Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine, Volume 67, Number 414, April, 1850 :: THE DWARF AND THE OAK TREE. A VISION OF 1850. I. Within the

THE DWARF AND THE OAK TREE. A VISION OF 1850. I. Within the

THE DWARF AND THE OAK TREE. A VISION OF 1850. I. Within the greenwood as I walked, Upon a summer's day, I saw a vision wonderful, That filled me with dismay. Beneath the spreading shadow Of a tall and stately tree, Was a band of porkers gathered, Grunting fierce as fierce could be. They were rough and bristly monsters, With an aspect most obscene; And they trampled to a dunghill All the fair and comely green. Hideous tusks, and sharply whetted, Did the savage creatures bear; And their flanks were thick incrusted With the droppings of their lair. II. Above, the mighty branches spread From out the parent stem; And lo! I saw a Mannikin High perched on one of them. His face was pale, his cheeks were white; He sate in utter woe; It seemed he durst not venture down, For fear of those below. But anon he shook the branches, And down the acorns fell, And then the beasts rushed forward, Each with a horrid yell. Right sharp and savage was the grunt, Though plentiful the food: So sate the lonely Mannikin Within the lonely wood. III. But as I tarried, wondering much To see the little man, A gleam of light came o'er his face; It seemed some cunning plan Rose up within him, for he grinned And nodded to himself, Then grinned again and chuckled, Like a sly and naughty elf. And then I marked him, stealthily From out his belt withdraw A weapon in the morning light, That glittered like a saw; And straight astride a heavy branch Right nimbly clambered he, And sawed away most busily, Between him and the tree!

IV.

Then longer from accosting him
I could not well forbear—
"What, ho, thou foolish Mannikin!
What art thou doing there?
A little deeper, and 'tis plain
The branch must downward go,
And down with it the carpenter
Unto the beasts below!"
Then answered back the Mannikin—
"Aha! I'm light and strong:
You'll see me scramble higher up,
And higher yet ere long.
But first this branch I sever, just
To please the hungry swine;
And then I'll lop another off—
For that's a scheme of mine!"

V.

"Forbear, thou naughty Mannikin!"
'Twas thus again I spoke—
"Who was't gave thee the liberty
To lop that stately oak?
In strength and glory it hath stood
A thousand years and more,
Still spreading forth its mighty arms,
As proudly as of yore.
What tree hath ever matched it yet
For majesty of form?
Or yielded such a sure defence
From heat, or rain, or storm?
Though tempests often round it swept,
It still hath bravely stood,
Nor ever stooped its shapely crest—
That monarch of the wood!

VI.

"And thou, an ape-like atomy,
Perched up within the tree!
Shall its fair limbs be lopped away
By such a dwarf as thee?"
Yet chattered still the Mannikin—
"Down, down, the branch must go!
The pigs demand the sacrifice—
They're watching me below.
See—see! they're grunting upwards! ah,
They bare their tusks at me!
For rather than offend my swine
I would uproot the tree.
Hush—hush, my darlings! Hush, my dears!
Here's plenty food for you—
A moment's patience, and 'tis done;
The branch is nearly through!"

VII.

"Have done, thou wicked Mannikin,
And hold that hand of thine;
I marvel what Ulysses 'twas
Set thee to keep the swine!
If from that noble forest-tree
Thou loppest every shoot,
Where, when another autumn comes,
Will be the needful fruit?
'Tis well to feed thy bristly herd,
Ay, feed them to the fill;
But leave the oak-tree unprofaned
With all its branches still:
Lest, when the swine have eaten all
The food that thou canst send,
They take a horrid fancy next
To dine on thee, my friend!"

VIII.

'Twas thus I spoke in warning. Still
The Mannikin said, "Nay!"
But ever chattered busily,
And ever sawed away.
I marked the branch declining fast,
Its fibres creaking sore:
I heard the grunting of the beasts
Still fiercer than before.
High up into the air was thrown
Each grim uncleanly snout,
With wriggling tails and cloven hoofs
They galloped all about.
They flung the mire and pebbles up,
In their unholy glee,
And held a Satan's carnival
Beneath the fated tree!

IX.

But as I gazed in wonderment,
The sky grew dark above;
A whirlwind sharp and fitfully
Among the branches drove;
There was swaying, shrieking, groaning,
Throughout the forest wide,
And the hurricane came downward
With an angry angel's stride.
Then, right across the welkin, shot
The red and dazzling levin,
And the thunder brattled growlingly
Within the dome of heaven.
'Twere better in an hour like that
Far off at home to be,
Than watching silly Mannikins
Upon the greenwood tree!

X.

The first flash scared the porkers;
Their nasal snort grew still—
The second sent them cowering;
As low-bred monsters will—
The third with triple fervency,
And answering peal broke out;
Then helter-skelter from the tree
Rushed forth the filthy rout.
I looked up for my Mannikin—
I saw him clinging there
To branch and twig, to bark and bough,
The image of despair.
And ever as the gust blew strong,
He clutched with desperate paw,
And wildly chattered in affright—
"The foul fiend take the saw!"

XI.

By Tamworth town a hermit dwells,
Who riddles strange can read;
A wizard once of dreaded power,
And versed in many a creed.
Of Michael Scott no wilder tales
Have ever yet been told:
Men say he knew the wond'rous art
Of multiplying gold.
But now his magic wand is broke,
His tricksy spirits gone,
And on a backward bench he sits,
Forsaken and alone.
To him I went, and told him straight
The things that I had seen!
"O holy man, I pray thee say,
What may this vision mean?"

XII.

The hermit smiled—he stroked his chin—
Then quaintly answered he,
"There's something very singular
Connected with that tree!
Once on a time, when bark was dear,
The boughs I thought to peel,
But that same hurricane arose
And tossed me head o'er heel.
I think the oak will last my time—
But hark! I hear the bell!"
With his left hand he crossed himself,
Then slid into his cell.
But what the herd of porkers were,
He never told to me;
Nor who might be the mannikin
Was sawing at the TREE.

Clyx.com