Now calm as strong, and clear as summer air, Blessing and blest of earth and sky, he glides: Now on some rock-ridge rends his bosom fair, And foams with cloudy wrath and hissing tides: Then with full flood of level-gliding force, His discord-blended melody murmurs low Down the long seaward course:-- So through Time's mead, great River, greatly glide: Whither, thou may'st not know:--but He, who knows, will guide. St. 3 Sketches Prehistoric England. St. 4 _Mile-paths_; old English name for Roman roads. St. 5 _Tree and flower_; such are reported to have been naturalized in England by the Romans.--_Northern ramparts_; that of Agricola and Lollius Urbicus from Forth to Clyde, and the greater work of Hadrian and Severus between Tyne and Solway. St. 6, 7 The Arthurian legends,--now revivified for us by Tennyson's magnificent _Idylls of the King_,--form the visionary links in our history between the decline of the Roman power and the earlier days of the Saxon conquest. St. 9 _Villagedom_; Angles and Saxons seem at first to have burned the larger towns of the Romanized Britons and left them deserted, in favour of village-life. St. 11 _Village-moot_: Held on a little hill or round a sacred tree: 'the ealdermen spoke, groups of freemen stood round, clashing shields in applause, settling matters by loud shouts of _Aye_ or _Nay_.' (J. R. Green, _History of the English People_). St. 12 Balder, the God of Light, like Adonis in the old Greek story, is a nature-myth, figuring the Sun, yearly dying in winter, and yearly restored to life. St. 13 _Landeyda_; Name of Danish banner: 'the desolation of the land.' For further details upon points briefly noticed in this _Prelude_, readers are referred to Mr. J. R. Green's _History_, and to Mr. T. Wright's _The Celt_, _The Roman_, and _The Saxon_, as sources readily accessible. THE FIRST AND LAST LAND _AT SENNEN_ Thrice-blest, alone with Nature!--here, where gray Belerium fronts the spray Smiting the bastion'd crags through centuries flown, While, 'neath the hissing surge, Ocean sends up a deep, deep undertone, As though his heavy chariot-wheels went round: Nor is there other sound Save from the abyss of air, a plaintive note, The seabirds' calling cry, As 'gainst the wind with well-poised weight they float, Or on some white-fringed reef set up their post, And sentinel the coast:-- Whilst, round each jutting cape, in pillar'd file, The lichen-bearded rocks Like hoary giants guard the sacred Isle. --Happy, alone with Nature thus!--Yet here Dim, primal man is near;-- The hawk-eyed eager traders, who of yore Through long Biscayan waves Star-steer'd adventurous from the Iberic shore Or the Sidonian, with their fragrant freight Oil-olive, fig, and date; Jars of dark sunburnt wine, flax-woven robes, Or Tyrian azure glass Wavy with gold, and agate-banded globes:--