‘’Tis fit that we should do our part;
Becoming that mankind should learn
That we are not to be surpass’d
In fatherly concern.
‘Of old things all are over old,
Of good things none are good enough;
I’ll shew that I can help to frame
A world of other stuff.
‘I, too, will have my Kings that take
From me the sign of life and death,
Kingdoms shall shift about like clouds
Obedient to my breath.’
And if the word had been fulfill’d
As might have been, then, thought of joy!
France would have had her present Boast,
And we our brave Rob Roy.
Oh! say not so, compare them not;
I would not wrong thee, Champion brave!
Would wrong thee nowhere; least of all
Here, standing by thy Grave.
For thou, although with some wild thoughts,
Wild Chieftain of a savage Clan,
Hadst this to boast of—thou didst love
The Liberty of Man.
And had it been thy lot to live
With us who now behold the light,
Thou wouldst have nobly stirr’d thyself,
And battled for the right.
For Robin was the poor man’s stay;
The poor man’s heart, the poor man’s hand,
And all the oppress’d who wanted strength
Had Robin’s to command.
Bear witness many a pensive sigh
Of thoughtful Herdsman when he strays
Alone upon Loch Veol’s heights,
And by Loch Lomond’s Braes.
And far and near, through vale and hill,
Are faces that attest the same;
Kindling with instantaneous joy
At sound of Rob Roy’s name.