Of Dykes and Camps, from the far distant date
When minstrel Druids wak'd the soul of War,
And rous'd to arms old Albion's hardy sons,
To stem the tide of Roman Tyranny: ...
War's footsteps, thus imprinted on the ground,
Shew that in Britain he, from age to age,
Has rear'd his horrid head, and raging reign'd.
Long on the margins of the silver Tweed
Opposing Ensigns wav'd; War's clarion
Dreadfully echo'd down the winding stream,