Ere Julius landed on the white-cliffed shore,
The sacred structures were delivered o'er
To utter desolation, whence I ween
A general doubt prevails if such have ever been.
Where be the Temples which in Britain's Isle,
As legends tell, the Trojan Founder reared?
Gone like a dream of morning, or a pile
{ Of glittering clouds that in the East appeared. }
{ Of gorgeous clouds that in the west appeared. }