n their hats and falcons on their hands,
riding through the greenwood; it heard the horns of the huntsmen, and
the baying of the hounds; it saw the enemies' troops, with their
various uniforms, their polished armour, their lances and halberds,
pitch their tents and take them down again; the watch-fires blazed,
and the soldiers sang and slept under the sheltering branches of the
tree. It beheld lovers meet in the soft moonlight, and cut their
names--that first letter--upon its olive-green bark. Guitars and
AEolian harps were again--but there were very many years between
them--hung up on the boughs of the tree by gay travelling swains, and
again their sweet sounds broke on the stillness around. The
wood-pigeons cooed, as if they were describing the feelings of the
tree, and the cuckoo told how many summer days it should yet live.

Then it was as if a new current of life rushed from its lowest roots
up to its highest branches, even to the farthest leaves; the tree felt
that it extended itself therewith, yet it perceived that its roots
down in the ground were also full of life and warmth; it felt its
strength increasing, and that it was growing taller and taller. The
trunk shot up--there was no pause--more and more it grew--its head
became fuller, broader--and as the tree grew it became happier, and
its desire increased to rise up still higher, even until it could
reach the warm, blazing sun.

Already had it mounted above the clouds, which, like multitudes of
dark migratory birds, or flocks of white swans, were floating under
it; and every leaf of the tree that had eyes could see. The stars
became visible during the day, and looked so large and bright: each of
them shone like a pair of mild, clear eyes. They might have recalled
to memory dear, well-known eyes--the eyes of children--the eyes of
lovers when they met beneath the tree.

It was a moment of exquisite delight. Yet in the midst of its pleasure
it felt a desire, a longing that all the other trees in the wood
beneath--all the bushes, plants, and flowers--might be able to lift
themselves like it, and to participate in its joyful and triumphant
feelings. The mighty oak tree, in the midst of its glorious dream,
could not be entirely happy unless it had all its old friends with it,
great and small; and this feeling pervaded every branch and leaf of
the tree as strongly as if it had lived in the breast of a human
being.

The summit of the tree moved about as if it mi