KILRAVOCK

Amongst the granite and green, on an Oak tree I leaned

to rest in the shade of its crown.

For that moment just then, I was Lord of this realm,

with these ruins of history renowned.

And in this ancient place, I tried to retrace

the footsteps of those from the past.

In that reticent wood, as a young man I stood

in search of the play’s ghostly cast.

But none there was seen, not the Prince or the Queen

nor the Laird, named after the rose.

And the fierce men of war did battle no more.

No soldiers were railed against foes.

All the colours of fall seemed to recall

the clan tartans from seasons of lore.

The echoes of time and the ancient bells’ chime

saluted a world that’s no more.

Now, as I left this scene where legends have been,

I stole one more glance just to see,

if I only could glimpse that Queen or that Prince

or those few that fought to be free.

The Highland Sun teased its way through the leaves

and dappled the ground with its gold.

And whispering trees with the voice of the breeze,

lamented the fallen of old.

The author recalls a trip, as a young man, to Kilravock Castle (pronounced Kilrock), Inverness, Scotland. The ancient home of the Roses or Rosses of Nairnshire who lived there in the 13th century. Famous visitors include Mary, Queen of Scots in 1562, Bonnie Prince Charlie (whom Sir Hugh Rose entertained with a violin rendition of an Italian minuet), the Duke of Cumberland (the day after the Prince's visit just before the two men fought the Battle of Culloden) and also the poet Robert Burns (in 1787).