‘In the pale air sublime,
St Giles’s column rears its ancient head,
Whose builders many a century ago
Were mouldered into dust. Now, O my soul,
Be filled with sacred awe—I tread
Above our brave forgotten ancestors. Here lie
Those who in ancient days the kingdom ruled,
The counsellors and favourites of kings,
High lords and courtly dames, and valiant chiefs,
Mingling their dust with those of lowest rank