Rob Roy was buried at the Kirkton of Balquhidder, near the outlet of Loch Voil in Perthshire. There are three sculptured stones in the rude burial-place of the Macgregors, at the eastern end of the old church. The one with the long claymore marks the resting-place of Rob Roy’s wife; the one opposite on the other side is the tomb of his eldest son; and the central stone, more elaborately carved, marks the grave of the hero himself.—Ed.
* * * * *
SONNET COMPOSED AT——CASTLE
Composed September 18, 1803.—Published 1807
[The castle here mentioned was Nidpath near Peebles. The person alluded to was the then Duke of Queensbury. The fact was told to me by Walter Scott.—I. F.]
In 1815 and 1820 this was one of the “Miscellaneous Sonnets.”—Ed.
Degenerate Douglas! oh, the unworthy Lord!
Whom mere despite of heart could so far
please, [1]
And love of havoc, (for with such disease
Fame taxes him,) that he could send forth
word
To level with the dust a noble horde,
5
A brotherhood of venerable Trees,
Leaving an ancient dome, and towers like
these,
Beggared and outraged!—Many
hearts deplored
The fate of those old Trees; and oft with
pain
The traveller, at this day, will stop
and gaze 10
On wrongs, which Nature scarcely seems
to heed:
For sheltered places, bosoms, nooks, and
bays,
And the pure mountains, and the gentle
Tweed,
And the green silent pastures, yet remain.
* * * * *
VARIANT ON THE TEXT
[Variant 1:
1807.
Now as I live, I pity that great
Lord,
Whom pure despite ...
MS. letter to Sir Walter Scott. Oct. 1803.
Ill wishes shall attend the unworthy Lord MS.]
“Sunday, September 18th.—After breakfast walked up the river to Neidpath Castle, about a mile and a half from the town. The castle stands upon a green hill, over-looking the Tweed, a strong square-towered edifice, neglected and desolate, though not in ruin, the garden overgrown with grass, and the high walls that fenced it broken down. The Tweed winds between green steeps, upon which, and close to the river side, large flocks of sheep pasturing; higher still are the grey mountains; but I need not describe the scene, for William has done it better than I could do in a sonnet which he wrote the same day; the five last lines, at least, of his poem will impart to you more of the feeling of the place than it would be possible for me to do.”
(Dorothy Wordsworth’s ’Recollections of a Tour made in Scotland’.) Writing to Sir Walter Scott (October 16, 1803), Wordsworth enclosed a copy of this sonnet, with the variation of text which has been quoted. Lockhart tells us