Your memories that cannot keep their own!
And whereto serves that wondrous trophy now,
That on the goodly plain near Wilton stands?
That huge dumb heap, that cannot tell us how,
Nor what, nor whence it is, nor with whose hands,
Nor for whose glory it was set to show,
How much our pride mocks that of other lands.
Whereon when as the gazing passenger
Hath greedy look’d with admiration,
And fain would know its birth, and what it were,