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　　Written By Somebody On The Window

　　Of an Inn at Stirling, on seeing the Royal Palace in ruin.

　　Here Stuarts once in glory reigned,

　　And laws for Scotland's weal ordained;

　　But now unroof'd their palace stands,

　　Their sceptre's sway'd by other hands;

　　Fallen indeed, and to the earth

　　Whence groveling reptiles take their birth.

　　The injured Stuart line is gone,

　　A race outlandish fills their throne;

　　An idiot race, to honour lost;

　　Who know them best despise them most. Poems and Songs of Robert Burns