See we the looks of those old “others”:
The men in yonder humped-up barrow,
Crouched with their mortal joys and sorrow;
The Roman soldier sound asleep
By walls where English weeds slow creep
(A thousand years are but a span ...):
Each dead man was a Gloucestershire man!
A BALLADE OF GLOUCESTERSHIRE TOWNS
Or ever in Cheltenham town dyspeptic flaunted
His finery, or steel-clad Normans came