ph grim were thrown.

And while as yet the soil was wet with that poor witch's gore,
A lime-tree stake did Ranulph take, and pierced her bosom's core;
And, strange to tell, what next befell!--that branch at once took root,
And richly fed, within its bed, strong suckers forth did shoot.

From year to year fresh boughs appear--it waxes huge in size;
And, with wild glee, this prodigy Sir Ranulph grim espies.
One day, when he, beneath that tree, reclined in joy and pride,
A branch was found upon the ground--the next, Sir Ranulph died!

And from that hour a fatal power has ruled that Wizard Tree,
To Ranulph's line a warning sign of doom and destiny:
For when a bough is found, I trow, beneath its shade to lie,
Ere suns shall rise thrice in the skies a Rookwood sure shall die!

"And such an omen preceded Sir Piers's demise?" said Luke, who had
listened with some attention to his grandsire's song.

"Unquestionably," replied the sexton. "Not longer ago than Tuesday
morning, I happened to be sauntering down the avenue I have just
described. I know not what took me thither at that early hour, but I
wandered leisurely on till I came nigh the Wizard Lime-Tree. Great
Heaven! what a surprise awaited me! a huge branch lay right across the
path. It had evidently just fallen, for the leaves were green and
unwithered; the sap still oozed from the splintered wood; and there was
neither trace of knife nor hatchet on the bark. I looked up among the
boughs to mark the spot from whence it had been torn by the hand of
Fate--for no human hand had done it--and saw the pair of ancestral
ravens perched amid the foliage, and croaking as those carrion fowl are
wont to do when they scent a carcass afar off. Just then a livelier
sound saluted my ears. The cheering cry of a pack of hounds resounded
from the courts, and the great gates being thrown open, out issued Sir
Piers, attended by a troop of his roystering companions, all on
horseback, and all making the welkin ring with their vociferations. Sir
Piers laughed as loudly as the rest, but his mirth was speedily checked.
No sooner had his horse--old Rook, his favorite steed, who never swerved
at stake or pale before--set eyes upon the accursed branch, than he
started as if the fiend stood before him, and, rearing backwards, flung
his rider from the saddle. At this moment, with loud screams, the wizard
ravens took flight. Sir Piers was somewhat hurt b