The capital of a line of ancient Britons,
And afterwards a Roman colony,
Here Cleopatra — no, it was Boadicea,
Queen of the Britons, in her patriot wrath
And womanly revenge, conquered the Romans,
To be herself ere long conquered in turn,
And eighty thousand of her warriors slain,
While she sought refuge from despair in poison.
And old King Coel lived here, that merry old soul,
Whose jovial spirit dwells amongst us still ;
Witness our annual native oyster-feasts,
To which I never had an invitation.
And therefore only speak from common report.
Old King Coel's kitchen still remains near by,
A puzzle to befool the antiquary.
Ancient remains abound on every side ;
The earth is rich in precious buried treasures,
If we knew only where to dig for them.
The Romans seem to have had no breeches-pockets.
Judging by how they dropped their money about !



150 THE SETTING SUN.
Here Helena was born, that pious princess

Who found the True Cross at Jerusalem.
Here too her son Great Constantine was born,

The earliest Christian Roman Emperor,

Who tied the fatal knot 'twixt Church and State.
Here flourished for succeeding centuries

The conquerors of the world, the powerful Romans,

Built themselves stately palaces and temples,

Which time long since has swept away as rubbish —

And reared stout walls around the lofty town,

And built a castle of enormous strength,

Which still remain to tell of ancient days.
The Saxons, then the Danes, and then the Normans,
Each in their turn bore sway in Colchester.
Those were the feudal times of vassalage.
Of greedy monks and half-starved artisans.
The Reformation came, and altered all things.
The streets of Colchester were then baptised
With martyrs' blood, which never flows in vain.
