On Gazing at the Ruins of Aqae Sulis (Bath)

O wilted wall once reared by weird,
O stones once hewn by smiths not men,
O swords of rust that gleamed once then,
O ghosts of those the Celts once feared.

O hold of them who held the land,
But stand no more for time's firm hand
Has smashed their walls and slain their kings,
And doused their lights and stilled their strings.

What man of wit, what giant's wright
Once tamed these stones and raised a sight
To cause a sigh from gods on high?
One man now stands where stones now lie.

How bright the halls where mead once flowed.
How bright the robes of them who rode
On steeds of war with gleaming shield
To lead the land; to time all yield.

O folk now slain by plague and war,
O courts of lords now earthern floor,
Below which lies many a bone
of them then kings, today unknown.

What wealth they felt, what cloth and gold
Passed hands in halls lit well and warm.
But time has stormed, the seasons swarm.
All ruined and old, dark stones lie cold.

Michael McKenny

I received in a letter from a traveller to Bath a modern English
translation of at least some of the lines of this very old poem. I
looked at this and at another translation and the above song came to
me. I can still sing it in an appropriately traditional manner.
The above rendition appeared in Silver Apple Branch 2.


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