The Roman Dyke.
AAH! frail memorial of a thousand years!Thou seem’st a stranger in a foreign land:No pitying hand thy fragments, fall’n, uprears,But useless, graceless, thou art left to stand.And yet, across this foggy, rain-slash’d wall,The savage tatoo’d Caledonians slew,With gory club, the high-nosed Romans, whoWith joy retreated at Antonius’ call.That stone which now I touch has handled beenBy brawny Romans, who, in Latin talkedOf their fantastic foes, as, oft-times seen,With sacred tramp of liberty they stalked.And have they e’er been slaves? that dyke shall tell:The Romans, Saxons, Southrons, Swedes, they’ve braved,And, like proud eagles, scorned to be enslaved;As freemen now they stand—as freemen then they fell.On that side scorn the paths of slavery;Here—kiss the hallowed dust of Liberty!
AAH! frail memorial of a thousand years!Thou seem’st a stranger in a foreign land:No pitying hand thy fragments, fall’n, uprears,But useless, graceless, thou art left to stand.And yet, across this foggy, rain-slash’d wall,The savage tatoo’d Caledonians slew,With gory club, the high-nosed Romans, whoWith joy retreated at Antonius’ call.That stone which now I touch has handled beenBy brawny Romans, who, in Latin talkedOf their fantastic foes, as, oft-times seen,With sacred tramp of liberty they stalked.And have they e’er been slaves? that dyke shall tell:The Romans, Saxons, Southrons, Swedes, they’ve braved,And, like proud eagles, scorned to be enslaved;As freemen now they stand—as freemen then they fell.On that side scorn the paths of slavery;Here—kiss the hallowed dust of Liberty!
AAH! frail memorial of a thousand years!Thou seem’st a stranger in a foreign land:No pitying hand thy fragments, fall’n, uprears,But useless, graceless, thou art left to stand.And yet, across this foggy, rain-slash’d wall,The savage tatoo’d Caledonians slew,With gory club, the high-nosed Romans, whoWith joy retreated at Antonius’ call.That stone which now I touch has handled beenBy brawny Romans, who, in Latin talkedOf their fantastic foes, as, oft-times seen,With sacred tramp of liberty they stalked.And have they e’er been slaves? that dyke shall tell:The Romans, Saxons, Southrons, Swedes, they’ve braved,And, like proud eagles, scorned to be enslaved;As freemen now they stand—as freemen then they fell.On that side scorn the paths of slavery;Here—kiss the hallowed dust of Liberty!
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