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If Thou be one whose heart the holy forms Of young imagination have kept pure, Stranger! henceforth be warned; and know that
O be wiser, Thou !
ROB ROY'S GRAVE.
The history of Rob Roy is sufficiently known: his grave is near the
head of Loch Ketterine, in one of those small pinfold-like Burial. grounds, of neglected and desolate appearance, which the traveller meets with in the Highlands of Scotland.
A FAMOUS man is Robin Hood,
The English ballad-singer's joy!
gave Rob Roy a dauntless heart And wondrous length and strength of arm : Nor craved he more to quell his foes,
Or keep his friends from harm.
Yet was Rob Roy as wise as brave;
Must scorn a timid song.
Say, then, that he was wise as brave;
He sought his moral creed.
Said generous Rob, “ What need of books ? Burn all the statutes and their shelves; They stir us up against our kind ;
And worse, against ourselves.
We have a passion-make a law,
In bitterness of soul.
And, puzzled, blinded thus, we lose
That tells me what to do.
The creatures see of flood and field,
In peace, and peace of mind.
Fur why ?-because the good old rule
power, And they should keep who can.
A lesson that is quickly learned,
To wanton cruelty.
All freakishness of mind is checked ;
Each fashions his desires.
All kinds and creatures stand and fall
And who is to submit.
Since, then, the rule of right is plain,
I'll take the shortest way.”
And thus among these rocks he lived,
And Rob was lord below.
So was it-would at least have been
He came an age too late ;
Or shall we say an age too soon ?
With buds on every bough!
Then rents and factors, rights of chase, Sheriffs, and lairds and their domains, Would all have seemed but paltry things,
Not worth a moment's pains.
Rob Roy had never lingered here,
How fairly to his mind!
And to his Sword he would have said, “Do thou my sovereign will enact From land to land through half the earth!
Judge thou of law and fact !
'Tis fit that we should do our part, Becoming, that mankind should learn That we are not to be surpassed
In fatherly concern.
Of old things all are over old,
A world of other stuff.
I, too, will have my kings that take
And, if the word had been fulfilled,
And we our own Rob Roy !
Oh! say not so ; compare them not ;
Here standing by thy grave.
For Thou, although with some wild thoughts,
The liberty of man.
And had it been thy lot to live
And battled for the Right.
For thou wert still the poor man's stay,
poor man's heart, the poor man's hand ; And all the oppressed, who wanted strength,
Had thine at their command.
Bear witness many a pensive sigh,
And by Loch Lomond's braes !
And far and near, through vale and hill,
At sound of Rob Roy's name.