University of Virginia Library

Come thou, to nature just, by truth design'd,
Who add'st the grace that ornaments the mind;
Whom the frail nymphs and vestals woes pourtray'd,
Virtue too thoughtless cloister'd or betray'd;
Pathetic drawn, without a trait austere;
This drops the pensive, that the contrite tear,
On lays where virtue beams a ray divine,
While gentle pity breathes through every line.
Now thine to bid th'ennobling passions rise,
And with kind pathos point them to their skies.
What tho' thy song the living virtues raise,
Aid me to pierce the shade of ancient days:
The ereas lost, assist me to regain;
Thou, wrapt in song amidst the sylvan reign:
Where late the waste, with dreary visage frown'd,
Where capt'ring beauty now asserts the ground.
Where groves, glades, lawns, her sovereign smiles obey,
Yet for her reign their willing homage pay
To Jerningham , who bade those beeches rise,
Stretch out their living arms and fan the skies.
There morn's first minstrels in their shades convene,
There lift their rapturous anthem o'er the scene;
There eve's plum'd poet glads the starry sphere,
'Till night her poppies drops entranc'd to hear,
Leave their congenial song, come aid my lays;
And pierce with me the shade of ancient days.
O come, and wrapt o'er fleeting time, disclose
How, and from whom, th'unperish'd dome arose.
Place the rough heroes round their lasting fane,
Whose date the antique sage hath sought in vain;
Which braves the wreck of time and swift decay,
That sweeps the labour'd domes of man away.
Time, that from brass doth characters efface,
And drops the cloud-hid turret to its base,
Throws the symetric temple to the ground,
Its scite forgot, nor marble columns found:
Its proud, its votive tablets long decay'd,
With acts of gods and heroes there display'd;
Perish'd those gods, with their imputed line
Of demi-gods, ensculptur'd round their shrine.
Even science would a prouder claim assume,
How vain! to plan, to rear the immortal dome;
While this rude pile hath countless ages stood,
The sap of time, and stemm'd oblivion's flood;
Till wild conjecture fancied powers has brought,
To trace where science feels its vanquish'd thought;
That powers unseen had fix'd th'unweildy dome,
Or the earth heav'd it fashion'd from her womb,
Or Merlin's self, or greater sage unknown,
Had call'd his fiends, and built the magic throne.
Even modern art, which every science owns,
Confounded scans the ungovernable stones;
Knows not if nature form'd, or art had made,
But quits the ponderous theme enwrapt in shade.
Mysterious circles! from your gloom'd recess,
The priest, perchance, the implicit train might bless;
For furious Odin might obtest the skies,
And bless a hecatomb for sacrifice.
Obsequious chiefs devote their herds to bleed,
Their gods immortal feast, the promis'd meed;
Or, foe to blood, some Druid bade them spare
The gazing hind and conscious bird of air:
From these to those the soul transmitted goes,
And an immortal change the spirit knows.
While from this fane, just opening to the skies,
Their mystic rites and hid oblations rise,
Still by what powers rais'd remains unshewn;
Nature's august retreats are better known.
Rocks from a slender base stupendous rise,
Pierce the grey dawn, and mingle with the skies.
Caves, that like ancient domes sublime ascend,
Whose length'ning shafts from awful roofs depend.
'Midst fretted arches gothic spires protrude,
There chanting echos still the multitude.
Or subterranean palace darts surprize;
As flaming tapers throw the minerals dyes,
Voluted columns snatch the vivid light,
And streaming radiance fascinates the sight.
Here, here, great nature, from an obvious throne,
Asserts a majesty confess'd her own.
While baffled science can no powers descry,
No line, no figures, Euclid's lore supply,
To shew what rais'd this quarry from the ground,
Or mortal art that swell'd the huge compound.
Yet, rudely great, from human art it sprung,
These founded rocks, with mortic'd rocks o'erhung.
Yes; those can solve who saw the maniac train,
Saw raging throngs, impell'd by frantic brain,
Augusta's lawless crowds , who fierce assail'd
Her iron domes, and o'er those domes prevail'd.
Nor walls oppos'd, nor chain, nor bolt controul'd
The mad'ning fury, strength'ning as it roll'd.
If rage tumultuous can such powers obtain,
What may not warmth from sanction'd virtue gain?
Where public acts the patriot voice requires,
And fann'd the flame which emulation fires.
Union of hands, with band to band conjoin'd,
Prompt to one act the universal mind.
Even patriot rapture nerves the listless frame,
In nations leagu'd with violence for fame;
Whose fervid effort can a purpose gain,
Which cool inductive reason deem'd as vain.
Even those brave Britons, tho' in time o'ercome,
Who foil'd the force of Cæsar and of Rome,
Who rush'd impetuous on their strong array,
And struck the unconquer'd legions with dismay,
Might in a nation consummate at length,
What mocks our graphic skill and shackled strength;
Might in a nation all its tribes convene,
With hallow'd rites to sanctify the scene.
While thus I muse, my fancy wings its flight,
Led by a ray which shoots the realm of night,
To rescue from the oblivion of her reign
The long lost race, that trod this sacred plain.
A living host the abstracted thoughts supply,
And peopled scenes are present to my eye.
At the dawn's verge, see, gath'ring nations blend,
As waves o'er waves at visions length extend!
Disparting now, the countless train appears,
And their strong hails in murmurs meet my ears.
Conspicuous now, I see the varied train,
The group'd procession length'ning o'er the plain.
Hark! in their front the attuning minstrels play,
Commixt with Bards who troll the memory'd lay.
In song canorous tell the warriors deed,
The ancestors of sons they now precede.
Lo, there those sons with tawny wolve-skins bound,
With thongs from hides of bulls encompass'd round,
The temper'd skin of seals a helmet spreads,
The raven's plumage nodding o'er their heads.
Each tribe its Chief an eagle's plume allows,
The hostile pounce projecting o'er his brows.
With spears revers'd and daggers sheath'd they come,
And file their silent squadrons round the dome.
Suspended now the adulatory strain,
While slow approach the Druids awful train;
In long depending vest that sweeps the ground,
From sacred flocks their earliest fleeces wound.
Shorn in the due, the planetary hour,
When moons propitious shone with sovereign pow'r.
A hallow'd song the minstrel band record,
Now paus'd the voice, now intermits the chord,
Now the smote vase repeats its sounding blows,
And the full chorus its loud clarion throws.
To Heav'n with violence they send the lay,
And chant the Druids power that all obey.
Reverent with rested spears the warriors greet,
And spread their wolf-flea'd mantles for their feet;
The glare of fire soft temper'd in their eyes,
And the fierce features lost in sober dies;
The wish foregone, that ask'd th'ensanguin'd plain,
Now blest to consecrate the Druids' reign.
To these succeed the sacerdotal band,
With each a foodful charger borne in hand:
The milk of ewes, when churn'd and when comprest,
And cheering must from woodland fruits exprest;
The sacharine juice, of forest-hives the spoil,
And native pulse, and grain unrais'd by toil;
With fruits spontaneous, now but rarely found,
Since earth hath felt the frequent culturing wound.
Distinguish'd orders yet precede their rear,
Chose from their tribes to celebrate the year.
The painted males of many a varied hue,
Specific of their tribe and genius too.
Consorted follow families conjoin'd;
Their social wives with fruitage boughs entwin'd;
Inwreath'd with purple thyme fresh roses glow,
The fragrant chaplet of the virgin's brow.
Hark! the burst anthem swells its notes around,
And structur'd rocks grow vocal with the sound.
For now the Druids seek their inmost place,
Recess rever'd, forbid but to their race.
Before the rest the regal Pontiff bore
The golden bill, deriv'd from heav'n of yore;
The exulting people mark the boon divine,
And in full praise the adoring nations join;
Their loud acclaim now shakes the welkin round,
And cloud-lost hills reverb'rate back the sound.
To their high priest a reverent train succeed,
With sacred misletoe for rights decreed;
The hallow'd parasites from oaks they drew,
Cut by th'empyreal bill now borne to view.
The druid sisters rais'd the sacred mound,
Their mant'ling coifs with holy fillets bound.
Each in her dexter hand an oak-branch rears,
Whose viscid leaves the etherial honey bears;
Or boles of trees, when blest, with fruit to rise,
Should Heav'n propitious hearken from the skies.
The Pontiff sovereign now that scite ascends,
Where no unhallow'd glance its vision bends;
A sanction'd few their ministry supply,
Save these, unseen by every mortal eye.
Fain would I raise the impenetrable veil,
And bruit those mysteries which the shades conceal:
Those mystic rites not Druids dare unfold,
Enwrap'd from sight and never must be told.
Enough—I see the long processions end,
And through the exterior temple deep'ning blend.
The most rever'd approach the sacred dome,
Yet still behind leave honourable room.
Order to order their due place obtain,
'Till the last circle verges on the plain.
There minstrels, bards, and choiristers surround,
Not yet to bid the song emphatically sound.
Now to their sides the unbreath'd pipes are hung,
No lay yet prompt, and every harp unstrung;
The silent warriors in battalia drawn,
Nor waves an ensign to the peopled lawn.
Mark! hush as death the obsequious people wait,
To learn the future blessings of their state.
Lo, from the sacred front the chief descends,
And with his conclave thro' the temple bends.
A monumental stone its circus holds,
Whose front the far provincial plain unfolds.
Thither he moves, while streamers wave in air,
To bid the throng in order'd ranks repair.
These in deep crescent wait the dread address,
A sacred terror all their minds impress.
Mark, how they Heav'ns great oracle revere,
Half prostrate bend, and tremble while they hear!
“Friends! Britons! subjects of this ancient state!
“Hear Heaven's behest, with reverence of your fate!
“The late atonement which your hands supplied;
“Regains that boon your truant deeds denied.
“Our God ador'd, now condescends to give
“Rules for your conduct, and in him we live.
“First, strict observance of my priests is due,
“What Heav'n reveals to them, is taught to you;
“Our sovereign rule, which yet extended runs
“To you from wives, from servants, and from sons,
“Obedience, is the basis of our state,
“And who depart from that, incur our hate.
“And after death their spirits restless roam
“In birds, or beast of prey, that know no home;
“While future ease awaits the obedient mind,
“In herds, or flocks, they sanctuary find.
“And such asylum, what your fathers know
“From you, your sons in reverence shall bestow.
“Watch well our state, nor let the stranger's art
“Bewray your thoughts, nor steal upon the heart.
“No alien deign in mixture to embrace,
“But your pure blood transmit from race to race.
“Warriors! revere that race, from whence you sprung,
“Whose living names the raptur'd bards have sung.
“On you, as once on them, our state depends—
“To die, transfers the life which never ends;
“Alive to fame, you meet the dart of death,
“Nor heave with painful throes a feverish breath;
“Our country's glory boiling in your breast,
“And rapt in patriot fervour drop to rest.
“But peace is ours; its present joys improve,
“Devote to festive, to paternal love.
“Beyond our circus be your prowess shewn,
“There raise our nation's glory and your own.
“Your squadrons form, the sembling war to wage,
“And without bloodshed bid the battle rage.
“That should the spies from other states be near,
“They fix their future safety in their fear.
“My friends! my children! now your games renew;
“The joy is mine that shall be felt by you.
“The teeming year shall its best fruits bestow;
“Then gratitude shall point to whom you owe;
“The power ador'd to us your weal consigns;
“Receive my blessing, which each Druid joins;”
Silent they bow'd, no murmurs reach'd my ear,
Yet still I list'ned, for I seem'd to hear.
Then acclamations shook the Heaven's around,
And frighted echo bellow'd at the sound.
The soaring bird of heav'n forgot his flight,
And earth receiv'd him instant from his height.
The choral clamour smote the inmost land,
And the rocks rang impending o'er the strand.
Fraternal chiefs for warlike scenes divide,
With each an order'd battle by his side.
Their painted ranks a recent splendour shews,
And from their waist a checquer'd vestment flows.
The shielding target on the shoulder slung,
And by its side the quiver'd arrows hung.
One hand a bow of woodland eugh suspends,
And on the opponent side a blade depends.
Chiefs on the flanks protrude the length'ning spear,
And the prime chieftains on their cars appear,
Those cars, erst scyth'd, had mown the battle down,
What time an alien host had met their frown.
But now the dancing plumes and gorgeous frame
The chief denote, and province whence he came.
Proudly the chiefs their steady feet sustain,
And shake the lance with menace to the plain.
Hark! Bards and Minstrels now record the fame
Of ancestors renown'd, from whence they came;
Unconquer'd chieftains of primeval days,
Honour's first sons, and heirs of deathless praise!
From depth of caves they shaggy monsters drew,
Or sped the dart that fiercer giants slew;
Or rush'd resistless where the battle bled;
Victory still follow'd as their chariots led.
Yet while they sung their peerless fathers gone,
They gloz'd their virtues living in the son.
The chorus wide resound the flatt'ring lays,
Honour's first sons, and heirs of deathless praise!
Hark! the bows twang, the whizzing shafts resound,
Loud as a whirlwind rushing o'er the ground.
See, o'er each front the arching arrows fly,
And meeting shadows veil the beaming sky.
Unbrac'd the bow, from flight succeeding flight,
They poise the shield, and claim the closer fight.
Sound the smote chords, the horns obsteperous blow,
And with grasp'd sword they march to meet the foe.
Here, there, the pikes their length'ning aid combine,
To guard their own and break the opponent line.
Squadrons of cars their intervals contain,
Where horses spurn impatient of the rein;
Less'ned the space, and van defying van,
Shield rais'd to shield, and man oppos'd to man.
With guarded swords the bucklers loud resound,
Or reach their aim, tho' innocent to wound.
Sudden by signal now a line's withdrawn,
And flies promiscuous o'er the sounding lawn.
Alert their chiefs the flying bands restrain,
And form anew upon the smoking plain.
Instant prepar'd the conflict to renew,
And check the apparent victors who pursue.
These, too impetuous pressing on the flight,
In broke array renew the unequal fight.
Straight pikes and cars in force confederate join,
By turns repell'd, and breaking thro' the line.
See, other pikes and other chariots close,
Order seems lost, and all immingled foes.
See, frantic steeds no soothing can allay,
With foaming rage they bear the car away.
No curb they feel, each threat'ning call repell'd,
They throw their chieftains on the embattled field.
See, more experienc'd chiefs their steeds restrain,
And guide the chariots o'er the thundering plain.
By turns receive the attack, by turns pursue,
And make their horses rage subservient to their view.
Now front, now wheel, recede, and then advance,
With steadfast gaze to send the missile lance.
Turn the fierce coursers in their strong career,
The javelin lift, or aim the deathful spear.
Instant to earth now salient on their feet,
Then with a flying vault resume their seat.
In attitude the mortal dart to throw,
Still shielded from the imaginary foe.
Lo! now in cohorts, see, the chariots join,
And rush with fury down the armed line.
Alternate praise the rival squadrons crown'd,
And echoing shouts of triumph roll'd around.
Fast as the shadows flee their coursers sweep,
Like chasing billows foaming o'er the deep;
Or as the torrent roars with downward force,
Or sallying clouds, tempestuous in their course,
With rolling thunder, while the light'nings glance
Gleams from their shield, and shoots along the lance.
Fast rushes to my scite the dread career,
I wish to fly, but gaze appall'd with fear.
Nor can the trembling vision more pourtray;
For all the embattled scenery flies away;
The pomp of long-lost ages all withdrawn,
And but their Temple crowns the naked lawn:
Its visionary nations from it fled,
And those fond scenes delirious fancy shed.
Lo! Sarum's spiery fane attracts my eyes,
And Berk's blue hills in contact with the skies.
Winton's and Dorset's downs in clouds are seen,
And obvious glebes that float with living green.
While yonder tract the whilom aspect bears,
It bore, perchance, milenniums of years;
When countless generations roam'd its space,
The vanquish'd myriads of the human race.
Whom like yon clouds, now ting'd with beams of light,
Flew on their hour, and vanish'd from the sight.
Ages like clouds shall catch the transient ray,
Be bright and fade, and drop from sight away.
Tho' men, tho' ages lapse, as wave to wave,
Swell, sound, and proudly roll, 'till swallow'd in a grave;
Shall from the abyss, thro' pure alembics, flow
A vital essence from the mass below.
The soul of man, ordain'd by heav'n to rise
Thro' truth, thro' love, thro' virtue, to the skies,
The good man's anchor'd hope; nor shall give way
When fame's no more, and clos'd the final day.

Naught of my waking vision now remains,
But these heav'd catacombs that swell the plains.
There slumber those, O Henge, who rais'd thy brow,
To look disdain on arts we boast to know.