Are scouted by the sceptic annalist,
One century at least of crowded glory
Inspires a recent genial eulogist
And prompts a humble rhymer to rehearse
Your merits in a piece of jingling verse.
I pass the Romans, business-like invaders;
Of their enduring traces he that runs
May read elsewhere; I pass the Saxon raiders
And tales of mediæval monks and nuns,
Of leper hospitals and mud-bath waders,