midnight
I love the legend of the Friar 's Heel , but , after all , it 's only a mediæval legend , and it 's more interesting to think that , from the middle of the sacrificial altar , the priest could see the sun rise -LRB- at the summer solstice -RRB- just above that stupendous stone . I stood there , imagining a white-robed Druid looking up , his knife suspended over a fair girl victim , waiting to strike until his eye should meet the red eye of the sun . Oh , I shall have bad dreams about Stonehenge , I know ! But I sha n't mind , if I can dream about the Duke of Buckingham digging for treasure there at midnight . And if I were like Du Maurier 's dear Peter Ibbetson , I could `` dream back , '' and see at what far distance the builders of Stonehenge got their mysterious syenite , and that one black sandstone so different from the rest . I could dream who were the builders ; whether Phoenicians , or mourning Britons of Arthur 's day -- as Geoffrey of Monmouth tells . Sir Lionel and I like to think it was the Britons , for that gives him a family feeling for the place , since he read out of a book Warton 's sonnet : `` Thou noblest monument of Albion 's Isle , Whether by Merlin 's aid from Scythia 's shore To Amber 's fatal plain Pendragon bore , Huge frame of giants ' hands , the mighty pile To entomb his Britons slain by Hengist 's guile , Or Druid priests , sprinkled with human gore , Taught ` mid the massy maze their mystic lore . ''