Renfrew was created a Burgh by David L, and was part of the estates given by him to Walter the first Stewart, who granted many pieces of ground for building, with certain rights for fishing in the adjacent waters. He also built, in the year 1170, a Castle which constituted the principal mansion of the extensive Barony.
This Castle stood on a small height called Castle-hill, on that margin of the bank of Clyde which formed an entrance into the Burgh, and was last occupied by Robert II., who was taken from his mother's side-Marjory Bruce, daughter of Robert Bruce, and wife of Walter the first Stewart-she having been killed while hunting. This Robert II., was a very wicked King, and tradition states that this Castle was swal. lowed up on account of his extreme wickedness by an earthquake. It is also said that many valuable articles have been at different periods extracted from the spot, but that it has been left unexplored in consequence of its being considered a visitation of God's justice to that said King. The following Legendary account is founded on the above historical anecdote:
BENEATH that mound a Castle lies,
Far from the sunlight of the skies,
Whose walls are crumbled in the dust-
Whose brightest gems are wrapt in rust-
Whose tapestry, once rich and grand,
Is rent by Time's destroying hand-
Whose gorgeous robes and gildings gay
Have tasted all of cold decay.
No guests assemble in the hall,
No taper's light shines o'er the wall;
All, all is gloom and sadness, where
All once was bright, and gay, and fair.
The pomp and glory of that place
Have hid themselves in dark disgrace-
The magic hours, when mirth ran high,
Have passed as meteors in the sky.
For, when it held a place on earth,
There echoed from its domes the mirth
Of joyous inmates, young and gay,
As ever breathed the balm of May;
Where mingling minstrel-sounds were heard
Beyond the bounds of due regard—
Where happy souls were raptured high
In the great gush of harmony.
Where are they now? All past and gone,
Long numbered with the cold unknown;
Their souls inhabit other spheres,
Far distant from this vale of tears;
Those earthly joys can charm no more-
Those sounds of revelry are o'er;
And Silence sits, enthroned in gloom,
Within that spacious, awful tomb.
"Twas there a wicked king did dwell,
Who loved Sin's loud unhallowed swell-
Who worshipped Mammon, and forgot
This world was but a fleeting spot-
Who gloried in his evil ways,
And gave to Heaven no grateful praise;
And so destruction from on high,
Forever sealed his destiny.
Now is the autumnal equinox: the sun
Has entered Libra, making day and night
Of equal length, o'er almost all the world:
Bringing anew those sad attendant gales
Which storm the Mariner, and pitch him high
Upon the billow's ridge; or worse, perhaps
The waves pass o'er him-or he sinks below,
In the dark caverns of the deep abyss,
Where monsters of the element swim round
To snatch him as he falls!-How many now
With danger are surrounded? none can number.
How many teazed with care! How many feel
The gnawing worm of sickness, worse than death!
How many 'neath the surge of mountain waves,
Drenched, shivering, standing with a dying hope
Waiting the Ocean's calm! "Twas such a storm
When our beloved Saviour was at sea
With his disciples, when he said, "Be still!"
And all the towering liquid mountains fell
Into the bosom of the mighty deep,
At once into repose, leaving this lesson-
That when assailed by such on sea or land,
For there be waves of trouble on them both,
To call upon his aid, and find deliverance,
Hoping in his mercy.
She gazed, and as she gazed she thought On days of former bliss,
Ere pain had in her bosom wrought
Its work of wickedness;
But she had loved too fond since then, With heart, and soul, and mind, And he had proved the worst of men Who gave his vow most kind.
She felt the sadness of her state-
Her brightest hopes decay,
And spurn'd a vile Deceiver's hate
More than the angry spray.
The world had grown a wilderness
Of trouble, guile, and grief; Death could alone end her distress, And give her soul relief.
These maddening thoughts pass'd as a shock
Electric through her mind;
She stamped upon the rugged rock,
And cast her eyes behind-
She leaped from off its summit high
Into the foaming wave—
Her soul is in eternity!
The billow is her grave.
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