We had penciled for our Supplement the following beautiful lines from
Mr. Watts's "Literary Souvenir," but they will be more in place here.
_Silbury_ is an immense mound adjoining the road to Devizes, and
opposite Abury; Sir R.C. Hoare thinks it part of Abury; but H. and
many others think it the sepulchre of a King or Arch-Druid.

SILBURY HILL.

Grave of Cunedha, were it vain to call
For one wild lay of all that buried lie
Beneath thy giant mound? From Tara's hall
Faint warblings yet are heard, faint echoes die
Among the Hebrides: the ghost that sung
In Ossian's ear, yet wails in feeble cry
On Morvern: but the harmonies that rung
Around the grove and cromlech, never more
Shall visit earth: for ages have unstrung
The Druid's harp, and shrouded all his lore,
Where under the world's ruin sleep in gloom
The secrets of the flood,--the letter'd store,
Which Seth's memorial pillars from the doom
Preserved not, when the sleep was Nature's tomb.

H.

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