BETA

SONNET.

(WRITTEN AT SANQUHAR.)


O Scotland, thou art full of holy ground !1
From every glen I hear a prophet preach ;2
Thy sods are voiceful. No gray book can teach,3
Like the green grass that swathes a martyr’s mound.4
And here, where Nith’s clear mountain waters flow,5
With murmurous sweep, round Sanquhavr’s hoary
tower,
6
The place constrains me, and with sacred power,7
What Scotland is to Scottish men I know.8
Here first the youthful hero-preacher* raised9
The public banner of a nation’s creed :10
Far o’er the land the spoken virtue blazed,11
But he who dared to voice the truth must bleed.12
Men call’d it rash : perhaps it was a crime13
His deed flash’d out God’s will, an hour before the time.14

* James Renwick.