— With power to soothe, to charm, estrange;— Within his grasp the harp was made to flow The sweetest, saddest notes the heart can know!

And he will live when Newstead and its tree Have crumbled back to mother dust; His name is linked with song and liberty, And time such fame can never rust! E'en Albion's glorious name must pale and wane, While Byron's fame through endless time will reign!

Notes

• NOTE—The oak tree planted by Lord Byron at Newstead Abbey is large and flourishing, although the alder on which be cut the names "Byron and Augusta" have long since died. The portion of the tree on which the names were carved is preserved among the treasures mementoes of the poet in the Abbey. The tree planted by Dr. Livingstone is on the lawn, as well as the one planted by Stanley. The present owner of Newstead was the one white friend and bosom companion of Livingstone during his years of wonderful work in Africa. This Colonel Webb, who bought the Abbey of Colonel Wildman, the wealthy West Indian planter who bought it of Lord Byron, is the man who saved Livingstone's life by shooting the lion, which, after fearfully mutilating him, still stood over his prostrate body.