Tynwald Hill

[Mr. Robinson and I walked the greater part of the way from Castle-town to Piel, and stopped some time at Tynwald Hill. One of my companions was an elderly man who, in a muddy way (for he was tipsy), explained and answered, as far as he could, my enquiries about this place and the ceremonies held here. I found more agreeable company in some little children; one of them, upon my request, recited the Lord's Prayer to me, and I helped her to a clearer understanding of it as well as I could; but I was not at all satisfied with my own part; hers was much better done, and I am persuaded that, like other children, she knew more about it than she was able to express, especially to a stranger.--I. F.]

Once on the top of Tynwald's formal mound (Still marked with green turf circles narrowing Stage above stage) would sit this Island's King, The laws to promulgate, enrobed and crowned; While, compassing the little mount around, Degrees and Orders stood, each under each: Now, like to things within fate's easiest reach, The power is merged, the pomp a grave has found. Off with yon cloud, old Snafell! that thine eye Over three Realms may take its widest range; And let, for them, thy fountains utter strange Voices, thy winds break forth in prophecy, If the whole State must suffer mortal change, Like Mona's miniature of sovereignty.