THE SCOTTISH SOVLDIER.  
BY LAWDER  sunt ARTIBVS ARMA DECORI. 
edinburgh Printed by John Wreittoun, and are to be sold at his Shop, a little beneath the salt throne. 1629.   

TO SCOTLAND.  
BEhold the shadow of thy Warrelike son  
Great Mother, from whose Worthie-fertile womb  
So many thousands haue tane birth, and wonnne  
An endless famed abroad, and Name at home:  
Sharing the glory of each Conquest great,  
And victory obtainde in brave defaite.  
LAWDER.   

THE SCOTTISH SOVLDIER.  

arm, arm, to arms, the Trumpets sound each where,  
And drums do beate in every Martiall ear:  
rouse up; my brave and valiant countrymen,  
The golden Age doth now return again;  
In which our swords shall shear enough vnsowne,  
And make the fruits of every field our own:  
The harvest of true Honour draweth near,  
When every head that would a laurel wear  
Must clad in shining steel march to the field,  
And gather Crownes which farrowes then will yield.  
While Kings enthroned in dust do gasping lye,  
And clouds of smoke eclipse the sun and sky:  
Which Cannons thundering throats do vomit forth,  
Where death and danger shows to try true Worth:  
O what a brave occasion have you now!  
To make the Earth and all her Monarchs bow  
To your victorious arms? which heretofore  
No fotraine yoke of bondage ever bore;  
When all the sur-face of this spacious Round,  
Where either Land or island could bee sound,  
That might enlarge Romes Empire was made thrall  
Her ravenous Eagles soaring over all,  
You kept your bounds vnconquer'd to this day,  
And did Romes Empire bo and, her conquests stay,  
And made her power fall hosts your harm so fear,  
That they huge R●mparts of defence did rear  
From axe-armde Scots invasion, you who ne're  
By any stranger yet subdued were,  
If Heavens great favour you implore a while:  
Which never did but on your Armies smile,  
You may presume( and with good hope) to bring.  
The World t'adore the lion for her King:  
For why were you reserved ever free,  
If not the Emperours of this Earth to be?   

Our Nation ever hath most Noble been,  
And all the Neighbouring World hath wondering seen.  
More Worthies, sent from hence in foreign war,  
Whose Courage greatest dangers could not mar,  
Then ever any kingdom all about.  
Could for her own defence at home bring out,  
For war hath been the practise of this Land.  
Since Fergus footed first our Scotish sand,  
And ere our fathers in the World did come,  
They heard th' alarms in their mothers womb,  
Which made them all born Souldiers, for the field  
Their birth-place was, their cradle was a shield,  
Why should not we then, sprung of warrlike race;  
Our worthy grandsires ways and footings trace?  
To show this wretched world that courage bold,  
doth live in us which shinde in them of old,  
And that our World-diuided Ile can sand,  
To drown all lands forth a deluge of Men.   

brave fellowes! do but back reflect your sight.  
On Ages past, with wonder and delight,  
You will transported find an uncouth fire  
burn in your breasts with flames of brave desire.  
To make you one day like these Heroes great,  
Whose memory lives fresh and valour yet.  
And of whose loins while they this land defended.  
You were in arms be got and are descended.   

Behold in France eight hundred yeares and more,  
To charlemagne four thousand Scots sent ore,  
Securd his kingdom from the Saxon harms,  
And well deservde with their defensive arms,  
For which the lilies of our golden field,  
Enclose the Lion in our royal shield.   

Behold two thousand in jerusalem,  
brave Champions of the faith, true Scotish men:  
lead by great Hugo Philip's brother bold,  
Who then the sceptre of faire France did hold.   

Behold the holy King saint Lowys then,  
Proud to led on three thousand Scots again.  
To Palestine, whilst that brave earl of March,  
Their, captain by his side did stoutelie march,  
Of whose assistance finding so much good,  
Our third King Alexanders help he sued,  
And had two thousand more sent to his need;  
Whom Atholls earl and Carricts count did led.   

Behold our second david arm for aid,  
To John of France three thousand Souldiers, lead  
By William earl of Douglas, which did all  
In Poictou with the French in battle fall.   

Behold our Robert sand to Charles again,  
seven thousand, stout and Warrelike fighting Men,  
Of which John earl of Buchan Gen'rall went,  
And there the earl of Wigtoun, though not sent,  
Who in these warres deservd so well of France,  
That Charles brave Buchans merit to advance  
Made him great Constable of France, and sent  
back all his noble bands again, content  
Till time requirde their aid, and callde them ore,  
To France supplied with three thousand more.   

All these, and many thousands more of late,  
Haue in their friends defence gained honors greats.  
The Douglasses long D●kes of Touraine were,  
The Hamiltons of Chastelraut yet are,  
The Stuarts Lords of Aubigny till now,  
Whose grandsyres to that height of greatness grew.  
That one of them had absolute command  
Ore all the gauged Souldiers of the Land.  
Another governed Millans state and divine  
And one in Naples Vice-Roy did reign,  
Who after lived great general to bee  
Of all the force of France in italy:  
And of that army which he hither lead  
In England sent unto seventh Henries aid.   

What noble mind not ravished is to red,  
In th'Annalls of those noble Hero's dead;  
Whose worth surviving time, shall never die  
But live enrolled in eternity?  
O brave and happy Ghosts! for ever rest  
In heavens triumphant glory crownde and blessed,  
That you may from the rolling spheres above  
Behold the bodies where your souls do move;  
Assisted with your happy influence,  
Live ever famous in all ages hence  
To do great things as you have done before,  
Whose memory and Names time doth adore.  
And you my Country-men cast up your eyes  
On those bright stars now fixed in honours skies;  
glass in their glorious deeds your actions all,  
Now while this brave occasion doth you call.  
shun sluggish rest, and that lethargicke sleep,  
Which doth your souls so long intranced keep  
In the base shadows of obscurity.  
up, up, awake that all the World may see,  
The Scotish soldier glistering in bright steel,  
To make the Earth to stagger, shake and reel,  
drunk with her dwellers blood, who dare withstand  
Refusing Charles his yoke, when you command  
To draw his wain, and proud triumphant car,  
Betwixt the Artick and antarctic star.  
Let Tybers streams no more run crystal buod,  
But black with gore, and Danube swell embr●ed  
With crimson coloured brooks, whose currants fall.  
down from the mountaines, and the valleys all,  
Wherewith your sword the sources opned bee,  
To make the Ocean all but one read Sea.   

Then, as this happy soil hath lent you birth,  
Which erst did bring so many great ones forth,  
show you are valorous, and Scotts men true,  
Whose arms can worlds of Enemies subdue:  
Shake off all ease, and for soft beds of down  
To rest vpon the stony earth lye down.  
Make Water Nectar, which you muddy drink  
Into a Morrian, and never think  
On Wine, nor on that fine and dainty fare  
For which no soul but pampered slaves do care:  
Away those vain attires of strange disguise  
And gaudy clothes which glance in Ladies eyes.  
The corselet will become you better far  
And mould you brauelie like to men of war,  
Let painted puppies, womanish conceates,  
Court monkeys, which on favour's smile awaits,  
Fard, freeze, and painte, for me, I never seek  
To haue a better colour on my cheek;  
Then when the dust and sweat do hid my face,  
Me thinks such grim-nesse is a Souldiers grace:  
And for that softness mignard youths affect,  
My humour scorns it in disdaind neglect,   

Let me still hear the Cannons thundering voice,  
In terror threaten ruin; that sweet noise  
Kings in my ears more pleasing than the sound  
Of any politics consort can bee found.  
Show me two Armies which embattled stand,  
With Squadrons spread abroad on every hand  
And ready to encounter: such a sight  
Doth more bereave my senses with delight  
Than all the pompous shows the Court affords.  
And Mignons masks of lady and of Lords.  
To see them give a charge, make a retreat,  
here a Battallion broken, there one defaite;  
A troop of horse charge footmen on the flanks:  
Who closely keep their order, and their ranks,  
The Pikes stand like a forest broad and faire,  
And streight presenting make a front all where,  
To hear the Trumpets sound, drums thundering round,  
Make Heaven and earth, the Sea and land resound,  
As if this All should suddenly bee brought  
To that confusion whence it first was wrought.  
Then to see legs and arms torn ragged fly,  
And bodies gasping all dismembered lye,  
One head beate off another, while the hand  
Sheaths in his neighbours breast his bloody brand,  
A Cannon bullet take a rank away,  
A Volley of small shot eclipse the day  
With smoke of sulphur, which no sooner clears,  
But death and horror every where appears;  
The Vantguards join, of which the one orethrowes  
The other, and ore all their bellies goes:  
And then the Battles meet, at which doth stay  
The victory and fortune of the day.  
There wounds with wounds are paid, and death with death  
There, fury offereth to a conquering wrath.  
The dying groans of such as durst affront  
A noble Courage, which did theirs surmount.  
Where glory binds her palms about the head,  
Who for true honour doth no danger dread,  
But as a lion, roaring to assuage  
Among the herds of sheep his hungers rage,  
Doth tear and rend, bite, kill on every side.  
until his appetite bee satisfied.  
So he makes all about him find his blows,  
Whose weight who ever findeth downward goes:  
Then fall the conquerde ensigns to the ground,  
With those that bare them up in blood now drowned.  
The conquerors cry aloud, the conquered die,  
And sigh their last to see that victory:  
Whilst a retreat is sounding over all  
The Victors troops in order back to call  
Who rich in honour, and in bootle come  
Chargde with their Enemies spoils triumphant home.   

These are the glorious shows which in mine eyes  
surpass all glistering pomp and vanities.  
The camp's my Court, wherein a corselet clad,  
I find more ease of mind, and walk more glad  
Than he who laced in gold and velvet goes  
Proud of the silken gloze of fading clothes.  
The trenches are my walks where oft for sport,  
And recreation sweet I do resort,  
There midst the flames of lightining, and the rain,  
Of musket bullets poured on hundreds slain.  
I walk securely, and with more content.  
Than if my hours were in soft pleasure spent.  
If any new design or Enterprise  
Be hatched, in which apparent danger lies,  
And none but such as fain would honour win,  
Dare venture or attempt, O I there I run  
As others to a feast, and when I scale  
A town or fort, and see our plot prevail,  
Though death did mar my way, my wish goes even,  
I'd think it were the way to honors heaven.   

This way our grandsires went, this way our fires,  
This way must he to honour who aspires,  
By this our brethren in these latter dayes,  
Haue in the schools of war been crowned with bays:  
Shall wee who follow them degener then?  
And not bee like our valiant Country-men?  
Who when calm peace at home their minds did mar,  
Did seek employment into foreign war;  
As Holland well can witness, who did find  
Their friendly help, and first did prove them kind  
Of any neighbour Nation, when oppressed  
With tyranny she first her neck did wrest  
From Spaines hard yoke, and did her power disdain  
A stated freedom since to entertain  
By force of arms; though not her own God knows,  
For all her Conquests to our Court'sie owes.  
A noble share which shee forgetting now  
Her vile ingratitude doth basely show.  
For had they not at Nuyport fought it out,  
When but an handful left, enclosd about,  
The fortune of that day had not been good,  
But they would seal it with their dearest blood:  
And buy the victory at such a rate,  
As might deserve more thankes, if friendly met.   

The german Warres a number did invite,  
For our Eliza's crown with her to fight;  
Who all alace! were in her losses lost,  
So Heavns have in those parts our parties crost.  
But yet wee hope to see the day again.  
On which than ere more glorious shee shall reign,  
When Heidelberg, which now her want doth mourn,  
Her sighs of sorrow in sweet Songs shall turn.  
And her Triumphant bands shall march along  
The banks of rhine remembering former wrong.  
And make the flood nymphs blushy for joy to see  
Their queen return in pomp of majesty.   

Denmark our gallants daily doth employ  
In hard exploits to work their foes annoy;  
And finds them prove true Scotsmen like themselve  
Where blood empurpleth oft the streams of Elve.   

Sweden emplores the aid of Scotish bands,  
Which in her best defence most bravelie stands  
Against the fierce Polonian Cassaques force,  
And sees them shake the Squadrons of their horse.   

The World all finds our help, or fears our harm,  
If once our CHARLES should in his anger arm,  
O what an army then should spread her wings?  
Over all Europe's face to daunt her Kings?  
When England is our own with us to go.  
What may wee not? whom can wee not orethrow?  
If God bee not against our great designs,  
Where sun doth rise, and where his car declines,  
From frozen Zembla to the torride Zone,  
Thence to the southern scape wee'll make our own;  
And all shall be great Brittaines Empire wide,  
Having no neighbours but the Seas beside.   

go to then brave and hopeful Scottish brood,  
And with your Swords let out the boiling blood,  
Of the sick world in time, before shee bee  
Full brainesicke taken with a frenesie  
Lest in her madness having double strength,  
Shee prove undaunted head strong at the length,  
And cannot be in that subiection ti'de  
In which is fitt shee should to you abide:  
First in the right arm france, set ope a vein  
To weaken her, then in the left arm spain,  
rip up another, whereby shee may bleed,  
Out all that may or can infect the head,  
But never bind them up until the gore,  
Haue made a Sea, a Sea without a shore.   

Time serves you now, come cavaliers or never,  
( Whom Heavens haue joined no earthly power can sever)  
brave Scottes and English join your hearts and hands,  
As love hath done your long divided lands,  
Put both your Crosses white and read in one,  
To fill Great Charles his standard with a sun:  
Which shall orcshine with glorious spreading beams,  
The universal World in s●rie gleames:  
And make his Enemies for fear look black  
Or at the sight dashed, fly and turn their back  
For honours sake and for your Countries famed,  
As now this island all hath but one Name,  
One King, one Faith, one Language, and one Lawe,  
So let one love your Hearts together draw,  
That all Scotes-English, English-Scotes, may be.  
possessed with that same mind which ruleth me.  
Then wee shall see that long expected day,  
When all our Lordings armde, shall cast away  
The frizzled perwigges, powders, and perfumes,  
Which soeminine conceits no Man becomes,  
And put on plumed casques with lostie crests  
Vpon their heads, and corselets on their breasts,  
And for soft carpets in the Court, betake  
Themselves vpon the ground their beds to make,  
A ston for pillow shall support their heads,  
Within these curtains which starrde Heaven spreads.  
The rain and snow shall then best incense prove,  
To purge the room, and loathsome smells remove,  
Their diet such as bounteous heaven hath sent  
Vpon Occasion, yielding true Content,  
And for a table eat it on the grass,  
Their hands to drink the water for a glass,  
Or golden bowl, in which they shall not need  
To fear mixed poison, or to drink with dread.  
For save the dirt and mud horse feet have made,  
Of worse their neatness need not bee afraid.   

This is the life the soldier lives and loves,  
Which though it painful bee, great pleasure proves.  
And I do think myself as happy then  
When I see nothing else but armed Men,  
As he whose eyes do stare his wretched gold,  
Which doth his soul a chained captive hold  
Within a chest, and never doth delight  
But when his pelf is set into his fight.   

The World is made to serve the use of Man,  
I have enough what need I further than;  
Tis Honour which I aim at, and to gain  
That sweeteneth all the sowrnesse of my pain:  
That is the scope to which my mind aspires,  
That is the sovereign of my souls desires.  
arm, arm, to arms the Trumpets sound all where,  
And drums do beate in every Martiall care.   
FINIS.   

A MONVMENT, to the memory of the most noble, and generous, Sr. W. Cuninghame, captain of an Horse trowpe, killed in the Ile of RETZ.  
Sr. WYC  
here lies  
Beneath this heap  
Of bones, in quiet sleep  
A Knight who never dyes.  
SCOTLAND did lend him birth,  
And vaunteth of His WORTH,  
Bohemia's and the german wars  
bread from a boy this hopeful MARS,  
until the service of his LORD and KING  
Did challenge his first flowers in Valours spring.  
Those RETZ did gather whilst they did but bud,  
And watering drowned the three in FRANCE'S blood.  
The Souldiers, Honour, Love, have reared this lofty frame,  
To shroud the sacred ashes of courageous CUNINGHAME.  LAWDER.  

NOMINIS ET ELOGII AVTHORIS, ANALEMMA.  

Authoris Nomen 

Magister Georgius Laderus.     

Authoris Nomen Anagr. 

Armiger, laud gestis surgo.     

Authoris Elogium. 

Sunt Artibus Arma decori.     

CARMEN.  
Armiger& gestis surgo cum laud, Laderus.  
Sic decori mea sunt, artibus arma meis.  G Ballendinus.   

Ad authorem, Encomiasticum.  
LAus in laudato, non in laudante locanda est,  
Et sequitur meritum, corpus vt vmbra, suum:  
Fiet adulator, literis, laudator, eisdem,  
Quando quis indignos laudat honore veros.  
Tu neque laudis eges, nec nostro augeberis ore  
Sufficis in lauds, ipse Ladere tuas.  
Nam velut artificis rutilo lapis aemulus igni  
Spernit opem, proprio plus satis orb micans:  
Sic tua nullius virtus plus indiga laudis,  
Ipsa suo gaudet, te sibi vate satis.  
Serta tibi data prima togae, deîa altera bĕlli,  
Sic juveni gemina est laurea parta tel●●  
Ista virûm est uirtus, non uni insistere calli,  
Ast verâque viâ, carpere laudis iter.  
Pergito char Nepos,& quàm potes, assere laudem,  
Assere in aeternos post tua fata dies.  
Assere, proclive est,& si non faverit ipsa  
Invidia, in lauds fac crepet vsque tuas.  G. Ballendinus.  

WIGHT.  
To the Kings most excellent majesty.  
BY LAWDER  sunt ARTIBVS ARMA DECORI. 
edinburgh Printed by John Wreittoun, and are to be sold at his Shop, a little beneath the salt throne. 1629.   

To his sacred majesty.  
disdain not mighty Monarch to give care  
To this poor Nymph, who humbly doth entreat  
Thine aid; and pardon for her Song, which fear  
In such a lowelie strain to THEE so great,  
Presumes vpon thy goodness to present,  
And by a Souldiers hand is to THEE sent.  
By your majesty most humble subject, servant and soldier, LAWDER.   

WIGHT.  

ABout what time the faire Latona's son  
To light this lower Round, the round did run  
In which the Heavens stern Archer standing, pours  
His falling shafts on earth in frequent showers:  
One day, as day the mornings blushy did clear,  
And stars eclypsd died in our Hemisphere,  
The winds were whist, heaven lourd on Sea and land,  
And a sad silence did the World command:  
When midst the smoothed marble of the main  
near Albions South shore, appeared plain  
A sweet and stately Nymph, to heave her head  
Above the waters faire, her locks did spread  
Their golden curls her shoulders all about,  
And flood-like flowde to where they late sprung out.  
A flowery Anademe her temples crowned,  
Which was of oak and I vie branches bound.  
Her right hand held a dart Diana like,  
With which shee wont the flying stag to strike,  
The waves about her softly swelling, raisde  
A crystal Throne, on which shee sate and gaz'de  
The Seas and wares about a pretty while.  
With an amazed look and woundring smile.  
Then, on the neighbouring cost her eyes shee cast,  
And thus her silence did break off at last.   

What sad mischance hath caused this uncouth change?  
Why looks the hills and mountaines all so strange?  
What murmuring noise and whispers do I hear?  
And sounds of sorrow echoing in mine ear;  
How looks my sister Albion now so sad?  
Wi●h ●owne cast brow who sung but late so glad?  
Tell me you muttring brooks hills daughters faire  
Why weep you so, and tear your silver hair?  
And meeting here in Neptunes watery court  
Why leave you off your wounted joys and sport?  
Ay me! what may this bee? some heavy loss  
It fears me much, or something that doth cross  
The public well at home, or some sad news  
Of Warres abroad, which famed doth now infuse  
In every ear; what ever loss it bee,  
The Heavens defend my Charles, and he'll keep me.   

But ah! I see the cause why all things mourn,  
The fleet from Retz doth homeward now return,  
But with great loss alace! of valiant Knights.  
And worthy Captaines killed in bloody fights:  
Of which my son brave burrows was the first,  
A soldier from the cradle bread and nursed,  
And many of those gallants, who but late:  
Did live with me, at tending this sad fate.  
For when they partend hence, faire Wight, said they  
Farewell, now fortune calleth us away,  
Wee must begun, yet Heaven shall witness bee.  
In absent sighs how wee haue loved Thee.  
poor souls! they now sleep in eternal rest.  
May their poor bones no trouble more molest:  
Ah cursed Retz! for ever cursed bee.  
Thou art the ground of all this grief we see,  
Thy love hath caused our loss, thy wine our woe,  
Thy salt our sorrow which doth vex us so.  
How many thousands but for thee haue did?  
By sea and land, and fire and sword haue tried?  
Thy Sister Rochell, erst to keep thee free,  
Venterd her children, state, and liberty:  
Yet lost thee and her children, and almost  
( Had not Heaven fought for her) her half the lost.  
When brainsick Belgia sent her ships from far,  
To fight with God( in that ungodly war,  
In which shee to her shane the cloak did tear  
Of true religion, which herself did wear,  
To cover her rebellion not long since,  
When shee revolted from her lawful Prince.)  
And even my Charles( deceived I must a vow)  
Did sand his help his friends to overthrow.  
O thou unhappy Nymph canst not bee good!  
Whose beauty must be bought so dear with blood,  
And none can e're enjoy but jealousy,  
In hazard of some rival enemy.   

But what do I exclaim? t'was Heavens decree  
The land should suffer and no fault in thee.  
This Nations sins haue made these Armies smart,  
And Pride is punishd now with just desert,  
All see it and confess't, then let us now,  
With truly humbled hearts our bodies bow  
Before the throne of Heavens abundant grace.  
And with unfeigned tears first beg Gods peace,  
Then make just war abroad, that he may bless  
Our arms, and good designs with glad success,  
Else never look to act what wee intend,  
Nor bring but shane unto ourselves in end.  
The world now laughs to see us brought so low,  
Who boasted so great things a while ago,  
france, who before shee saw what wee could do  
Even trembled at our Name, doth taunt us now,  
And threatens an invasion, shee who late  
half granted all we craved at easy rate,  
And had begun to talk and speak us faire,  
But for to bee well used, shee was so near:  
Now shee with spain secured, doth scoffing stand,  
And both do boast to overrun this land.  
Sweet sister do not you despise their threattes;  
Nor be deceavd too far with self conceattes,  
In trusting to your fleeting Castles strength,  
As queen of th' Ocean, but expect at length,  
After so long you now that right maintain,  
Since blessed Eliza's dayes and happy reign,  
To see your fleet effronted with a fleet,  
Which may bee made( who knows) with yours to meet.  
Still judge the worst, and so in time provide,  
That wee may after any storm abide  
Both you and I, who here( God knows) do lie,  
Naked, and open to each enemy.   

And shall I still be so without defence?  
A prey exposd to foreign violence?  
do I deserve no better? is faire Wight  
Of so small worth into her Charles his sight?  
Shee whom great Neptune loues and doth embrace,?  
And Heavens haue blessed with so sweet a face;  
Shee in whose loss all Albion should be lost.  
If foreign force were Conqueror of her cost:  
Why I am worthy of a princes love  
And even my looks may his good liking move:  
less worthy haue been queens, nor am I proud,  
To think I may be of proud I ber wooed,  
Or of the mignard French who would be glad,  
As he expectes to haue me to his bed,  
Say he should court me in rough compliment,  
And drive my weakness to a forced consent:  
Vpon what terms could I withstand his suit.  
Or with what strong refusal hold him out?  
I am a Woman, and as women bee  
Feeble,( when forced alone,) talies nor in me,  
Thus helpless, hopeless, subject to all harms,  
T'oppose a sutter when he sues in arms,  
Had I assistance of assurd defence,  
And were securd from foreign insolence,  
With fortresses, in which I durst repose,  
Then I could laugh, and never fear to lose,  
Nor honour, nor that lewell of my life,  
My chastity to be a strangers Wife.   

Great Charles but once be pleased to cast an eye,  
Vpon poor Wight, who for thine aid doth cry,  
Danger doth threaten, and it seems, is near,  
prevent it, and forgive a Womans fear.  
Take some good course that I may still be thine,  
In spite of all thine Enemies and mine.  
My Children from the womb are bread for war,  
And armed in my defence dare go as far  
As any Nation that the sun doth see,  
But haue no strength to shield themselves nor me,  
If once a stranger land, my castles all.  
Should quickly in their ruins see us fall,  
And even that 
Cares-brooke castle.  Fort which built vpon my breast,  
Is in the worlds vain hope accounted best,  
If once my dwellers should be driven there,  
Is but of small defence, t'would prove a snare:  
Within short space, and ere thine aid could come,  
I should be spoiled, burnt, wasted, and undone,  
Lee me but haue one place which can receive,  
If need should be( a siege) mine own to save,  
You see how Retz who was as weak as I  
A while but since did all our force defy,  
Though thou were Lord of both the Sea and Land,  
Her victuals and all succours to withstand,  
I am not so; a weaker hold to me  
Were of more hope, and haue the Ocean free,  
Which neither France nor spain for all their boasts,  
Can ever bar from he to brave thy coasts.   

Then while Time serves the hazard to prevent,  
provide, ere Time be sloathfullie mis-spent,  
All wish me well, but only thou canst make me  
Most happy if in thy defence thou take me,  
My sisters Children from the furthest North,  
Of Albany and from the banks of Forth,  
Bound for thy service in these Warres of France,  
Are fallen into my hands by happy chance,  
And now do live with me in such delight,  
That they are all enamoured of thy Wight,  
Yea they do sigh to see me in this case,  
Exposd to evry strangers rude embrace;  
And ere they saw me forced would venture all,  
Their lives, and blood in my defence to fall.   

Once more excuse this importunity  
Great Charles, and though my sexes modesty  
Forbid to wooe thee so, yet think how dear  
Mine honour, and my Childrens lives appear  
To mine own eyes, and evry loving Mother,  
And then I hope thy gracious thoughts will smother  
The fashion of my suit, and let me haue  
Thy royal aid, and what my need doth crave.   

So may as many laurells bind thy brows,  
In glorious conquests, and great overthrows,  
Of Enemies, by thee in Triumph lead,  
As there be lamps in Heaven when light is fled;  
And may Heavens blessing shield thy crown and State,  
To make thee once Great Britaines Charles the Great.   

This when the Nymph had said, fhee turned about,  
And dived beneath the deep where shee came out,  
The trembling marble where shee hide her head,  
A hundred rounds about the place did spread.  
Heaven streight-way smiled, and Phoebus shining bright,  
His golden beams beate on the Ile of Wight.   
FINIS.  Sunt Artibus Arma Decori. LAWDER  

TO THE MEMORY OF THE generally BEVAILLED, Sr. john BVRROWES. colonel general AT THE ISLE OF RETZ, WHERE he WAS slain.  
STAY Passenger, and red vpon this ston  
A tragic Story, in the loss of one  
By Fates untimely stroke entombed here,  
Who Mars his mignon was, the Muses dear,  
A soldier and a scholar, one by birth  
As truly Noble, as for virtuous Worth.  
The Buckler and the book were his delights,  
To led the armed Arts to fields and fights?  
No lady but Minerva he did love,  
Anothers looks could not his liking move,  
His Valor Holland witnessed, spain adoares,  
france feared, admird, and England now deploares.  
To tell thee who it is let this suffice,  
here Noble, Valiant, learned, brave BVRROWES, lies.  sunt ARTIBVS ARMA DECORI. LAWDER. 
FINIS.