"'Twas on this spot some thousand years ago, 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. III. "Land of the South! Oh, lovely land of song! And is my dwelling by thy classic streams; And is the fate so fondly wished and long, Mine in the fullest measure of my dreams,-- By thy green hills and sunny glades to roam, To live among thy happy shepherd swains Where now the peaceful virtues have their home; A blissful lot! nor aught of grief remains Save for that friend, beloved, bewailed, revered, To whom my heart for thrice ten years was bound By truest love and gratitude endeared: The glory of his land, in whom were found Genius unmatched, and mastery of the soul, Beyond all human wight, save Shakspeare's own controul." F.S.A. L. & E. * * * * * NOTES ON CUNNINGHAM'S HANDBOOK FOR LONDON.