The sainted Edmund, sought thy sheltering hold,
When the proud Dane, fierce Hinguar, in his ire
Besieged the king, and wrapped thy walls in fire,
While Edmund fled, but left thee with his name
Linked, and for ever, to the chain of fame:
Then wast thou great! and long, in after years
Thy grandeur shone—thy portraiture appears
From history's pencil like a summer-night,
With much of shadow, but with more of light!
Pile of departed days!—my verse records,