And midst the eternal cliffs, whose strength defied
The crested Roman, in his hour of pride;
And where the Carnedd,[251] on its lonely hill,
Bore silent record of the mighty still;
And where the Druid’s ancient Cromlech[252] frown’d,
And the oaks breathed mysterious murmurs round.
There throng’d th’ inspired of yore!—on plain or height,
In the sun’s face, beneath the eye of light,
And, baring unto heaven each noble head,
Stood in the circle, where none else might tread.