LPiA-25 Nov. 18

[Mostly Holy]

"Minerva in Edgar's Field"

I saw Minerva in a field,
a playground framed by quiet streets.
The rains had blurred her helm and shield,
yet still she caught the sun in sheets.

Once a sandstone quarry stood here,
Whence legion hands coaxed blocks of stone
to circle all about their camp
vast walls that stand like fossil bone.

Unnamed hands cut her from the rock;
An owlish guard above their toil,
she watched them chip each stubborn block
to lay Rome's claim to Cheshire's soil.

The workers are gone, their Empire too;
Now she enjoys a domestic view.

One of the city of Chester's lesser known attractions is a curious weathered carving of Minerva with a carved niche next to it, on the wall of what was once a quarry, but is now a little public park. It has the curious accolade of being the only intact pagan shrine of Roman origin in Britain, saved from medieval zealots by misidentification with Mary. Altho not as impressive as the still-standing walls, or the marvellous cathedral, I have always found it a very English example of living with the past: She is just there, overlooking a mundane little field where children play, as tho it is the most ordinary thing in the world.