consecrated by royal slumbers?

It is a matter of certainty that Mary Stuart planted a tree fast by
Cockhoolet Castle--she would not have been herself if she had not done
that--and a magnificent tree it is, very old and quite big enough
for its age. The queen must have been fond of planting trees, and,
considering the number she planted, it is astonishing how she found
time for so many less innocent employments: she must have improved
each shining hour, and, poor woman! she had not too many of these.

There is a walk also, called the Lady's Walk, leading away from
the castle up a bosky dell, where a burn amuses itself playing at
hide-and-seek, but, like a little child, betrays its hiding-places by
its voice, and comes out into the light again and laughs at its own
joke. Did the queen ever wander here? did she ever "paidle in the burn
when summer days were fine"? did its murmur ever soothe her ear?
did she ever see her fair face in its pools, or drop bitter tears to
mingle and; flow on with its waters?

The burn has kept trotting through the dell for six thousand years,
singing its song all the time, and its speed is as good and its voice
as clear and musical as when the morning stars sang together and all
the sons of God shouted for joy. Many a wild story it could tell if
its murmur could be understood; but it is a murmur only--a murmur
which crept into the ears of Cæsar's legions, of Queen Mary, of Bessie
Ormiston, and will creep into yours, O reader! if you like to go
and explore the Lady's Walk, when you can interpret the murmur for
yourself, as all your predecessors no doubt did. In days of old it
fed the moat, traces of which are to be seen round the castle still,
although it has long since been filled up and covered, like the park