A poem about Wittenham Clumps (also brilliantly known as the Berkshire Bubs and Mother Dunch’s Buttocks) written in 1844 on a beech tree there… (See also TMA postings about this).
As up the hill with labr'ing steps we tread
Where the twin Clumps their sheltering branches spread
The summit's gain'd at ease reclining lay
and all around the wide spread scene survey
Point out each object and instructive tell
The various changes that the land befel.
Where the low bank the country wide surrounds
That ancient earthwork form'd old Murcias bounds.
In misty distance see the barrow heave
there lies forgotten lonely Culchelms grave.
Around this hill the ruthless Danes intrenched
and these fair plains with gory slaughter drench'd
While at our feet where stands that stately tower
In days gone by uprose the Roman power
And yonder, there where Thames smooth waters glide
In later days appeared monastic pride.
Within that field where lies the grazing herd
Huge wall were found, some coffins disinter'd
Such is the course of time, the wreck which fate
And awful doom award the earthly great.