HER PICTURE. I SET thy picture near me, and I gaze And on each feature separately dwell. Till round it grows a halo bright with splendour, -Daughter of Eve, she who when first Creation. Art thou more fair than she, our fair, frail mother-- Or is thy beauty fashioned as that other, Mother of Him they slew upon the tree? Were they more lovely who drew down from heaven Or was she fairer who in ancient story Sat crowned in splendour by the lordly Nile; Oh, these were fair, but thou to me art fairer, Grow still in beauty; keep thy soul unshaken, Till, in the company of angels taken, Round His bright throne resplendent thou dost shine. SEP-EN. FROM WINCHESTER TO STONEHENGE. IV. "Thou noblest monument of Albion's isle ! # Or Druid priests, sprinkled with human gore, * Studious to trace thy wondrous origin, We muse on many an ancient tale renowned."‡ Now for the last stage of my pilgrimage to Britain's earliest temple ! The spare suburbs of Salisbury are soon reached. The lessening spire of the Cathedral becomes the chief landmark looking back, as I take the rising ground, pastoral and thinly populated, leading to Old Sarum. This place, once a city-late a rotten borough, containing, if I remember rightly, the smallest number of voters in any borough in England is not even a village now. Two or three scattered houses make us wonder "What is in a name." But that hill, those two distinct lines of fosse and intrenchment, with the stronghold at the summit, tell a different story. I make my way through the curious entrances, always provided in these ancient British camps, pressing on to the top, only observing the lowering looks of the sullen, evident poachers, who are clearly engaged in snaring ground game in the bush and cover-grown dry ditches. What a strange feeling comes over one as the castle of our distant forefathers is spread before the eye! How, many a time, as the savage warriors gazed over the wide plains, have they watched the invading foe slowly surging in upon them; and how often have these rude but enduring ramparts rolled back the tide of war? We are nearing the central point of a race and a religion, this being one of the outworks of a system of defence for the vital point of creed and independence. "Whether by Merlin's aid," &c.: one of the Bardish traditions about Stonehenge. +"Pendragon:" Uther, Pen-dragon, father of King Arthur; so-called from a dragon which he bore on his helmet. Part of a sonnet written within the Druid circle at Stonehenge, by Dr. Thomas Warton, about a century ago. until with a burst of glory the mighty sun came up; the strange wild chorus arose with the smoke of the burning sacrifice, the multitude of painted warriors fell upon their faces, and the priests acknowledged the splendour of "the beatific vision." These plains now are silent and deserted, save by the chance and curious visitor, or the shepherd or husbandman whose duty lies that way. But its legends last long; and this is one of them, changed, or, if you prefer it, Christianised. These legends had become so engrafted into the minds, thoughts, and customs of the people when Christianity first came among them, that the religious reformers of our early days found it impossible to uproot them. After, in many cases, a long and hopeless struggle with these superstitions, they bethought them of another mode of dealing with them. They did not any longer combat the legend, but they altered its object. Instead of the god of the ancient Briton, seen in the sun on a Midsummer morning, they taught that it was "the Lamb of God that taketh away the sin of the world." The people were content with the change, and so this old legend, transformed in detail, has survived even to this day. Leaving the trusty guide, I try three miles more over the open plain, partly ploughed, partly grazing land, with here and there fenced enclosures where sheep and lambs were more substantially fed. At last, on the ridge of one of the downs, I saw what seemed to be the famous range of stones. One leaning pillar appeared decisive as I closely scanned it through glasses. Still it was so far away that I felt I might be mistaken. The direction did not seem quite correct. If I go there and am wrong I shall lose my train. There is a dairy farm a mile to the right; if I go there I shall lose a mile. Still, better lose one mile than three ! I hasten there and find my bearings are correct. Through a gap in the opposite plantation and all seems clear. Clear, indeed! After leaving the plantation I sink into a basin of plain, which, though apparently level, gradually shuts out the plantation and everything save one tree on the top of the higher ground from which I came. I use that as a guide, but all before me is a rolling sea of plain, covered with short grass. A clear sky, a shining sun, a wide plain, and solitude! A strange silence, a strange distance around. Another half-mile, but no change. I am perplexed. Where is Stonehenge? I should be there now; yet nothing in front but the long level line of plain, nothing around, and the single tree on the distant down at the back has almost receded from view. Am I lost? Slowly rising in front I now see, one on the right hand, the other on the left, two barrows or large mounds. What remains of ancient British kings or mightier priests would these barrows reveal if explored! I pass between them inly musing. Then in the distance I see two more. I pass between these, and then two more in front break the level line of the plain. I think of the avenue of Sphinxes at Thebes as these solemn memorials of a dead past rose two by two on the horizon. But as yet no Stonehenge. Suddenly, rising towards the centre of the plain, a series of these tumuli stretches out to the right and left as forming part of an enormous circle. A level plain appears in front, but after ten minutes' more walking the ancient open temple stands quite near in front of me. It strikes me as disappointing and small at first view, but grows rapidly as one approaches it; and the storm-clouds gathering at the back gave one of the most remarkable effects I have ever beheld. The mighty lichen-covered stones, some erect, some sinking, some overthrown, were brought into fullest relief by the brilliant light of the westering sun, and his effulgence on the grass in front gave it a tint almost of gold. Behind, the distant horizon was inky black, with shadows of gathering clouds which rose dim and dark-edged above the temple. But over it, and stretching away for some distance, was a clear sky of most delicate, heavenly blue; while over-arching this was a mass of cloud still darker than the rest, which yet had a rich broad golden edge or lining, bordering or framing the sweet blue beneath. Naught could have added to the solemn majesty of the scene. No vision in the sun's disc could have more powerfully wrought upon my imagination, as, alone in this vast plain, I stood amid this mightiest fabric of ancient superstition. The dimness of the distant, shadowed horizon, and the blackness of the hovering cloud above, seemed to speak of the savage darkness of the gloomy rites of the religion which led to the gathering of these mighty stones. They spoke of the dim and distant past, instinct with awe and dark with a mystery of which we know not the secrets. But the celestial blue and the brilliant light in front seemed to speak of mercy sweetly breaking through from heaven to temper the misery of human darkness, and of the bright light of truth shining upon man's present path. I took out my watch and found I had three minutes to stay if I would catch my train. I stayed ten ! I hurriedly took out my sketch-book and jotted down roughly the positions of the stones and the lines of the land and sky, which made a picture to which only Turner could have done justice. Walking into the awful precincts you find there are two concentric circles, the outermost 108 feet in diameter, with smaller stones laid flatwise along the top of the upright stones. There are about 139 in all. The blocks which remain are from 18 to 20 feet high, and about 7 feet broad. Within the inner circle are two oval ranges, open to the east, consisting of stones about 30 feet in height. This suggested powerfully to my mind the three courts of the Tabernacle and the Temple of Solomon. I walk round silently, scraping a bit of lichen from one of the stones, watch a little bird on the top of one of them, the only other living thing in sight; take my bearings for the still visible tree on the distant down, and leave, with many a look behind, the scene of so many strange ceremonies. I go straight across country, and for a good half-mile I am clodhopping over some of the roughest ploughed land I ever had to cross. But I must hasten on. The declining sun warns me, as I shall much prefer to be in steady beaten tracks before the night comes on. Somehow my boots have begun to be strangely tight upon my worn feet, and the last miles of my pilgrimage are the hardest to travel. "'Twas Liberty; she taught disdain Of death, of Rome's imperial chain. And, rough with many a veteran scar, An easier triumph on Pharsalia's plain." + I left the main road, after much enquiry, and sped across the famous Salisbury plain. The occasional wayfarer was seen no longer, and after passing a large farmhouse and confirming the bearings of the map, I felt I was fairly launched. Launched in more than one sense, for the weather, which had until then been brilliant and warm, was changed. The sun was obscured, a cold wind blew in gusts, black clouds rushed across the sky, and the storm burst over the uplands. I pressed along with a considerable angle to the wind, and with a little of the self-conscious feeling that he is doing something, braving something, which gives to the ordinary Englishman in such cases the conviction that he is in some way emulating the Arctic voyager. It does blow hard, and rain violently, "with intent," on this Salisbury plain. But still more remarkable a scene was it, when the sudden storm was over, and the sun burst forth, brighter than ever for his temporary hiding; and numbers of larks started up and chanted their long, sweet notes of gladness, filling the air with a chorus of fulness and glory, only equalled by the effulgent brightness of the sunlight upon the surface of the landscape, newly washed by the sudden shower. This mingling of March and April had also a foretaste of the sweets of May, and the redolent perfumes of the earth, the grasses and early flowers, made these undulating, almost treeless, solitudes quite a happiness to penetrate. Still on for a few miles further, when the disappearance of the sheeptracks on crossing newly-ploughed land, the sight of a river to the right through the trees much nearer than it should have been, made it clear that I was losing the direction. I gladly made a détour to enquire of the ploughman who was breaking up a new field piece, and by his advice was quickly descending the slope into the main road. Crossing the little river-the Avon, I believe-which flows through Salisbury and then comes out at last a noble stream below Bristol, the small village of Woodford is reached. The boundary walls here strike me as being rather curious than beautiful. Made of the lime mud which is so abundant here, they are of considerable thickness, and at the top a straw thatch is placed, sometimes rudely, sometimes carefully. This thatch is, I am told, quite necessary to prevent the whole wall being washed away gradually by the rains. The fence is fairly strong when kept in good * "Belinus:" Cassivellaunus, Cassibellaunus, or, as he is called by the old English historians, Cassibelinus. The Britons united under him, and resisted the second invasion of Cæsar, fifty-four years before Christ. ↑ Part of an ode on the king's birthday, by Thomas Warton, Laureate, June, 1788. |