292 



Of roots and derivatives many had he, 

 And of Temple Cloud too th' etymologee." 



With the rest of Sir Richard's antiquarian friends, Mr. Skinner's 

 portrait by Smith ornamented Stourhead. On the 11th of August, 

 1814, Sir Richard Hoare opened a barrow at Avebury, and Mr. 

 Skinner made the day the subject of his verse. The poem is called 

 Beth Pennard ; it has never been printed, although Mr. Douglas 

 in a letter to his friend the author, promises it a favourable recep- 

 tion. I must read yoii a few fragments, not now for the sake of 

 diction and versification, which here and there may be mended, but 

 for the familiarity with Celtic usages there shown, and the illustra- 

 tions it contains of the spirit of the author. 



" Fleeting ages have sped, 

 As light as clouds o'er yon green hillock's head, 

 Which shrouds a chief's remains. 



Serene he sleeps. 



. tho' closing round 

 Contending warriors shook the grovind, 



When charged the scythed car, 

 When Belgic clansmen, vainly brave. 

 Fell choked in blood beside his grave, 



Transfixed by Roman spear. 



And still he slept. Ah ! woe ! the while, 

 E'en while profaning Abury's pile, 



TJnawed by curses dire. 

 Their ruthless hands the hierarch slew, 

 And heaps of willing victims threw 



To glut his altar fire. 



The spirit slept, and slept serene, 

 Tho' once he prized the sacred scene 



Beyond all earthly store ; 

 Treading with awe the serpent's maze. 

 At the huge sarsons oft would gaze. 



Bend lowly and adore !" 



For much he prized the Di-uid band, and often sacrificed on the 

 hallowed stones. 



" Freely he gave, though valued most. 

 For herds exchanged on Cornwall's coast 

 His azure beads of glass. 



