“Such dusky grandeur clothed the night,
Where the huge castle holds its state,
And all the steep slope down;
Whose ridgy back heaves to the sky,
Piled deep and massive, close and high,
Mine own romantic town!”
According to the history of Scotland, which to me is as charming as a story of romance, this Castle has a strange and bloody tale to tell. Here James II was confined, likewise James III. Here “The Black Dinner” was given, and the Douglasses were murdered. Here the Duke of Argyle and the good Montrose were beheaded. Montrose, you remember, is a conspicuous figure in Scottish history. He was loyal to his king and country. He was courageous as a lion, and as true and noble as he was brave. Yet he was tried before a false court, whose verdict was that on the next day he should be put to death, and his head placed on the prison wall. When permitted to reply, Montrose, in his calm and dignified manner, stepped forward and, with his usual boldness, said to the Parliament: “Sirs, you heap more honor upon me in having my head placed upon the walls of this Castle, for the cause in which I die, than if you had this day decreed to me a golden statue, or had ordered my picture placed in the King’s bed-chamber.”
EDINBURGH CASTLE.