For a MONUMENT at SILBURY-HILL.
This mound in some remote and dateless day
Rear'd o'er a Chieftain of the Age [1] of Hills,
May here detain thee Traveller! from thy road
Not idly lingering. In his narrow house
Some Warrior sleeps below: his gallant deeds
Haply at many a solemn festival
The Bard has harp'd, but perish'd is the song
Of praise, as o'er these bleak and barren downs
The wind that passes and is heard no more.
Go Traveller on thy way, and contemplate
Glory's brief pageant, and remember then
That one good deed was never wrought in vain.
[Footnote 1: The Northern Nations distinguished the two periods when the
bodies of the dead were consumed by fire, and when they were buried
beneath the tumuli so common in this country, by the Age of Fire and the
Age of Hills.]