Classic Poem

Forester ! leave thy woodland range,
And hie thee hence with me;
For brighter scenes and pleasures strange,
Forsake thy greenwood tree.
Come, gather thy cloak above the knee,
And take thy tall staff down,
I'll shew thee what delights they be
That dwell in tow'r and town.

Nay, stranger, check thy bright bay steed,
To sojourn with me here;
And turn him forth at large to feed,
Amongst these dappled deer:
And thou, while summer skies are clear,
Within my greenwood bower,
Shalt scorn the pleasures once so dear,
That dwell in town and tow'r.

Well may I find a better home,
My steed a warmer stall,
I know full many a lordly dome,
Full many a palace hall;
Where stately rows of columns tall,
The fretted roof sustain,
Then, Forester, yield thee to my call,
And follow me o'er the plain.

Doth lofty roof delight thy eye,
Or stately pillar please?
Look, stranger, at yon azure sky,
And pillars such as these —
Where, wreathing round majestic trees,
The verdant ivy clings;
The pillar'd roofs, the peasant sees,
Are fit to shelter kings.

O, who would to the greenwood roam,
To hear the hautboy's sound,
To see the glittering goblets foam,
While mellow pledge goes round;
Then, while our cares in wine are drown'd,
The precious stake to hold;
And find our varying fortunes crown'd
With heaps of yellow gold?

Stranger! the woodman's frugal fare,
No sickly riots stain;
Nor ever hautboy's artful air,
Might match yon throstle's strain:
And, if the stores of ample gain,
Thy useful avarice crave,
Go, stranger, teach the ruddy grain
O'er yonder wastes to wave.

Nay, rather to my lady love,
My courtly lays I'll sing;
And in my helmet wear her glove,
When gallants ride the ring:
Or foremost in the battle spring,
Where charging squadrons meet;
And all my warlike trophies bring
An offering to her feet.

Falsehood in beauty lies conceal'd,
Guilt haunts the deadly fight;
Here woods a harmless warfare yield,
And maids their true-love plight —
Such simple joys of rustic wight,
To thee 'twere vain to tell;
But heavily fall the shades of night —
Now, stranger, fare thee well.

Forester ! leave thy woodland range,
And hie thee hence with me;
For brighter scenes and pleasures strange,
Forsake thy greenwood tree.
Come, gather thy cloak above the knee,
And take thy tall staff down,
I'll shew thee what delights they be
That dwell in tow'r and town.

Nay, stranger, check thy bright bay steed,
To sojourn with me here;
And turn him forth at large to feed,
Amongst these dappled deer:
And thou, while summer skies are clear,
Within my greenwood bower,
Shalt scorn the pleasures once so dear,
That dwell in town and tow'r.

Well may I find a better home,
My steed a warmer stall,
I know full many a lordly dome,
Full many a palace hall;
Where stately rows of columns tall,
The fretted roof sustain,
Then, Forester, yield thee to my call,
And follow me o'er the plain.

Doth lofty roof delight thy eye,
Or stately pillar please?
Look, stranger, at yon azure sky,
And pillars such as these —
Where, wreathing round majestic trees,
The verdant ivy clings;
The pillar'd roofs, the peasant sees,
Are fit to shelter kings.

O, who would to the greenwood roam,
To hear the hautboy's sound,
To see the glittering goblets foam,
While mellow pledge goes round;
Then, while our cares in wine are drown'd,
The precious stake to hold;
And find our varying fortunes crown'd
With heaps of yellow gold?

Stranger! the woodman's frugal fare,
No sickly riots stain;
Nor ever hautboy's artful air,
Might match yon throstle's strain:
And, if the stores of ample gain,
Thy useful avarice crave,
Go, stranger, teach the ruddy grain
O'er yonder wastes to wave.

Nay, rather to my lady love,
My courtly lays I'll sing;
And in my helmet wear her glove,
When gallants ride the ring:
Or foremost in the battle spring,
Where charging squadrons meet;
And all my warlike trophies bring
An offering to her feet.

Falsehood in beauty lies conceal'd,
Guilt haunts the deadly fight;
Here woods a harmless warfare yield,
And maids their true-love plight —
Such simple joys of rustic wight,
To thee 'twere vain to tell;
But heavily fall the shades of night —
Now, stranger, fare thee well.