Amid the silence of its hoary wood
By sound unbroken, save the Teviot's flow,
The lonely Temple of the Druids stood! {450}
The conquering Roman when he urged his way,
That led to triumph, through the neighbouring plain,
And oped the gloomy grove to glare of day,
Awe-stricken gazed, and spared the sacred fane!
One stone of all its circle now remains,
Saved from the modern Goth's destructive hand;
And by its side I muse: and Fancy reigns;
And giant oaks on Pennial waving stand;
With snowy robe and flowing bears sweep bye
The aged Druid-train beneath the star-lit sky.

II.

"The Druid-train has moved into the wood,
Oh! draw a veil before the hideous scene!
For theirs were offerings of human blood,
With sound of trump and shriek of fear between:
Their sacred grove is fallen, their creed is gone;
And record none remains save this gray stone!
Then come the warlike Saxons; and the years
Roll on in conflict: and the pirate Dane
Uprears his Bloody raven; and his spears
Bristling upon the Broadlaw summit's plain
Spread terror o'er the vale: and still rude times
Succeed; and Border feuds with conflagration light
Nightly, the Teviot's wave, and ceaseless crimes
Chase from the holy towers their inmates in affright.