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.]