Glen Collection of printed music > Printed text > Harp of Renfrewshire

243
LINES TO CROOKSTON CASTLE.
Thou proud memorial of a former age,
Time-ruined Crookston ! Not in all our land —
Romantic with a noble heritage
Of feudal halls, in ruin sternly grand —
More beautiful doth tower or castle stand
Than thou, as oft the lingering traveller tells ;
And none more varied sympathies command :
Though, where the warrior dwelt, the raven dwells,
With tenderness, thy tale, the rudest bosom swells.
Over the soul that pleasing sadness steals,
Wliich trembles like a wild harp's dying fall.
When Fancy's recreative eye reveals
To him, lone musing by thy mouldering wall,
What warriors thronged, what joy rung through thy hall,
When royal Mary — yet unstained by crime,
And with love's golden scejDtre ruling all —
Made thee her bridal home. There seems to shine
Still o'er thee splendours shed at that high gorgeous time.
How dark a moral, shades and chills the heart.
When gazing on thy dreary deep decay :
To think what thou hast been, what now thou art !
Bleak desolation holds a reckless sway.
Where pomp and grandeur marshalled their array,
And gallant crowded many a noble guest.
Till all was splendour, joy, and revelry ;
And Beauty smiled within thy sheltering breast.
Lulled in Love's radiant dreams of pure celestial rest.