John Kenyon - Rufus's Tree lyrics

O'er the New Forest's heath-hills bare, Down steep ravine, by shaggy wood, A pilgrim wandered; questing where The relic-tree of Rufus stood. Whence, in our England's day of old, Rushing on retribution's wing, The arrow—so tradition told— Glanced to the heart of tyrant-king. Some monument he found, which spoke What erst had happen'd on the spot; But, for that old avenging oak, Decayed long since, he found it not. Yet aye, where tyrants grind a land, Let trees, like this, be found to grow; And never may a Tyrrel's hand Be lacking there—to twang the bow!