Beneath thy maiden sod.
And then an almost hopeless wish
Would creep within my breast,
Oh! could I live to see thy top
In all its beauty dress'd.
That time's arrived; I've had my wish,
And lived to eighty-five;
I'll thank my God who gave such grace
As long as e'er I live.
Still when the morning sun in Spring,
Whilst I enjoy my sight,
Shall gild thy new-clothed Beech and sides,
I'll view thee with delight."

Chanctonbury must have had an overpowering effect on our ancestors; the
correspondent quoted below perhaps saw the hill through one of the
mists which come in from the sea and render every object monstrous or
mysterious.

"Chanckbury, the Wrekin or Cenis of the South Downs, is said to be
1,000 _perpendicular yards_ above the level of the sea; on the summum
jugum, or vertex, is a ring of trees planted by Mr. Goring of Whiston,
and if they were arrived at maturity, would form no indifferent
imitation of an ancient Druidical grove." (_Gentleman's Magazine_,
1819.)

The descent from the ring is made past a pond whose origin is unknown;
judging by its appearance it may well have supplied the men who first
occupied the fortifications on the hill top. The white path below
eventually leads, by a narrow and steep gully, very slippery after