SCOTLAND'S WELCOME TO HER NATIVE SON▪ AND SOVEREIGN LORD, KING CHARLES'  
Wherein is also contained, the manner of His Coronation, and Convocation of PARLIAMENT; The whole Grievances, and abuses of the Commonwealth of this Kingdom, with divers other relations, never heretofore published.  
Worthy to be by all the Nobles and Gentry perused; and to be laid up in the hearts, and chests of the whole Commouns, whose interests may best claim it, either in mean, or manner, from which their Privileges, and fortunes are drawn, as from the Lodestar of true direction.  
By WILLIAM LITHGOW, the BONAVENTURE, of EUROPE, ASIA, and AFRICA.  

De REGE Vaticinium.  
Pace datû terris, animum ad civilia vertet  
jura suum, legesque feret justissimus auctor;  
Exemploque suo mores reget, inque futuri  
Temporis aetatem, venturorumque nepotum  
Prospiciens, prolem sanctâ de conjuge natam  
Ferre simul nomenque suum, curasque jubebit.   Ovid. Met. 15. 
EDINBURGH Printed by JOHN WREITTOUN. Cum Privilegio.   

TO HIS LOVING PILGRIMAGIOUS POET, WILLIAM LITHGOW.  
CAN not thy Travels, blaze abroad thy worth?  
Which never yet did SCOT, the like set forth,  
Nor one in Europe, can with Thee compare,  
For thine adventures, excellent, and rare,  
But that thou must, in adding fame, to fame,  
Thy matchless merits, in thy Muse proclaim:  
I can not call it Pride, but virtue shown,  
From Thee, to us, through this wide I'll well known:  
But more an obligation, which thou ought.  
Unto thy native Soil; so headlong brought,  
In deep distresses, grievances, and loss,  
Whilst sorrow, on sorrow, adds cross, to cross,  
Which thou rippst up, unto the very root,  
Whence all these evils come, and springing sprout:  
Besides this jovial welcome, to our King,  
Which quick Invention, now to light doeth bring:  
O! rare relations! worthy of regard!  
And from thy Prince, and Soil, deserve reward;  
But more for what, thou suffered into Spain,  
For CHRIST and Country, and thy late Sovereign:  
Which if it be not weighed, in time I ●eare,  
That late repentance, shall buy penance dear,  
Time's have their turns, and every turn a Time,  
Men could not shift, without some changing Clime;  
For where neglect, claps merit on the face,  
The error, not the object, reaps disgrace:  
Then pregnant Pilgrim, rest thou yet content,  
Hope still that Time, shall crown thy brave intent,  
KINGS have their minds, and reason just demands,  
For Merit, can not fall, where judgement stands.  
I. A.  
Virtus repulsae nescia sordidae  
Intaminatis fulget honoribus.  Horat.  

TO HIS KIND FRIEND, AND RENOWNED TRAVELLER, WILLIAM LITHGOW.  
WHILST thine adventures past, and Travels rare,  
In hottest Climbs, of vigour-parching Sun:  
Through Europe, Asia, afric thrice thy share,  
O'er which brunt face, thy scorched Body run:  
Still clogged with dangers, fortunate to shun,  
Lyf-fatall hazards; which attempts procured,  
From curious drifts; and which thy worth begun,  
To knit thy fame, in memory immurd;  
Renowned, admyrd, applausd, for aye assured,  
To soar on wings, of never-dyeing Toils,  
And in thy pains, thy Country's name secured,  
Into the Annals, of remotest Soils:  
But what I now admire, are these thy spoils,  
Thou bringst from Pindus' Tops; O rare bred strain!  
And pregnant style, which thine engine recoils;  
To show these griefs, which SCOTLAND, doeth sustain:  
A work, where Truth, most justly doeth complain,  
On the abuse, and grievance of this Land,  
Which thou breks up, from thy Patheticque vein,  
To show thy Sovereign, how her case doth stand:  
Then Royal Sir, but listen to peruse▪  
The sweet-sad songs of Lithgows matchless Muse,  
And Thou shalst see, what never yet was shown,  
To Scottish Kings; since Scotland first was known.  
L W.  VIRG. 
Tu ne cede malis, sed contra audentior ito.   

THE PROLOGUE TO THE READER.  
WHilst SCOTLAND'S Welcome, sends its substant show  
To Mighty CHARLES, as bund duty owe;  
To whom sweet songs, and hea●ie plaints it brings,  
Mixed so, and framed, discouring serious things:  
Yet some blind judgements may condemn my Muse,  
For touching that, which they themselves abuse:  
But if it gall, their stinking sores, long wounded,  
A tush for base despite, from such hate grounded:  
Whose guilt may plead, and tell their conscience thus,  
Shrewd faults find eyes, and Time must punish us;  
Which if one age ago, this Land had been  
Checked of such faults, might now have been fund clean.  
As for the Critic, or the carping Slave,  
Go hang himself, I care not for a knave:  
Whilst for the Commoun-wealth, I stand to plead,  
To show Oppressors tyranny and greed:  
And every grievous vice, this Land affords,  
Where I affect more matter, than coined words,  
Brayne-wrested strains, AEnigmatick style,  
Or epitomizd Epilogues the while:  
Although I diving could, and soaring fetch▪  
My top-wingd flight, too high, for vulgar reach:  
Whilst I meanwhile, have more pains to be plain,  
Than to be curious, in the highest strain.  
For what this work affords, lyf-burning Taper!  
I had no Books to read, when pennd, but Paper:  
With Ink▪ and Pen, my Chamber-garnish bare,  
Warm Bed, and Board, none other Book was there:  
But Memory, Invention, Experience great,  
Whereon my labours, build their solid Seat:  
Which if it be not well done, go and mend it,  
For with the same condition, I Thee send it:  
But stop, O stay! its harder to invent,  
Then adding invention, to what's here meant▪  
This Web then see, of welcome I it Warp,  
Whiles plain and prolix, sometimes brief, and sharp;  
●●d●ed, unsaddled, spurring on I go,  
And neither spares my friend, nor hurts my foe,  
●ut smoothly 'twixt two struggling shores I run,  
●lat-sandy Scylla, Charibdin rocks to shun:  
For 'twixt like two, the golden means may rest,  
Nether too bitter, nor too sweet is best:  
Which justly I set down, and purpose like,  
Upon the Annill, of the Truth I strike:  
And if I err in one jote, I require,  
Let me go headlong to deaths fatal fire.  
Say, if he come this year, say he come not,  
Yet time shall praise me, for a loving SCOT.  
Which being doubtful, precisely, how, and when,  
I ready made this work, form Press, from Pen:  
Yet not to vent my Books, nor have them sold,  
Before mine eyes, his coming in behold:  
To whom the first I owe, to be presented,  
For only, to him only, it's invented:  
Which when it is devulgd, I dare expect,  
From the judicious Lector, kind respect.  
Then read, misconstrue not, but wisely look,  
If reason be, the Mistress of my Book,  
And if I finger, what thou fain wouldst touch,  
O! thank me, and be pleased; whilst I avouch,  
The commoun sorrows, of this groaning Land,  
Which I lay open, to thine open hand:  
Then ponder, and peruse it, thou shalst find,  
The Sole Idea, of thy Country's Mind.  
Thine, as Thou art Mine, WILLIAM LITHGOW.  Non vita haec ducenda est, quae corpore & spiritu continetur, & illa inquam, illa vita est, quae viget memoriâ saeculorum omnium, quam posteritas alit, quam ipsa aeternitas semper intuetur.  

SCOTLAND'S WELCOME TO HER NATIVE SON▪ AND SOVEREIGN LORD, KING CHARLES'  
WHat dark-drawne shades, have my sad face over espred?  
Since james, the just, my peaceful King, hath fled  
To court the King of Kings; and Hierarchies  
Of glorious Angels; the sweet harmonies  
Of Saints and Martyrs; environing round  
The old Eternal; with the joyful sound  
Of Alleluhiaes'; singing fore the Throne,  
Holy, Holy, Lord, to Heavens, Holy One;  
The Lamb of GOD, hemmed in, with burning glore  
Praise, Might, Dominion, Majesty, and Power;  
Where my Monarchick Saint, for ever blessed,  
Is crowned, and reigns, in long eternal rest.  
ay, I, I find, my grief, and chiefest care,  
Proceeds from wanting, of his Son, and heir,  
So long unviewing Me, and my sad bounds;  
Whose absence, pricked Me, with ten thousand wounds  
Of doubts, and apprehensions, if, or not,  
My lawful King, would have his Lawful lot:  
Whilst divers years and months I am re●ute,  
A mo●●●ing Widow, left in ●able Suit.  
〈◊〉, and most true it is, the Proverb proves,  
That age is still injured, by younger loves:  
And so am I, thine eldest Region made,  
A prey to dark oblivions winter-shade,  
Even as young Nuptials, make old Widows stay,  
Wnwedded, till some lingering Husband's day,  
Where, when advyce, makes resolution fast,  
The cords of Reason, bynds him at the last.  
So now, O now he comes! O happy, Time!  
To warm the bowels of my northern Clime,  
And to reveiwe that Love, my Sire left.  
Plight in my bosom, when the Heavens him rest:  
For which I'll make him welcome, Play the part,  
Of a kind Mother, with a cheerful Heart.  
What means this goodly sight? these trouping trains?  
Which trace the Marine: trade the curling plains?  
Crossing near Tweed, my border-bounding Rod,  
Would enter on my Lists, a Demi-God:  
Seconded with Meteors, glistering him about,  
And met with Miriads, of my noble rout.  
O some rare novelty! some Heros dear!  
Who with his Prime, brings in my Springtyde here,  
The Loadstar of my Fortunes, and the Cime,  
Of my best Scopes, most pure, and most sublime,  
My flower of Albion, O! the solid way!  
And centre of my Hopes, my Life, my Stay:  
Even CHARLES the first, that e'er brookd that Name,  
And Regal title, of my Diadem.  
Than welcome Son, my Husband, and my Father,  
All these to Me, thou art, each one, or either,  
My Son, and why? Dumfermling bears record,  
I am thy Patrian Mother in a word:  
My Husband too, by right from Parents bred,  
When with my Crown, thou hast my freedom wed:  
And last my Sire, so can thy Sceptre sway,  
Whilst thou bears rule, I'm bund for to obey:  
And now to welcome Thee, what Lesbian lays?  
With Lyrick-tripping songs; what Roundelays?  
In Saphick-seasond mirth burst from the Muses,  
And Cataphalion Creeks; where Triton uses,  
To make the Sea-Nymphs dance, O! shrill tuned notes,  
Sprung from Invention; thundering, through sweet throats  
Of ever springing joys: Rome ne'er had  
In all her Triumphs past, one day more glad;  
Than thou auspicuous Prince, shall now embrace  
From Millions of kind Souls; the passing grace,  
Of Love's extremest force, like as on Earth,  
Seven Town-set Loves, Heart-swelld for Homer's birth.  
Then what dark clouds dissolve? what showry shades?  
Dissolve in Sun-shyne clearness? what sparkling wades?  
In thy transplendant rays? what parching beams?  
My world's eyesight imparts? what glistering gleams?  
From Heaven's star-spangled Robe? what joys abound?  
Within my Bowels? O! what pleasant sound?  
Love's harmony affords? O! what rare Fleece?  
Acoast, mine Arathusean Springs from Greece,  
With Acedalian Triumphs; O! what a bliss?  
And happiness, of jubilee is this?  
To see my Monarch, enter in my bounds  
To heal the sores, of my long bleeding wounds:  
Whilst I, an Virgin, have contingd my truth,  
Unspotted to my all redoubted Youth.  
Like to that flower, Panthoas into Crect,  
That scorns the Sun-shyne day? and loves to greet.  
The silver Moon, in opening golden leaves,  
But to the daytime none, then only grieves;  
And will not with none other herbs cohere,  
But with itself, and from it Cynthia dear,  
So thou the Aurore, of my long worn night  
Reverts to give, thy chaste Panthoas light!  
Then welcome Sovereign, welcome to my Soil,  
Where thou shalst pleasure, and content recoil;  
Here water Nymphs exult, here Zephir blows  
A Pandedalian lustre to my Rose:  
The air resounds thy welcome, winds their part,  
And a●l good Subjects, one true voice, one heart:  
Two 〈◊〉 closing, clasp Thee, in their arms  
Where cl●uddy Sil●an tip-toed, stately charms  
With sweet allurements, shaddy piping Pan,  
Whilst worlds of voices, seem one singing Man.  
So eccheing Birds, from sweet redoubling notes,  
Sing ●earing welcomes, though through divers throats,  
Engraft from fragrant Springs, Font-gushing streams  
Me●ting through Meeds, to welcome Thee from Thames:  
Three floods sprung from one Hill, East, West, and South  
Clyde, Tweed, and Annan, each with gaping mouth,  
●oth bellowing roar, and kindly tumbling slide,  
To greet thy grateful Love, as they divide:  
So Don, and Nith, swift Dee, and headstrong Tay  
Lake-linking Levin, Meandring Forth, and Spay;  
Would melting murmur, rustling on fished Pearls,  
This sweet, sweet Echo, welcome, welcome Charles,  
The Hills rebound, Bellowmound threats the Skies,  
And piramized Tinto would surprise  
Earth's high Aethereal Seat; whilst Goatfield hill,  
In Arrane greets the Main, with echoes shrill  
Of Heart-growne joys, whiles that her snow-whyte Tops,  
S●oup down, and kindly thine affection lops.  
The Veils exhale deep cries, the whistling rounds,  
Of Earth's seven- Aeoled Towers, perform like sounds;  
All bid Thee welcome, LITHGOW bids Thee too;  
For what in mean he wants, goodwill shall do.  
Let Edinburgh, 
EDINBURGHS welcome.  my Metropole, perfect  
The rest, with Pageants, of admired delight:  
Where Mercury shall speak, with syde-hung wings,  
A●d Iuno●isse ●isse ●oft Pallas; Venus brings  
Her golden Apple; Love and Riches carp,  
'Gainst Wisdom, on, their God Apollo's Harp:  
There shall shrill Trumpets sound, loud thundering Drums,  
With roaring Cannons, cry, He comes, He comes:  
Where, when received, by that illustrious Town,  
Along thou rydst to Church, graced in renown:  
Where thou shalst hear, flow from a zealous heat  
Divine drawn doctrine, mixed with welcomes great:  
Besides rare speeches, at each Pageant made,  
To cherish thine arrival; make the glad  
With lovely sights and praises; Poets strain,  
Sprung from quick DRUMMONDS' fierce Castalian vein.  
The Sermon done, their Provost shall conduct  
Thy sacred Person, the way, which they construct  
Strait to their Banquet-house, and feasting place;  
Where rarest dainties shall present thy face:  
There Ceres joins with Bacchus; Hymen trowes,  
To tie to them thy Love, by solemn vows;  
For to maintain, their liberty and right,  
Being their comfort, when they want thy sight.  
And ah! too much it is, for that kind Town,  
To want thy Court and Presence; what pulls down  
Best Cities now on Earth? But want of trade,  
And Courtly Commerce; O! a Sovereign head!  
Where now I leave them, to give Thee content,  
For I'll debord no more from mine intent.  
That fright-fled wand'ring Prince, from Ilion's fire,  
Ne'er coasted Carthage, with more glad desire;  
And the Barbarian shore; to find the grace,  
Of loving Dido, and her pitying face;  
Than thou from this, Numidia of thine,  
Gets meeting, greeting, treating to be mine:  
And gladder far, to see thy safe return,  
Than Africks' soil, could in affection burn,  
Unto a Stranger; for thou comes not so,  
As if promiscuous, neither friend nor foe.  
Nor comes thou with stern bloody colours flying,  
Or with a doubtful mind, 
●spqn●  as one a dying:  
Nor like these Turkish fyrebrands of Hell,  
The race of Ottoman; that love to quell,  
All forts of People; Persian, Greek, and jew,  
Arabian, Moor, and Christian, would subdue,  
The Universe to be, but one Dominion,  
Wherein, the Spaniard too, would be his Minion:  
Nay; thou comes better, so the Heavens apppointed,  
Even, in the name of GOD, the LORDS anointed:  
So, ● receive Thee, as the righteous Heir,  
O● Me, and mine inheritance, most fair,  
Which shall not crown Thee, like these groaning bounds,  
Hemmed in about, with the Hyrcanian rounds:  
Nor comes thou to encroach, on Indian Soils,  
To pillage Peru; and to cast the spoils  
Of minrall Metals, on stern bloody Mars,  
Wherewith sad Epitaphs, bedeck men's Hearse:  
Nor, as the World's Usurper, Philip did,  
When he betrayed Navarre, under plots hid:  
Nor as he seized, on Portugal, and took,  
From lost Emanuel, the golden Book:  
Nor like to Petro, basely murdering down,  
The French, at Vespers, for the Sicily Crown:  
Like instances, I many could afford,  
But Time, it traitors Me, and in a word,  
O! thou comes well! and with a Conscience just;  
Of right indubitable; Reason must,  
On Thee, confer my never-conquerd Crown,  
Which now shall Crown Thee, with the old renown,  
Of thine Ancestors; and which birth Thee brings,  
Descended from one hundreth, and seven Kings:  
Which they by worth, 
Scotland's Crown mever onquerd.  and I by valour kept,  
Whilst mine encroaching foes, with Irne I whipped.  
But by thy leave, (Sir,) I must let Thee see,  
What kind of Crown, I now present to Thee;  
A Maiden Crown, unconquerd, never won,  
Since Fergus, my first Monarch it begun:  
And so from him, to Kenneth who subdued,  
The Pights, and in their blood his hands imbrued:  
Whence bloody battles, and brave chivalrye,  
From race, to race, kept and maintained it free:  
Whilst neither Danes, nor English, Saxons could,  
With awful Romans, this Crown, get, or hold,  
Such were my forces, in my Champions strong,  
That still kept, it and Me, from foreign wrong,  
What should I speak of Wallace, Bruce, and Grahame?  
The Douglases, 
The 〈◊〉 of Scotish worthies  and Stewarts, of great fame?  
With thousands more, of much renowned worth,  
Which my true Chronicle, vively sets forth,  
But leave Thee there to read, what deeds were wrought,  
And for thy matchless Ancients, stoutly fought,  
How many hundreth thousand Lyves were lost?  
Which from my bowels sprung; nay; I dare boast,  
Of Millions which to save, this Crown for Thee,  
And purchase freedom, cared not for to dye.  
So like I swear, if like were to invade,  
My Crown, their fates, in fields of blood, should wade:  
Than let not evil Counsel, Thee invest,  
Nor trechrous Sycophant, thy peace molest:  
For I have none, which burrow, of Me breath,  
But rather far, will spend their lives on death;  
Than suffer this, mine ancient right to go,  
To modern friendship, ones my cruel foe,  
And now to save, this Virgin Crown for Thee,  
There is no ●oe, can fright Me, make me flee,  
From right, from field, from battle, force, or fight,  
So long as I have Life, blood, Lungs or might:  
Whilst now; what Kingdom can their Prince renown?  
With like invinced, freedom of a Crown:  
Look to my valour Past? and thou mayst spy,  
Where divers Nations, got of Me supply.  
France can approve my Manhood, I relieved  
Their State from thraldom, when it was surgrieued:  
Witness, our mutual League, witness their guard  
And m●ne their naturalised, for my reward.  
Like Belgians swear, their strength▪ their stoutest hand,  
And Warriors best, are bred within my Land:  
The Almains too record, what I have done  
And what my Soldiers, anciently there won:  
Look to my Sister Swethland, and behold!  
What birth I send them, desperate, stout, and bold:  
For Polland she's my Nurse, brings up my Youth,  
Full thritty thousands, yearly, of a truth;  
Than loads them with, the fatness of her Soil,  
Which, I, in their due time, do still recoil:  
Than look to Denmark, where twelve thousands lie,  
Serving thine Uncle, sharpest fortunes try.  
Last, 
Some certain numbers of valiant Scots  step I o'er to Ireland, and do see,  
Full Forty thousand Scots, armed Men, there be:  
Besides, at home, one hundreth thousands more,  
Young, stout, and strong, well armed for Thee, to go;  
To challenge Destiny, and cruel Fate,  
And all Usurpers, dare menace● my State:  
Then slight me not (Dread Sir) since I, and Mine,  
Still vow, to serve Thee, as we have done Thine:  
For by this count, and much more, thou mayst see,  
What forces great, my bounds, reserve for Thee.  
The World, Man's Theatre, and commoun Stage,  
Wherein, each acts his part, in youth or age;  
Can not, nor could, produce, a Manlyer kind  
(Of Hearts invincible, of constant mind;  
Stout, strong, and Durable, Courageous too,  
Ever still, foremost, where, there's most ado)  
Than those my Martial Sons; whose Hearts now yield,  
Their hands, their swords, to fight for Thee, in field:  
Being Buffles in cold, Elephants in rain,  
Camels in hunger, Lions after gain.  
And now obsequious to thy new-reard Crown,  
Would lay their goods and lives before Thee down:  
Then be thou jocund; and redound them thanks,  
In private and in public, by their ranks:  
Thy great Grandfather, O! King james the fifth,  
Was merry, stout, and wise, Henry unwift;  
The flower of Princes, mirror of his time,  
Made Christendom admire his Manly prime:  
So Thou his second self, by worth succeeds,  
And Nature too, to all his virtuous deeds:  
Then let thy cheerful face, with jovial rays  
Illuminat thy People's love and praise:  
Thus, thy late Sire, Solomon; my King,  
When he surveighd me last, did comforts bring,  
And joys abundant to this Albion land;  
Which he by death did feaze into thy hand.  
So, 
The 〈◊〉 nation.  so, I come to crown Thee, whilst the Heavens  
O'reshaddow Thee with Seraph'd Cherubins:  
Whence, glorious Angels flee with joyful wings  
Of Peace and gladness from the King of Kings;  
To bless this sacred work, and happy union,  
'twixt Prince and People; O! thryve blessed communion!  
The Springs Poaeneian flow, sweet Demthen Rills,  
Swell from steep Pindus; Permessis, gushing fills  
The Sorean-fonted Meeds; the forked Tops,  
Dissolve, and melt in Heliconean drops.  
From whence the Nymphall nine take flight, and come,  
Crowned with Rose garlands, Delphian bays, and some  
With Laurel Mantles of the Olive hew,  
To grace this Coronation, Sir; of You:  
And leave the ceremonial rest to be  
Done by the Bishop of Sainct-andrewes'; He  
Shall bless Thee, anoint Thee, in word, in deed,  
Then set my golden Crown on thy blessed Head:  
Whilst thou in Purple Robes of State shall stand,  
To bless thy People, with thy tongue and hand:  
Which done, their Hearts and voices shall cry thus,  
GOD save and keep King CHARLES long for us.  
O Hellespont! now groans to bear the load!  
Of kind Leander's love to Hieroes God.  
Whilst both my Sword, and Sceptre down are laid  
Be●ore thy Face, in sign I am a Maid:  
Which Guerdo-knot, none can untie, nor twist,  
Till thou my Phillipides, like and list:  
Now thou art crowned, and since I crowned thy Sire.  
Just, thre●core two years presently expire:  
Though Crowns be Crowns of Care; GOD grant my Crown,  
May Health, Wealth, Love, and Peace to Thee redoune;  
Which long may thou enjoy, and thy Race,  
So long as Sun, or Moon, keep course or place,  
Now comes my Parliament, 
The Parliament.  now comes these times,  
Where thou and they should vindicate gross crimes:  
Sat then in judgement, and be careful too,  
For to perform what thy great charge should do:  
First then confirm both wholesome Laws and good,  
And establish justice; let thy Grace conclude  
A final resolution, for my State  
in Counsel and in S●ssion; ah! of late  
A foggy mist dissolved, and broke asunder;  
My Pillars from the Marble pavement under:  
As ludges should be just, so should they be  
As prompt, for to do justice speedily;  
And not with long delays, to wring the ly●e  
Of poor men's causes, to a doubtful strife:  
Which often blinds the right, and turns the wrong,  
Victorious over reason; O! sad song!  
When equity is curbed; and squink respect  
Involues the truth into a base neglect;  
Else in Buccardo, sealing misregard  
For favour, friendship flattery, or reward:  
So thus too oft is justice wrung and wounded,  
And wholesome laws for private ends confounded.  
But meanwhile, I thy greatest Care recall,  
To settle true Religion, and install  
Good godly Men and sound, in Prelates function,  
Moved by devoution, and conscious compunction:  
So shall the Gospel flourish, and thy life  
Made peaceful, happy, from seditious strife.  
A● for my Clergy, I affirming vow,  
The 〈◊〉 truth to GOD, and then to You;  
There are no People, nor no Land so blessed,  
With Godly Preachers, and GOD'S word professed  
With more sincerity, taught, shown, and preached,  
Than in my Kingdom, there was never teached  
Profounder doctrine; more divine resounds  
In CHRIST'S reformed Church, than in my bounds:  
Which to perlite, an uniformall mind,  
GOD grant his Sacrament may passage find:  
And scruplous stops may be hewed down, and made  
As plain, as Christ Himself; us taught and said.  
Now I'll degress, and leave this upper part  
Of Church and State to GOD, and thy just Heart:  
I have no lower house of Parliament,  
To punish or repress each detriment;  
Pressed grievance, or abuse of Commonweal.  
But what my sufferings must to Thee reveal;  
Then here they are, and ponder them, I pray Thee,  
And let not these my just complaints dismay Thee;  
But rather cause amend them, and redress  
These gross enormities, which I'll express.  
True and most true it is, 
The abuse of the commoun. 〈◊〉  my chiefest health  
Consists (Dread Sir) most in the Commonwealth:  
Which ah alas! hath never heretofore  
Been sound pitched, less grounded, and far more  
Disdainfully cast off, for who are they  
That ever strove a Commonn course to sway?  
There is no Providence, nor public good  
Graft in my bosom, my Towns are denude  
Of Policy and Ventures; Men please themselves,  
And care not though my fortune split on Shelves:  
Have I not Floods and Seas, good Ships and Ports?  
Brave Seamen, Pilots, Skippers, and Consorts;  
But where's the Merchand that will freely enter,  
To put these Men to work; and bide the venture  
Of doubtful success; nay; there's none I see,  
That now dare hazard further than his eye:  
Yet Man's not borne to please himself alone,  
That were idolatrizing love to one:  
But totally for GOD, partly for friends,  
Partly for Country, last for his own ends.  
As for my Trades, they're ruined with decay,  
There few or none employed: My Nobles play  
The curious Courtesan; that will not be  
But in strange fashions; O! what Novelty  
Is this? that London, robs Me of my gain:  
Whilst both my Trades and Merchands suffer pain.  
Nay; I must say, there is no courtly guise,  
Nor frivole toys though frenchifyed thrice,  
Be't in or out of fashion, Mine must have it;  
Though neither means nor honesty would crave it.  
But since they will prove fools, yet why should Strangers  
Enjoy the profit from fantastic Rangers,  
And not mine own? There is no Nation can,  
Compare with my best Trades; match man for man.  
Besides my Nobles, 
Supers●uous posting to Court.  see my Gentry too  
Post up, post down; their states for to undo:  
Nay, they will mortgage all; and to be brief,  
Ride up with gold, and turn again with grief:  
Who better far might stay at home, and live,  
And not their means to lovelesse labour give.  
It grieves Me, I should yield them yearly rend,  
Whilst vainly it in Neighbour Lands is spent:  
B●t 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 and behold the end,  
My Lands change Landlords, whilst my Youngsters spend.  
Nay there's a general ruin through my bounds,  
Which makes my sides to shiver: O! what wounds  
By Prodigals I get? There's not a stroke  
These Spendthrifts thrust, but brings Me in some yoke:  
And thus they take my money all away  
To spend abroad; whilst it should rather stay,  
For to enrich my Bowels; and to barter,  
For Corns and Merchandise in every quarter.  
Then Post and Post again, Post altogether  
To Bag-shot, then to beggary; nay, and whether?  
To root from Earth their memory and Name,  
Stamping themselves on Hippodromes of shame:  
I care not for their falls, their lands lie still,  
Though changed from hand to hand, from ill to ill:  
And like the Weathercock, from Airt to Airts,  
Their local grounds are changed from pairt to pairts:  
Now here's a wedset, there's a flying off,  
And here's the prison, there's a jaylours' scoff:  
In comes Thom Tumbler with his bags and belly,  
To alter Tacks and Rentals; I must tell Thee,  
I pity my poor Commouns, and their toil,  
Made to new Upstarts and their greed a spoil.  
How can my Tenants live? How can they thrive?  
How can they growing stand? When dead alive,  
Slain by oppression, extortion, debate,  
From Laird to Laird, in their Chameleon State:  
The Tenants suffer all, alas poor Souls!  
Still prayed upon, by Bankrupts and Fools:  
Then it's no wonder, though my land be poor,  
When now most Landlords play the errand whore,  
In shifting Rents and Styles, as many times,  
As Lais, Corinth's Strumpet did of crimes.  
Believe Me Sir, 
Revocation.  I fear this revocation,  
Make many one revoke both state and station;  
My Lords they post up daily to thy Court,  
And lie there Months and Years; and do resor●  
To London, as their Livings lay and Land,  
In midst of Cheapsyde, Kingstreete, or the Strand:  
My Gentry too and Knights, and oft Commissioners,  
In this repenting excess turn Practitioners;  
Still up and down they make a play of Posting,  
And laugh at lavish expense; fall a boasting  
Who of●est courts thy Court, whilst here at home  
Their Wives and Children cry, when will they come?  
Yea, yea, they come, but with an empty hand,  
And to turn back, morgadging here more land:  
Wherein I vow, that England turns a curse  
To me, and my spent Gentry, and their Purse.  
I grant their Tongues can make my Gallants spend,  
And suck them dry, till all come to an end:  
And why? cause in a Rodomunto, they  
Play the Orlando Furioso aye:  
As well in humours, as in lavish charges,  
Which makes most females wear such skar-clift Targes,  
Where deepest strokes in struggling force are given,  
Till both men's Ribs and Rigs are backward driven:  
Whilst the Defendants swallow up such means,  
As Reapers do, that both cut down and gleans:  
Then in a word, its glutttonie and lust,  
That brings so many headlong to the dust.  
For now at every startling peevish thing,  
jack, Thome, and Robin post up to the King:  
And will not to thy Counsel's judgement stand,  
Placed here as Lights, the Sword of thy right hand,  
To judge, if judges, judge aright or not,  
And may declare on each sinistruous Spot:  
Which by thyself was done, and set a sunder,  
The Counsel placed above, the judges under:  
But (Sir) I humbly beg, it were well done  
To punish these distractions, out of tune,  
And send them back, to censured be, and stand,  
Submissive to the justice of this Land:  
Else they will vex Thee, and such custom bring,  
That Women too will post up to the King.  
Then let an Act be made, in my regard,  
That neither Lord, nor Earl, Knight, nor Laird,  
Shall post more up to London, but remain  
At home, and spend their rents, where grows their grain:  
And to succumb themselves, and their debate,  
Unto the Lords and Pillars of my State:  
For which, as duty owe, they being bund,  
Posting shall cease, and justice here be fund:  
Nay I dare say, since thy late Father's death,  
His burial, and his Funeral, in Faith,  
There Millions two of gold from Me transported,  
And spent at London, where my Gallants sported;  
And leave at home (GOD Knows) a thread bare count,  
Which far beyond their yearly rents surmount.  
Then dear and tender Sir, let this be stopped,  
Thine absence is enough, should I be lopped  
From Top and Middle, to the naked root;  
Whilst from my Commouns all these moneys sprout:  
The Merchand he complains, the Tradesman mourns,  
The Tenant sore oppressed, in sorrow turns,  
His helplese plaints; and I 'mongst all must tremble,  
To see mine own bred brood with me dissemble.  
Where are these late past days? 
The decay of good house keeping.  when Mars surviued;  
And Nobles kept good houses, Servands lived,  
Well horsed, well armed, well loved, well clothed, well fed,  
And when my Lords with such like troops were clad;  
O! there was plenty, and abundance too  
Of every thing that Nature had to do:  
Then Lairds kept Courts, and every Lord at home  
Lived like a Prince, or Cardinal of Rome;  
Yea, and contracted no debt, mortgaged no land,  
But wore the cloth their wives wrought with their hand,  
And now where Kitchins smoakd, good cheer hath been,  
There's cold and hunger, and bare walls now seen:  
The reason why? their sins procured GOD'S wrath,  
And brought destruction on themselves with death.  
How many ruined Towers, and waste fall'n walls  
Stand nameless now, few know their styles, and calls:  
here stands Castle blood, and their Castle pride;  
Yonder Castle oppression, and lust beside;  
here Castle Gluttony; there Castle Oaths;  
here Castle Falshood, Incest that ne'er loathes  
Of Castle Perjury; and lower down  
S●ands Desolation in a thread bare gown:  
And now, though most stand nameless and unknown,  
Yet by these Verdicts may their styles be shown:  
All which, though Modern, some I have as fast,  
Ride post to Nothing, and can roaring waist.  
Now Coaches, 
The vanity of prodigals.  Cuntbotches, Lust and Play,  
And vain Apparel, rot their rents away:  
In stead of serving Men, they now keep Lads,  
To fetch them brow-laced Whores, wrapped up in Plads:  
Else Boy-posting news, to go prepare  
Room; for his Master, shortly will be there:  
Where, when abroad this gallant rides alone,  
With jack his Lackey near him, trotting on:  
Either to Limbo in the Brothell-house,  
Else to the Tavern for a deep Carouse:  
Where strait to Cards and Dice he fly'th amain,  
And for advantage, leaves the house his gain.  
So, so, their scores of Chaulders and their Bolles  
Are brought from Mountains down to little Moles:  
They have no deadly fead, that's gone of late,  
But they're at deadly fead with their own state:  
And care not for Allies, blood, wives, nor friends,  
Kindred nor bairnes, save their own wasting ends:  
Whose Riggs speak English, and their salted furs,  
Forgetting Scots, can speak with gilded Spurs.  
So Lawyers seize on part, 
Lawyers.  and right it stands  
For lawless Lairds to have Law-byding Lands:  
And would the writers too, could find like flashes,  
But now the Pen, on Paper seldom dashes:  
I''s strange the Tongue, should gain more than the Pen?  
And pleading better paid, then painful Men:  
There's here, a Labyrinth, I'll not come in,  
And for to be obsequious, were a sin:  
But here I vow, they're happy thrice and blessed,  
Who least frequents them, lives at home in rest:  
Then Lairds, and Lawyers, Scriveners flock together,  
They're blind that run, a course they know not whether;  
Ah! what makes now, my Country look so bare?  
Thus void of planting, 
the want of planting  Woods and, Forests fair:  
Hedges, and Ditches, Parks, and closed grounds,  
Trees, Strips, and Shaws in many fertile bounds:  
But only that the Landlords, set their Land,  
From year, to year, and so from hand to hand;  
They change and flit their Tenants as they please,  
And will not give them Lease, Takes, Time's, nor ease,  
To prosper and to thryve; for if they should,  
As soon they thrust them, out of house and hold:  
And he who bids most farm, still gets the Room,  
Whilst one above another's head doeth come:  
Or else to raise his rent, or kiss the Door,  
This is the cause, my Commons, live so poor,  
And so the Peasants, can not set nor plant  
Woods, Trees, and Orchards, which my Valleys want,  
But leave Me half deformed, so they're distressed:  
And by their greedy Masters, still oppressed:  
Then now to succour this, the only way,  
Is, that their farms were brought, to penny pay,  
And leasses let at large, for years or lyves,  
failing the Husbands, to their living Wyves:  
To Heyers or Friends, and when their Tacks decline,  
To be renewed again; paying their Fine,  
And yearly monies: then the Lord or Laird,  
He needs not of a doubtful year regard:  
So England, and Ireland, all Europe's brought,  
To lease and penny-rent, but victual nought,  
Then might poor Tenants thryve, set, build, and plant,  
And be relieved with that, which now they want,  
And till such time, this Land can never be,  
Brought from the jaws, of wilful poverty,  
As for my Tithes, which Nobles most recoil,  
It is another grievance, 
The wrong fall use of Tithes  to my Soil,  
Should Tithes belong to Laics? should Church rend?  
Be given to temporal Lords; by God's intent,  
Tithes were for Levits; not for Haulks nor Hounds;  
Nor no reward, of Sycophanting sounds.  
Tithes may be called Gods rend, and they pertain  
Still to his Priests, his service to maintain,  
The very Turks and Mahometan leys,  
Allot their Daruishes, religious feyes,  
Yea, savage Sabuncks, of Lybia, the odd,  
As Tithes they dote, to serve their Garlic God:  
Then how much more, should Truth to means be placed,  
When brutish Ignorants, are so embraced:  
Nay more than Clergy, Tithes should too sustain,  
My Seminary Schools with yearly grain:  
My Colleges decay, they have no rent,  
More than the Scholars bring, for boarding meant:  
Thus Learning goes to ruin, Books grow scant,  
Means they have none, and maintenance they want,  
There is no gain, nor no preferment neither,  
Now following learning, nor desert, but rather,  
The greatest Dunsse, if rich, is soon placed,  
And rarest Scholars, lacking means defaced,  
Thus Airts grow Airtles, wit repining wit,  
When Asses must in Lion's Cabins sit.  
Tithes too should build blessed Hospitals, and do  
Erect Schools, Bridges, and sustain them too:  
But where they should do good, they do most ill,  
Being abused by use, and corrupt will,  
For (Sir,) take heed, what grief is this and cross?  
To my poor Commouns, and a yearly loss;  
That when their Corns are shorn, stoukd, dead, and dry.  
They can not get them teinded; Nay; and why?  
Some grudge or malice, moves despite to wound,  
The hopeful Harvest, and rot their Corns on ground,  
This is no rare thing, on their Stowks thats seen,  
Snow-coverd Tops, below they're grass-growne green,  
Which often breeds great famine, and great scant,  
And plagues my Commouns, with a Heart-broke want.  
For which they grieve, in this long deformation,  
And hope to have from Thee, a reformation:  
Which GOD may grant, and bless thy judgement too,  
For to considder, what Oppressors do.  
So, so▪ reclaim them, deal them at thy pleasure,  
For GOD and godliness and for thy Treasure,  
Which being in thine hand, and then to farm  
Them back on Lords; will bread a double harm,  
For worse, and worse, my Commouns shall be crossed,  
And all thy good intentions, therein lost:  
Then let my Tithes, be brought to money rend,  
For Thee, from Landlord, and the poor Tennent:  
So may they shear, and lead, and stakke their Corn,  
At Midnight, Midday, afternoon, or Morn,  
Which shall be their advantage and my gain,  
When Barnes, and Yards. are filled with timely grain,  
I have some Sycophants lie at thy Court,  
Disturbers of my peace, and there resort,  
Still hatching of mischief; projecting ends,  
Which to my Country's ruin only tends:  
And though they burrowd, Life, Lands, Birth and Blood,  
Of Me, they're still repaying ill for good:  
For having spent their means, so now their brains,  
They spend in forging of seditious strains:  
Still this, or that devysing, run such courses,  
That for their crosses, they're repaid, with curses,  
Nay; I must call them, Bandits, Rebels bred,  
And Fugitives, from jure Poena fled:  
Then, then, (dread Sir) take heed, such Snakes may sting,  
And wound the judgement of a prudent King.  
As for this Valuation who can tell? 
Valuation   
What's meant thereby? or can my Preachers well,  
With one out of each Parish; lay the ground,  
What every Land is worth, or may be found:  
No; no, its labour lost, and I pray God,  
We be not scourged for it, by his just rod:  
A lesser fault, than this made Israel quake,  
When David of his People count would make,  
But value, stock, and brock, Tithes, fruits and all,  
God must give increase, 
the vicissitude of by mes.  or the reckoning fall.  
So Time's, untimely have their time misspent.  
On base Ingratitude, and bounty shent:  
What's worth, without wealth? merit without Love?  
Birth without Virtue? greatness without jove?  
Bairnes without duty, Parents, without care?  
Friends without Credit? Town without repair?  
Life without Learning? Servants without pains?  
Faith without good works? Commerce without gains?  
Hope without repentance? Wit without Reason?  
Grief without Patience? Mirth out of season?  
Command without Power? Prince without People?  
State without government? Church without Steeple?  
Preachers without rent? Poets but reward?  
Rich Men without ruth? Honour but regard?  
judges without justice? Agents but sees,  
Clarks without decreets? Lawyers without pleas?  
Tillage without soil? Traffic without peace?  
Grace without godliness? Sheep without fleece?  
Pride without puissance? Love unless acquent?  
Wyves without Children? wealth without Content?  
All which are toils, lost labour, lost in vain,  
And drudging care, for profit without gain,  
Discordant things still contrary ends oppose,  
The cause not the effect, we should suppose:  
So Fates agree; so accidents and Climbs,  
Conclude, this age, must see such woeful Time's  
So Grammar Schools are ruynd, 
The decay of Schools  Learning rare,  
Boards are so dear, and Stipends wax so bare;  
That good house-houlders, Countrymen I spy,  
Can hardly board their Bairnes abroad, and why?  
Broughs' are so fingering; Schoolmasters so needy;  
Lore at such rate, and Victuallers so greedy;  
That now most Bairnes, with Sheep, and Ploughs are found,  
Which makes so many Ignorants abound,  
With Rustic carriage; Manners harsh and rude,  
And decent comeliness, is quite seclude:  
For what makes Nature, civil mild and meek?  
Kind wise, affable, gentle, slow to speak?  
But good education: well bred, well taught.  
In Moral Precepts, and divynely fraught,  
With learned Wisdom: whence discretion flows,  
And Understanding too: for Learning grows,  
To be the light of Nature; and I find,  
It's the ornament, of a pregnant Mind:  
And though it were, but for to read, and write,  
It is a needful use; and yields delight,  
To every good Conception; gives direction,  
To know aright, and so serves for correction,  
And thus the Ruther, which behaviour rules,  
Though grafted in Nature, is refynd by Schools.  
So would to GOD. in time a course were ta'en.  
That Schools, and Scholars, were repayrd again,  
Another great abuse, is this that when,  
Men run in Suretyship for other Men;  
Or else morgadgd in debt; yet will not pay.  
Their Creditors, nor thy just Laws obey:  
But scorning, horning, Caption Rebels turn;  
And in despite of Power, all where sojourn.  
Armed with Rebellion, Pistols, Sword and Dagger,  
Threatening to kill, they roar it out, and swagger:  
They boast their Creditors, and plague the Poor,  
Even rambling through, best Towns, from door to door,  
Whilst neither Shrieve, nor justice will lay hold,  
Upon these Rebels: nay; although they could,  
They will not, why? some one respect or other,  
Dry●e in de●ayes, whilst they thy Laws down smother.  
And thus this Land, is over run and crossed.  
With lawless Bankrupts and justice lost.  
Some newly broke, as civil Cheaters do,  
Guard Barwick, 
Bankrupts.  and makes Barw●ck guard them too  
It sti●l keeps Garrison, all Men may see  
In stead of Soldiers, now fled Spendthrifts be:  
This border Town, like to that seat of Rome,  
From Sword and Spoil, to cozenage is come;  
The one absolving sin: the other debt,  
Though neither can nor could, such freedom get:  
Nay; Barwick, jumps with Rome, in more than this,  
Slaughter, Adultery, Incest, what's amiss?  
In civil Law, or Church, it will protect them,  
Though justice Vengeance, crying sins detect them,  
Then who should curb, this sheltering? or restrain it?  
But thou 'gainst whom, 
The dishonest abuse of fugitive mattages.  and thy laws they maintain it.  
There's too of late a new eclipsed miscaryage,  
But rather one abuse, of honest marriage:  
For now young persons, fauncyeing other loves,  
Without consent of Parents (thus it proves)  
Or of their pastors approbation, neither  
Of Town nor Parish, nay, of Friend or Father;  
Away they go to England; there they're married,  
And sometimes too, like Parties turn miscaryed  
Where failing of Church rites, this yoke they draw,  
That lawless Love, may be made loveles Law.  
For if the English Priest, be not Palmestrat,  
He will not marry, they turn Ambodextrat:  
How can like Nuptials stand, and stand with reason,  
Although the priest conjoins them: O! what treason?  
Of fugitive deceat, is this to see.  
When mine own brood, from my kind bowels flee,  
From Parent's love, from lawful Pastor's power,  
For to be matched by stealth: and would devour,  
Religion into shame; whilst thou base Priest,  
Turns back from being Preacher, to a Beast;  
What canst thou say, if such incestuous be?  
Else vild Ad●ltrers, brand with infamy,  
Or else betrothed to others; at which time,  
Perhaps liable to some criminal crime;  
And dares thou brand thyself, and marriage stain,  
For one poor piece of gold, for three, or twain,  
Nay; as by unlawfulness, they come to it,  
Even as unlawful, art thou called, to do it,  
O! Prelates then, and judges of this Land!  
Which both for Church, and State should justly stand,  
Away with this, O let such Nuptials be!  
Held as injust, 
Concealed woneys.  and punished rigrously.  
Now for concealed Monies, I dare protest,  
The searching of them, breeds a commoun Pest;  
The Purcifant, he goes abroad to summoned,  
Thome, Will, and Dick the heard scarce worth a Dunmond,  
This Ambodextrat Villain, he warns All,  
Before the Exchequer; and if they fail,  
A penalty ensues; else fill his hand  
Or go for Edinburgh, where come they stand,  
Wai●iag, and waiting to be tried and heard,  
The Messinger he comes not; they're debarred.  
From audience and dismissd: and thus they're crossed,  
With pains great charges, and their labour lost,  
Then judge great Sir, and ye my judges, judge,  
If this and like, wracks not the Ploughing Drudge.  
For Chamberlaves, bailies and Lairds Court Clerks,  
I see the Projects, of their subtle warks:  
The first they fat themselves, by greed by stealth,  
And out of ruin, work their Ours of wealth,  
Bringing most Lords to nought, else in such debt,  
That they're not able, out of it to get:  
The bailie oft makes crooked the right causes,  
Takes from both Factions bribes; with false forged clauses  
will have deceat called truth; if not the bailie,  
Will make the Plaintives part, a double Faillie:  
The Clarks exact on all, they will have feyes,  
Paid and repaid for Acts, although but leys,  
Then help these faults, ye Earls, Lords, and Knights,  
And let Domestic Servants, rule your rights,  
Yea serious, be yourselves to ta●e a count,  
Of all your duties, as your Father's wont:  
So shall your States, and Rents, increase and stand,  
And poor Oppressed ones freed from Factor's hand,  
As for my Cows and cattle, they're transported,  
And Sheep, 
Transporting of cattle.  with Gallowedian Nage's consorted,  
To all the English quarters, here and there,  
Lea●ing my fields, half destitute, and bare,  
Of their wont plenty and abundance great,  
Of all kind Bestial; that content could get,  
But see this droving, and this caryeing out,  
Makes flesh both scarce and dear, all where about;  
That now few houses great or small are kept,  
As they were wont, being thus of cattle stripped:  
And if it were not, for good store of fish,  
There many Mouths, would find an empty Dish:  
Then cause this (Sir) be helped by straight restraint,  
To quench the murmur, of a general plaint,  
Now come I to my Corns my Wheat and Talloun,  
Mine Yarn, Linning-Cloth, Oil many a galloun;  
Salmon, Salt, Herrings, Killing, Sethes, and Colle,  
With Skin, and Hyde, transported still to Polle:  
Of which I grant there's some, might spared be,  
For mutual Commerce, and Commodity:  
But for my Wheat my Talloun and my Hyde,  
Let them be fenssed, within myself to bide,  
That Leather growing cheap, Women may wear,  
More finer Shoes, for Leather now is dear,  
And so is tawning, Tawners have such crosses,  
With taxed Gabelloes; miserable losses,  
I will not here insist, although I could,  
Lay open this infliction, as I should,  
But since the manner, makes the mean so plain,  
I'll strike no deeper, in a bleeding vein. 
Transporting of Corns   
And should my Corns be carried to thy foes,  
For four or fyve men's ends; should general woes,  
Be sown abroad this Kingdom; should Dearth, be raised?  
When we have equall-plenty, God be praised:  
Fie, fie, on sinful greed! O shameless blot!  
That merchand's, would have dearth, when GOD will not:  
Nay they will pay before hand, raise the price,  
For which my Lords, approve them in their vice:  
And why? because they gain; but ah alas?  
The Tenants left, into a woeful case:  
Thus Policy breads famine, and base greed,  
Brings wealth to Churls, to my Commouns need,  
Then (Royal Sir) prefer my Commounweale,  
Above cursed Misers, never truly deal:  
And for transporting Corns, let Acts be made,  
Hence forth they may at home, be stopped, and stayed.  
There other Towne-bred merchand's too, I know,  
Under a peevish, 
Disembing puritanical merchands.  Puritanick show,  
Of yea, and nay, forsooth it's so, and ban not,  
It's good, the Price is small, cheaper I can not,  
Would weight a Man's purse, with his Life and worse,  
With false Hypocrisy, themselves they curse:  
When neither Conscience, Religion, nor Truth,  
They more respect, than Harlots, do of Youth.  
But serving Time's, they serve their ends; and why?  
For gain they sell, and for to gain they buy:  
By 〈…〉, they care nor; fordeceat,  
〈…〉 of their upstart State,  
〈…〉 faishood every way,  
〈…〉 turns Merchand pay,  
〈◊〉 the 〈◊〉 Man, that can deceive,  
His 〈◊〉, though he play the errand Knave,  
〈◊〉 their wit, on guile they make their drift,  
〈…〉 craft, to court, each Catchpole shift,  
Whilst neither Law, nor Reason, they regard,  
〈◊〉 death transport them, to their last reward.  
Now where are all my robust Gallants? where, 
〈…〉   
Are my Bellona-Threatners, do, and dare?  
Nay; here's the very Quintessence, of truth,  
That Peace, and Idleness, have spoilt my Youth.  
With Cards and Drunkenness, lashivious Lust:  
And all Profaneness, swearing and distrust:  
That now their Bodies, are not half so strong,  
As Nature l●nt them, to give or free wrong:  
And grown effeminate, wear Woman's loks,  
Freize-hanging combed, o'er Shoulders, Necks, and Cloks;  
That many doubt, if they be Maids, or Men,  
Till that their Beards sprout forth, and then they ken:  
And yet their shame, hangs still about their Heads,  
Whilst shaking Ha●re, approve their foolish deeds,  
Saint Paul forbids it, and he tells them plain,  
In doing which they're more, then shameless vain;  
And Absaloms' Life, hayre-hung, between two Trees,  
Might be a Caviat, for such vanities:  
For Manly excercise, is shrewdly gone,  
Football and Wrestling throwing of the Stone:  
jumping and breathing, practices of Strength,  
Which taught them to endure, hard things at length.  
And now T●bacco that base stinking weed,  
That Indian witchcraft, 
The d●se of T●bacco  smeaking in their head;  
Turns Virile Acts, and delicate discourse,  
To Pet, and Pipes, reciprocal recourse:  
Nay; they're so bend, though when it's spent to flashes,  
They'll smoke it out, even Asses, sucking Ashes,  
It was a damned devyce, a fatal curse,  
To honesty, and health, and to the Purse,  
It spoils their Memory, and blinds their sight,  
Dries up the moisture of the carnal Wight:  
It smarts the brain, and stupifiy'th the Wit,  
Benumbes the sense, and here's the plague of it;  
Most bravest Minds, turns Coxcombs, Fools and Sots,  
And now more slain thereby, than my best Scots,  
For in a word, it is a drunken feast,  
Depraving Man of senses, turns him beast:  
Some Students too, deserve to have a dash,  
For they can let it flee, smoke, flame, and flash,  
And mean while wring out from Inventions brain,  
Some curious Sermon, in a whil●ing strain,  
And so can Nobles, Gentry, Ploughman too,  
Each glory to do that, which others do.  
Some take it for the fashion, some for Rheum.  
Some for the Toothache, others for the phlegm:  
Some for the Headache, some for Melancholy.  
Some for to sharp their wits, and banish folly:  
Some for their Pallet, in their warbling throt,  
Some for good fellowship, to Pipe and pot:  
Some to quench Anger, some to put off time,  
And some excessively, make use a crime,  
Some Rodomuntoes, take it roaring down,  
And then rebelch it, like a spewing Clown:  
Some eat and chaw it, letting down the juice,  
And others steep it, for an open Sluice:  
Some snuff, and sneize it, and convert in dust,  
This green Negotian leaf, in black spent lust,  
Some hungerbit, or Stomack-sick at least,  
Convert Tobacco, in Duke Vmphraes' feast:  
Casting Barmudoes, in Virginian blocks,  
They lock Verin●es in, with Venting Knocks,  
And some when drunk, to make them sober minded,  
Till both their sense, and soberness grow blinded:  
Then here's the slaurye, of this slabby sin,  
Another Pipe, another Pot, brings in:  
The one been spent, the other not they call,  
For each of either, as their turns may shall,  
Whose Strombolizing Nosethrills, Aetna faces,  
Makes halting Vulcan, change his Lemnian places,  
To build his Forge, on foul Cymberian veins,  
Dying in black, their Bowels, Guts, and brains,  
Whilst apprehension, makes their fond conceit,  
To waste their bodies, and exhaust their State.  
Some Ladies too, have head-akes in their Toes  
And for remeed, takes Physic at their Nose:  
Some suck it stinkingly, and with distaste,  
And yet forsooth, they take it to live chaste,  
Mixed with Perfumes, and Oils, sweet Seeds, and snuff,  
They swallow down, in gluts this pagan stuff,  
Wresting another taste, than Nature can,  
Like to their painted Cheeked, deceiving Man;  
Some for the Colic; some for belly-ache,  
And some do love amain, the Pipe to take,  
That now most female, Ladies of each sort:  
Do make of Pipes, and Vapour but a sport.  
Yet I confess, it's far more kyndlyer too,  
For Women to suck Pipes, than Men to do:  
The one is Natural, though oft abused,  
The other in neither, to be excused:  
And last of all, Tobacco, I define,  
To be the Tuba Bachi, God, of wine,  
Inviting Drunkards, clustering every where?  
To swagger, swear, debosh, and revel care.  
And I could wish, 
Against the wearing of Pla●ds.  that Edinburgh would mend!  
This shameless custom, which none can commend:  
Should Women walk like Spirits? should Women wear,  
Their Winding-sheets alive? wrapped up I swear,  
From head to foot in Plads: like Zembrian Ghosts;  
Which haunt in Groaves, and Shades; like Fairy Hosts,  
Or winter wand'ring Wreaths: Base masked Whores,  
Buskd like Callabrian Witches; Skin-clungd Moores;  
With fyre-scorching Tails; Aethereal Wights,  
Or Nightly Eremies, that never delights;  
But like cursed Fiends in darkness; being the trick,  
Of Turkish Courtesans, and to be quick,  
Of Mercenary Harlots; Now base jads,  
Must Candle-light be viewed; O! sin-worn Plads,  
With Drunkenness, and Whoredom: who can avow?  
This beastly Habit; Town, I speak to you.  
Look to your Streets, at night see how they flock?  
Like buriall-busked Bedlers; and provoke,  
Good goers by to gaze, yea, often stand,  
Till they invest them, with a Shouldering hand:  
Where is their punishment? where is good order?  
Where civil comeliness? O to what border?  
Is honesty now fled; When thus I see,  
That richest, Wyves, with Harlots masked be:  
For in a word there's none, 'twixt both can judge,  
In show, the Matron, from the commoun Drudge:  
Then as the Hangman, had late power to mend it,  
The Gallows or the Borrough-Loch must end it.  
My Land is to surcharged, with cursing evil, 
The abuse of banning & cursing.   
Devil take the lears, the whole-ware still the Devil;  
Fiend a bit, Fiend take you, the Devil, an inch!  
Devil take them, Soul and Body; there's a pinch:  
How Devil do you? the Devil to you that speeres,  
And some curse Heaven, and Hell, and by them swears,  
Some cursing make, conditional diversion,  
Devil take Me, God save all; O? there's reversion?  
That even the Child, the first word it can mumble,  
Is Devil, Devil, Devil, so Babes begin to stumble,  
And why? cause Parents ban; the Servands' tongue,  
Spew curses forth corrupting, old and young,  
But ah! poor Wretches! what a curse of evil?  
Is this at every word, to name the Devil:  
This, this, and like, makes now this I'll abound,  
With Hellish Snakes, for Devils allwhere are found:  
There's neither Russia Lituan, or Leif Land,  
Norway, North Swaine, my North Isles, nor Lapland,  
Can yield more Witches, Warloks, Charmers too,  
Then my Main Lands, even at this present do:  
And though that some be brunt, there hundreths more,  
I hope ere long, shall through the fire go.  
For time and trial, earnest care may make,  
The Devil to vanish, and his servants quake:  
Then ●●aue your banning, and your cursing words;  
For Yea, and Nay; the happiest speech affords.  
But now belike the Colles, this happy year, 
Against Coals And Witches.   
By burning Witches, are grown wondrous dear,  
And so they are, but sure the Flemings make it,  
Although the Commouns, commounly mistake it:  
But if my Colles to imposts, ones were put,  
They soon would stay, the Hollanders were shut:  
Yet Colles and Witches have a nearer union,  
First here by use, than hence by dark communion:  
Some Colles are fund, in Earth's profoundest Gell,  
Which Colliers hold adjacent near to Hell:  
And will not let, blind Limbus lie between,  
For Colliers have in darkness, Lynx- bred eyen:  
Where sometimes they, with Stygian streams are crossed,  
Thrown down to Lethe, in oblivion lost:  
Whence Colles, been Nyghbours next, to Pluto's Pit,  
Are sent as Messengers, from gaping it:  
To hurl down below, with posting fire,  
These damned Gehemists, to their endless hire:  
Thus Hell and Witches, Devils, and Warloks be,  
Linkd in with Colles, in hot affinity:  
Which GOD may grant! long may their union stand,  
Till Witchcraft quite, be rooted from this Land,  
For cheating Brockers, and cursed Vsrers they,  
In every Town, 
Against Brockers,  and Corner, bear great sway:  
They're Money-Mongers, and they know times, slaurye  
When need brings Virtue, halting to their knavery:  
The Brocker, must have Pawns, and double Pawned;  
And cares not for no caution, writ, nor Hand.  
But quarterly, monthly, by week, or day,  
Must have the Gabelle, of his cheating pay:  
Else failing of the Time, off goes the Pawn,  
And thus is poverty, in bondage drawn.  
The Vsrer will take surety, 
Against Usurers'.  Bonds, and Bills,  
Or else Morgadgement, at disposers wills:  
For fourteen a hundreth, yea, sometimes twenty,  
And fills his Coffers, with such ill won Plenty:  
Yea, lets it all run on, till day and date,  
Be long expyrd; and than to raise his State,  
Out flies horning, Caption, fensing Commands,  
Imprisonment; or else comprysing Lands.  
Whilst the distressed Debtor, rests pinched, or slain,  
Under the cruelty, of this Tiger's gain:  
O! miserable wealth! O! wretched greed!  
That eats the very bowels, out of need:  
But for to mend this, whilst they're plaguing fangd,  
The Brocker should be scourged, the Vsrer hanged,  
There's to a needful Caviat, 
Concerning vagabonding Greeks.  I'll set forth,  
For en'ry Noble Lord, and Man of worth,  
For Bishops, Preachers, every town, and place,  
Where vagabounding Greeks, use now to trace▪  
Deluding and deceiving you, with leys.  
And Testimonials falls; base forgeryes.  
Of blind inveiglings; making you believe,  
They must their wives, their Bairnes, or friends relieve;  
From slavery, and from thraldom; by Turks there ta●e,  
Either in Greece, in Asia, Iles, or maine  
Whom they would have redeemed; from bondage brought.  
And Ra●semes paid, for what dissembling wrought.  
But I assure Thee, as GOD lives in Heaven,  
There's no such matter; neither are they driven,  
To any such distress; my reason's here,  
The Greeks, under the Turk, borne every where;  
Have freedom peace, and safety; live as free,  
As any Subjects here, can, or may be:  
For now the Turk, being Lord. and they too sworn,  
How can he thrall them, they his Subjects borne:  
Nay; neither Tithes of Children, Female Dote,  
They pay more now, for Achmet, rend that lot;  
Yet when they paid them both, their lyves and Lands.  
Were then as free, as ours are in our hands.  
And far les for Religion, can they be,  
Exyld or thralled, or else where, forced to flee:  
Whilst there's liberty of Conscience given,  
To Greeks and all kind Christianes' under Heaven,  
Through all his large Dominions: want nought else,  
Save only this, the use of ringing Bells:  
Nay I vow God; they live more free of cares,  
Under their Lords, than Mine do under theirs:  
Then be no more deceived; recall times past!  
How Greeks, have gulled you, goulding them so fast,  
But if you will be fools, when knaves thus passes?  
Ye merit what they make you, Dolts and Asses.  
My Hosts, 
The flattery of Hostillaries.  and Hostesses, in every house,  
Can make their Guests so welcome they'll carouse:  
With merriment and laughter; tell a Tale,  
Of Robin Hood, and Wallace; make their Ale,  
Flee out of Pynts in Quarts: but being come,  
To what's to pay? the Hostess beats the Drum!  
Up, up, Goodman; away; there's one in haist!  
Must speak with you, Come? fie, he's almost past,  
The Host thus gone, the honest Guest must stay,  
And for Thome Tratler, all the reckoning pay.  
So now, 
The scarcity of small Monies.  my Coyning-house, doth idle stand,  
And there no Pictures, stampd with Irne nor hand:  
There are no monies going, nor golden colours,  
Sa●e Dutch, and Holland, Saxone, Austrian dolours:  
Now all are Dollars; Dollars ought can do,  
And when they want them, they have dolours too:  
For but them, with them, Dollars frequent be,  
Dollars in want, and Dollars when they flee:  
But worst, there's no small money can be had,  
Nor change for gold or silver; Men are made  
Often for lack of change, to leave, or loss  
Whole, half, or part, of their twice Dollourd dross  
Men can not buy nor fell; Men can not barter;  
And Hostlaries smart too in every quarter.  
So Charity is curbed; Men can not give  
Their Alms, that would feign the poor relieve:  
Then (Sir) there's Copper, Copper too is cheap,  
Grieve not thy government, nor Monies keep,  
Of so small value, from thy Commouns hand,  
Which still breeds wealth, and Commerce in my Land:  
In this both Spain, and Italy are blessed,  
With France and Germany, and Holland best;  
Where most part of their moneys are in brass,  
And freely too from hand to hand do pass:  
Then (Sir) cause coin, Plaks, Achesons, and Turner's;  
Aught will suffice to stop the mouths of Mourners.  
Now every office bears the name of Lord, 
The abuses of divers offices falsely 〈◊〉 Lords.   
And honour much injured by wrong record:  
First then, for Lords of Session, none should be  
Called Lords for no respect, of what degree;  
Save only two, Lord Chancellor for his place,  
And the Lord Precedent; the rest I trace  
But worshipful and reverend, they're no more,  
All Europe with the like, the like decore;  
And next my Shrieve, by heritage, or year,  
Must be called Lordship, else he will not hear:  
Then there's Lord Provost placed in every town,  
And jack made Lord was yesterday a clown.  
Yea, somewhere there's Lord bailie, and Men must  
Upon his Sheep-drawne shadow Lordship thrust:  
So Deans of Gilled are Lords; O Burges boards!  
Whilst Town and Church Treasurers too are Lords;  
And yet their Lordships in a commoun tale,  
Can mix their grave discourse with Pynts of Ale.  
S●me Kirks and Colleges afford I see  
Lord Rector, Lord Archdeane, Lord how do ye?  
So also is Lord Lion gravely Lorded,  
Who more for worth than style, is here recorded:  
Next, there Lord Doctor of the shyting Potion,  
Who for some recipe, (not for devotion)  
Must be palmestrat, with red imaged o'er,  
For which his Lordship thanks the good grandgore.  
In comes Lord Commisser, and he protests  
For Clients and decreets, whilst yet, there rests  
Some fatal Testments, which he must recall,  
To be confirmed, then thanks death for all:  
Then there's Lord Constable with his Night's Crew;  
Of frozen Bussards, that will call on you,  
Come to the Lord Constable, come, or go  
To prison▪ speak, what say you? yea; or no;  
The Passenger, before his greatness come,  
One single quart will strike his Lordsheep dumb.  
And last, to Lord them all, there are Throne Lords,  
Which bear sad Burdens, bund with rops and cords,  
That sometimes serve the Hangman, Scaffolds make  
For execution, and for justice sake:  
All which are Lords; of divers ranks each Creature,  
Even from the judges to the scume of Nature:  
But if that any Kingdom can afford,  
In all the world, the like name of a Lord;  
I'll be content to pawn my Pilgrims life,  
For he best knows how to decide such strife:  
Yet anagram me Lords, O now take heed!  
And ye shall find my Lords turn drols indeed:  
And so most are, (both Colleges exceptd)  
And true Lord Barons, falsely intercepted  
By Ruffian Fopperyes; which corruption brings,  
On Noble styles, not given them of Kings;  
Which if it be not helped what's more ado?  
But style my Pilgrim, LORD TRAVELLER too.  
As for my Castles, 
The 〈◊〉 of Castles and Sea Ports.  and my Marine Ports,  
The first decay, the other, they want forts:  
Would Leith, Inchkeith, and May, were sconsd and blocked,  
As for Dunbertane it is stongly rocked:  
But more by Nature, than by Airt I see,  
Whose mouldering walls brought low, defective be:  
Which if thine eyes survey, Thou'lt'll cause amend it,  
And for its situate strength (doubtless) commend it:  
blackness that Dungeon must be still kept dry,  
Lest with the level ground it swaking lie:  
Yet stately Snadoun, Strivelings Castelld beauty,  
It still reserves for Thee a thankful duty:  
Yea; if when need, a fort of great Defence,  
Whence linking Forth, Meander-crooked, runs thence.  
As for thy Palace, LITHGOW, Fawlkland too,  
And Halyrudehouse, Mansions, when ado;  
Though now well kept, I fear long absence may,  
Turn thine Ancestors Stations to decay:  
And no great wonder, how can they abide?  
When Thou and Thine shall else where still reside:  
For edinburgh's fortress it stoutly stands,  
High-tip-toe rockd, o'relooking Sea and Lands:  
Where james the Just, of blessed renown, thy Sire,  
Was borne, and got the Crown of this Empire.  
Would Soundbroughhead, in Zetland were intrenchd,  
And Skalloway, near Laxford too reflanchd;  
And that Orcadian Kirkwall, eke rampired,  
With Cafasound, that harbour much admired:  
Then would these Isles, Septentrion safer be,  
When made defensive 'gainst the Hostile S●●:  
But for most other parts, few can offend them,  
S●a-sandy Shelves, and Craggy Coasts defend them:  
As for my western Isles, they need no hold;  
Each ●●ander himself is Bulwark bold:  
Yet (Sir) look to it, lest my Forts decay,  
And these thy Mansions fall, and rot away.  
Now come I to Land-passages, and see,  
I find defects, would GOD could helped be:  
Where are these Bridges, over Rivers placed?  
Which sometimes have my Body mainly graced  
Nay; they're ruined, else utterly decayed  
Whose untected Arches, spoilt, are quite derayed:  
Most waters now have neither Bridge nor Boat,  
Which makes so many sink, or helpless float.  
What should I speak of Perths' outrageous Tay?  
That shortly twice hath ta'en her Bridge away: 
The defect of Bridges.   
But wail the loss, that Town received thereby;  
And for remeed to Thee, my Sovereign cry!  
O Gracious Sir! cause build that Bridge again,  
And flank each Column with horned Arches twain:  
T●● stones more long and larger than before,  
The Arches wider, doubling on each Shore:  
Which made more high and wide, the struggling flood,  
May calmly vent, and not prove half so rude:  
For which good work, the Country being eased,  
Thou shalst be praised, and GOD therein well pleased.  
There many other Rivers, Brooks, and Strands,  
Streams, Rills, and Torrents, march-divyding Lands:  
Would fain be bridged, made passable and planked,  
Men might find way, and Benefactors thanked:  
But where's the Earl, Baron, Laird, or Knight?  
Will prove so charitable, though he might:  
〈◊〉▪ there's no Commoun-wealth, nor commoun works,  
〈◊〉 of them building Nests for Chimney Storks:  
But to 〈◊〉 truth, in times past, and of late,  
〈…〉 and Cloister had their swaggering state:  
Th●se good and beneficial deeds abounded,  
Which now by us are ruined, rend, and wounded:  
And yet my Nobles, brook these Tithes and rents,  
Supplied this charge, which many one reputes:  
For them, what good they do therewith, it's known,  
They fat themselves, then leave it to their own.  
Then to help this, cause every Landlord, lo!  
Through whose just bounds, thy Market Streets do go;  
To build, sustain, repair, what's in decay,  
And over lets, to make free passage way:  
But if this task may seem to great for one,  
Then let the Shire help him where it's done:  
And as the work to modify the mean,  
Wherein the vulgars' foremost still are seen:  
So shall this Nation bless Thee, praise them too,  
When Landed Men this Christian good shall do.  
Now for my losses, by the Hostile Sea, 
Incursary Losses by Sea.   
These long five years, in numbers many be:  
The Devilish Dunkirker ransacks my Ships,  
And with the scourge of Pride my fortune whips,  
Along the shiuring tops of rousing billows,  
Menassing Mars and Neptune; all he swallows  
Within the throat of Hatred; and he fills  
Their Flandrian Ports with Masts, as high as Hills;  
My Men are captives, and their goods are lost  
To them, and theirs; thy foe of too free cost,  
Enjoyeth all, and then, at random lets  
men's lives and freedom; if he ransom gets:  
And lie even as they please on Aermouths' coast  
Or Humber mouth, where all my Ships are lost:  
Where then my Cursars? Where thy Men of war?  
Nay, when they see them, hover off a far;  
And basely suffer thine Enemies to prey,  
Upon thy subjects, making no supply:  
If this be right, or if wars be intended?  
I wish a better course, else they were ended.  
Besides these Sea-bred griefs; 
The misery of War.  ah! now I see,  
Through spacious Europe a deformity:  
What strange combustions, tumults, and uproars?  
Are here and there, alwhere the Sword it gores:  
O wretched Time! most barbarous and rude,  
To see the Christian World, drunk dead with blood;  
And not one Kingdom left without cursed jars,  
So universal are these woeful wars:  
Kings against Kings, Nation against Nation,  
Perfites the Prophecy of Desolation:  
The like deludge, reciprocating strife,  
Was not, since last, Rome lost her Tribune life:  
O woeful war! which lessens wealth, and strength,  
And brings the ruins of ruin at length:  
It doth dishonour Honour, and degrade  
The mighty Man from what his greatness had:  
Even like the rage of the impetuous flood,  
Debording from his banks, leaves slime and mood.  
To choke the fertile plains, supplants the roots  
Of Herbs and Trees, defaceth quite the fruits  
Of grapes and grain; and often breaks the walls  
Of strongest Towns, whereon destruction falls.  
Even so the fury of the bloody War!  
In breaking down the bonds of Peace, debar  
The links of Love and Alliance, quite defaceth  
The liberty of Nature, and disgraceth  
The ornaments of Time, and cuts the throat  
Of Martial Darlings; then casts up the lot  
Of desolation, which destroyeth all,  
Which can to mean, or mighty Men befall:  
What though to life, we all but one way came▪  
Yet divers ways we go out of the same:  
So fatal Sword decrees Death's worst and best;  
Mans Epilogue to be, nunc mortuus est.  
Then here's the Catastrophe! warfare brings,  
For Pre●er loss the present thought of things.  
As Christendom may curse that Count of Torn,  
The day that he was got, bred, breathed, or borne:  
For divers causes in Mathias time,  
Which ah of late! turned to a vulgar crime.  
So may a lesser World, a greater cur●e  
Impose on some, whose ruined drifts were worse:  
But tush, let Fortune wag, the Balls run on;  
The Wheel in pieces chatter, all is One:  
There is a day, when Time shall bring to dust,  
There falsehood and false hovours most injust:  
Let Caperculion, Music Nigromancers,  
French fiddling plays, and blind dissembling Dancers,  
Inveigle heavy Time's, and run the Snout  
Of treachery upon a fakeles rout:  
There is a Maskerat, will ones discover  
The length 'twixt Reize and Calz, from Calz to Do●●r.  
Take heed of Sinon's tears, take heed of this  
False-smyling Clepho, with a judas kiss:  
Mongst sweetest flowers the link-layd Serpents lie,  
And lurking sting, the harmelese goers by:  
So under fairest words, the fallest heart  
Doth pry, and dive, to work some grievous smart;  
For it is incident to Courteours still,  
To speak one way and have another will:  
But much more in the Minion, who pretends  
A Sovereign Mateship for his trechrous ends:  
Which, though his greatness springs not from true merit,  
But from the power of love, which Kings inherit:  
Yet often, and too often, ab! I find,  
That Kingly favours, breed a false, false mind:  
And seldom e'er escapes without retort,  
So doubtful are the dangers of a Court.  
So present times, 
〈…〉  may for example trade  
On Duke de Lerma, whom Don Philip made  
His Minion, and his Oracle, his guide;  
The King being simple, meek, and mollified▪  
This m●ane borne gentleman, now made a Prince,  
Did swallow up ambition; and from thence,  
The dr●gs of Avarice, dishonest greed,  
And fr●m his Prince he stole, not having need;  
In nine years' time, full eight Millions of gold,  
Wh●●st Phillip's Love was dearer bought, than sold:  
At last d●te●t'd, and all his knaveries known,  
His Spanish Motto in these words were shown:  
El mayor ladron del Mondo; Para non morir aorcado,  
Vestiose, de collorado, etc. and englishd thus,  
The greatest Thief, the oldest Knave '  
That Hell, the Devil, or Spane could have;  
To shun the Gallows, he with speed,  
Did clothe himself in colour red.  
For he turned Cardinal, and gave the Pope,  
Two hundreth thousand Crowns to slay the rope▪  
So had this Duke his Minion, eke a Don,  
Made Marquis too, called Roderick Calderon:  
Who following Lermaes' footsteps, waxed so bold,  
That he stole too four Millions of pure gold:  
Which being discoured for his felony,  
This courtly Thief he was condemned to dye:  
The like and like again I could produce,  
But this may serve for to shut up the sluice.  
O! if that Kings! as they are Kings would look, 
Admonitious f●●●ing●   
And read like records of as black a book:  
Sure they would see great errors they commit,  
In giving trust to any Parasit;  
But thou blessed King, thou art not carried so,  
Thou canst discern thy friend from secret foe:  
And will not be the same that thou dost seem,  
How fond soever vulgar censures deem:  
Yet in times past, the like erroneous errors,  
Have bred to Kings and Kingdoms, helpless terrors:  
Who from himself bequeathes himself, and State.  
(And in his crown would have a rival Mate)  
Unto another's government, and will;  
God knows some Puppy, void of wit and skill  
He is but half a Man, and not his own,  
Yea sometimes scarce, the half that I have shown,  
For he that's led, and ruled by others pleasure,  
In judgement, nor in justice, keeps no measure.  
As KINGS are absolute, so, should they be,  
As absolute, in sound dexterity.  
Save in great matters, than to be advysd,  
By Counsels grave, or they be interprysd:  
If not and so, that one, must needs rule all,  
Be't life, or Honour, Liberty, or thrall:  
Look to the events, doubtfully confused.  
Whilst or the Bird be hatched the Egg is bruised;  
What David said of like? I'll praising tell,  
He begged of GOD, to send them quick to Hell:  
So KINGS have perished, and their Kingdoms fall'n  
In cruel bondage, and their People thralne:  
Like made young Osman, lose his Princely Life,  
Which filled his Kingdoms, with intestine strife,  
So the last Hunger King, was crossed and sacked,  
And by his Minion, sold, ruynd, and wracked:  
But why? should I, examplify, so much,  
Since thou hast deep experience of such:  
Yet he is happy, makes another's fall,  
A warning to prevent untimely thrall.  
Ah! and thrice ah! so Germany is laid, 
The ruin of Germany.   
Under the Spaniards foot; and Austria made,  
The head of that Empire: grief beyond sorrow,  
To see proud Tyrants, from ten Prince's burrow:  
Such helpless loans; that neither sword nor might,  
Nor Law nor Reason, can recall their right.  
O! that one blow! one Time! O! angry fates!  
Should ruin both Religion there, and States:  
Cursed be the spite of that untimely doom,  
Which Spain divyseth, and confirmed by Rome:  
Spain seeks dominion, and the Popes impart,  
Them power to swallow all, so they have part:  
And Thee, a●d thy three Kingdoms too, they would,  
Cast in the furnace, of a Spanish Mould.  
Yet Time may lash, 
The Span▪ yards insatiable greed of 〈◊〉.  the force of thy proud foe,  
And make ambition, subject to like woe:  
Who seeks King's ruin, and would domineer  
O'er all the Universe, yea, and uprear,  
The base record, of Vandals Goths, and Huns,  
Of whom they're come Men, Daughters, Wyves, and 'Zounds,  
Whose greed most Indian Soils, can not contain,  
Nor large Americk the old, and new named Spain:  
The Sea-coast Africa Towns; Atlantic Isles;  
Nor Ballearen; nor Sardinian Styles:  
The fat Suilian plains, got by the blood,  
Of murdered Gauls, can not his pride includ,  
Nor the Apulian, Callabrian Lands, and more,  
The Seat of Naples, the Lavorean Shore:  
The Milan Duchy, nor Pavian bounds;  
The racked Belgia, nor the high Burgounds;  
The Pyrheneian Navarre, the Voltelyne;  
Can not this Monster's Monarchy, confyne:  
For if he could, he would, himself invest,  
From Pole, to Pole, and so from East to West:  
Yet doubtless Time, his pride and greed shall dash,  
And raze his might, for so can fortune lash.  
Thou mayst recall herein▪ that cruel pain.  
And bloody Tortures, 
Lithgows 〈◊〉 and cruel tortures inflicted upon him in Malaga.  LITHGOW had in Spain,  
Which for CHRIST'S sake, his Country and thy Sire  
He patiently endured, O! thou mayst admire:  
His constancy for Truth, and for that Treason,  
Injustly laid on him, beyond all reason:  
Being in time of Peace, and no suspect,  
Of breach; but what they falsely did detect:  
And having too, thy Father's Seals, and Hand,  
For to protect him, to the Aethiope Land:  
Whose lice, the English factors seeing surgrieud,  
By means of Noble Aston, him relieved:  
What Tongue? what Pen? what Mind can well express?  
Or Heart conceive? his Torments merciless:  
Nay; none but thy late Father, rightly weighed,  
And Parliament; how they his Peace inveighd:  
For which (dear royal JAMES,) had full regard,  
His Sufferings, and his Travels, to reward:  
Yea, graciously maintained him, took delight,  
To hear his rare discourse, of foreign sight:  
Then (Sir) make falls, this Proverb, turn his Debte●,  
There seldom, comes (Men say) a Father better,  
Say though he had not for thy Crown, been croft,  
Racked, bruised, disjointed, and his Fortunes lost:  
With all these monies, thy Sire did him gift,  
And Thou Thyself, for to advance his drift:  
With Papers, Observations, Patents, Seals.  
Which now are lost, and lost for aye, he feels:  
Yet do his Travels merit, his rare adventers:  
His wand'ring long, beyond the Earth's full Centres:  
His curious drifts, his slighting wretched gains;  
His much-admyrd attempts! his matchless pains,  
His Fame he won thereby, to Me and Mine,  
Leaving my stamp, on Earth's remotest Shrine:  
And where I was not known, did annalize,  
My Name in records, of true Sacrifice:  
Yea did acquaint Me, with each kind of thing.  
That pregnant Knowledge, could contentment bring;  
Strengths, Towns, Castles, Cittadales and Forts,  
Distance of places, Regions, Isles, and Ports,  
Their manners too, and living, rites, and Laws,  
Customs and government, Religious Saws:  
Of Turk, and jew, Arabian, Greek, and Moor,  
Sabunck, and Coptie, the Egyptian glore:  
The Cypriot, Tartyr, Crect, and Turcoman,  
The gross Armenian, Sunburnt African;  
The Abasine and white Moor; the Nestorian,  
The Chelfane, jacobin, Syriack Georgian;  
The Amaronite, Lybian, and Nigroe black,  
Besides all Europe, in a word to take:  
All these and reasons, many hundreds more,  
Deserve that (Sir) thou shouldst appease his woe.  
For he's the first, of Travels, ever wrote,  
Since my all-Virgine Womb, first bred a Scot:  
The Prince of Pilgrims, Father of them all,  
And greatest Traveller, Earth's circling Ball,  
Can Europa's eye afford: O happy Man!  
Whose mind feasts, on rare sights; which none else can;  
There Thousand Thousands, every where complain,  
That thy just bounty, should him not sustain,  
But hath imposed upon him, a sore grief,  
To make my Bowels, yield him now relief:  
Where ah! there's nought, but poverty and pride,  
And misregard to Merit, so we'll tried:  
I could be more Pathetic, in his grief,  
But that were too indulgent, I'll be brief,  
Then (Sir) For my request, thy Soil, thy Nation,  
Help LITHGOWS want, relieve his desolation.  
Then shall thy bounty praise Thee, place thine Heart,  
On merits Glory, gracious to desert.  
To speak of ruined Churches, untectd, unwalld,  
Left unprovyded, 
〈◊〉 Churches.  stipend-unenstalld,  
Into my Borders, Isles, and High-land parts,  
Which deep experience, to my sight imparts.  
It would too tedious be, and prolix prove;  
So I'●e desist, the help lieth in thy Love;  
Which ever yet, thou zealously expressed,  
For GOD'S true Glory, in thy lice professed.  
But true it is, the Lairds which owe the ground,  
Are causes why, they thus abused are found.  
But more than this, there Preachers, that are placed,  
Within my Main▪ and orderly embraced  
Yet can not get their stipends, and Church rend,  
Without contestion, and great discontent.  
The Parish Laird, or Lord, objects some clause, 
Ministers wronged by their Parish Lairds   
Against the Pastors, Ministerial cause,  
Else thus in robbing, of his yearly fee,  
To force him both, from Church and Parish flee:  
This done for law they go, to plead it out,  
Till sliding years, and months, run thrice about.  
Which now makes Edinburgh, each Session be,  
So full of Preachers, swarming as I see:  
Whilst ah, their flocks at home, are evil taught,  
And Gods blessed Sabbath, too profanely fraught,  
With drunken Vice, and lewd laschivious sin,  
Which without Doctrine, soon comes creeping in:  
Thus many Priests are plagued; and vnrelieued,  
The people perish, honest hearts are grieved,  
The Lairds triumph, in their ambitious hate,  
And care not for GOD'S worship, nor Man's state,  
Which if it be not helped O grievous cross!  
I fear Religion, shall have the loss.  
So with this grievance, I bequeath the rest,  
To be reformed by Thee, and soon redressed:  
Then weigh them right, into thy judgement just,  
That these confusions may be brought to dust:  
So shall this Land be happy, live in rest,  
By thy good Government; when Truth thrice blessed,  
Shall Crown thy justice; and when Vice shall be,  
And errors gross, repayrd in equity.  
The Parliament done, 
A recommendetiou of all the Protestant Nobles to his Majesty.  now I must commend,  
Some Nobles to thy Love, and so I'll end:  
Make much of Hamilton, my Princely Peer;  
Thy choicest Subject, and thy Cousin Dear.  
Whose Sire, whose Grandsire, whose Pedigree,  
For faithful service, to thy Crown and Me;  
Deserve the Mausolaeon Tomb; Cariaes' wonder,  
To blaze thereon, their ●ame; and for to thunder.  
To Time's succeeding; in memory of worth,  
Their Noble actions: set so lyvely forth:  
To each declining Age: That even his part,  
Their former Lyves, stamps in his hopeful Heart:  
Whose greatness is my Mirror, and whose light,  
Illuminats my Western bounds by right:  
Whence grateful CLYDE, redounds from cheerful banks,  
To that Illustrious Youth, ten thousand thanks.  
To pen, and praise to Thee, 
The house of Mar.  that house of Mar,  
In Me were odious; since thou know'st how far;  
It do●●h surpass most others: for that Lord,  
Deserves my Chronicle, for to record,  
His Providence, and Wisdom; whilst his deeds,  
Do trample upon Virtue; whence succeeds:  
So many Sons and Daughters: O! rare birth!  
Whom GOD may long bless, and preserve on Earth:  
That as their Sire, in his matchless fame,  
So they themselves, may still retain the same;  
Whilst Glory, upon Glory, shall redound,  
To them and Theirs, an ever-fixd renown:  
As for that hopeful Youth, 
Montrose.  the young Lord Grahame,  
james Earl of Montrose; whose warlike Name,  
Sprung from redoubted worth, made Manhood try▪  
Their matchless deeds, in unmatched Chivalry:  
I do bequeath him, to thy gracious Love,  
Whose Noble Stock, did ever faithful prove:  
To thine old-agd Ancestors; and my bounds,  
Were often freed, from thraldom, by their wounds:  
Leaving their root, the stamp, of fidele truth,  
To be inherent, in this noble Youth:  
Whose Hearts, whose Hands, whose Swords, whose Deeds, whose Fame  
Made Mars for valour, canonize the Grahame.  
Wherein Muntieth, 
Munteith.  that ancient Earl may,  
Plead for his part, whose right retains it aye,  
In One, and the same Stock, being branchd, and graft,  
By descent in it, and whose Laurel shaft:  
Of Honour aims it, for his worth may claim;  
The Caledonean Mantle, in the Grahame.  
To rouse the truth, which still must passage find, 
Rothouse.   
Of worthy Rothus, and his learned Mind;  
I do admire him, for his gifts most rare,  
Which few can parallel, nor yet compare;  
With him for ancient Blood, nor present worth,  
Which pregnant deeds, and Learned parts set forth.  
Now plead I for the Earl Home, 
The Earl Home.  and see,  
That Martial Name, did much for Thine, and Me:  
They were my Bulwark, in the eastern Border,  
And kept my Nyghbour foes, in awful order:  
For Home, deryud of Homo, is a Man,  
And Merse, of Mars, so● Home, and Merse, I scan:  
Whose ancient services, and modern Love,  
Deserve of Thee great thanks, rewards of jove:  
Who by just merit, wear the Sanguine Rose,  
Of all these Confines, which my Lists enclose.  
So paint I forth, with pensile-drawing hand,  
That noble Mirror, Marshal of my land:  
There's Noble Cassells too, 
The Earls▪ in general.  and gallant Mortoun,  
Deserve, as they enjoy, Auspicuous Fortune,  
With Murray, Ainzie, Sutherland, and Lorne,  
Lithgow, Eglintoun, Wigton, and Kingorne:  
Buckcleuch, and Buchan, Hadington, Glencarne▪  
Roxbrough, Galloway, Sea-Forth, Tillibarne;  
Cathnes, Dumfermling, Kellie, Lawderdale;  
Perth, Louthian too; Crawfurd, and Annandale,  
And last, though first, so first, and last now look,  
Upon thy blood and kinsman, Lennox Duke.  
All which are Peers, by true Religion Crowned,  
And Honour too, thy faithful friends renowned.  
Though here I place most, not as order grows,  
But from my kindness, as affection flows,  
Let Herald's rank them, it's enough for Me,  
To show their Names, and keep true Poesy.  
As for Lord Barons, Lyndesay and Cath Cart,  
Boyd, Rosse, 
●ord Barons.  and Yester, Forbus, pious Heart:  
Lord Viscont Dupline, Chancellor of my State,  
With Marcheston, as good, as now made great:  
Sinclair, and Saltoun; Lowdon, in the West,  
With Elphingston, and Burley, I protest:  
Borthwick, and Dalyiell, Oglebie, and Skune,  
Cowper, and Ramsay, Bruntilland, Lord Down:  
Lovit, Halyrudehouse, Cranston, Blantyre,  
Kinclevin, Balmarinoch, Lindores, Kintyre:  
Madertie, Torphichen, and Viscont Air;  
Carnagy, Drumlanerk, Weems, and Traquaire:  
Dessurd, and jedburgh, Colvin: And how far.  
May I, even with the best, bring Lochinvar:  
With Luce, and Waghton, johnson, too and Keire,  
Who knoweth but they may Lords be the next year?  
Drum and Glennorchy too, I well may rank,  
In way of Honour, sitting at their flank.  
All these be thine, thy Darlings, and the knot,  
Which tie my freedom, to each worthy Scot;  
Being religious Lords, and weal reformed,  
From Superstition, and to truth conformed:  
And if some be not so, (dissemblers then)  
They're scoffing Atheists, irreligious Men:  
For if the inward, with the outward show  
Agree not; then they're Hipocrits I know.  
But each and all of them, do make profession,  
Of CHRIST'S reformed Church, by clear confession▪  
As for my Papist Lords, its hard to say, 
The Condition of Papist Lords.   
Whether the Pope, or Thee, they best obey.  
For Me, I will not count them, nor make doubt,  
But they may soon be told, being here left out,  
But this I may avouch, though they're inclined,  
In show to Thee; Rome keeps their heart and mind:  
Containing more, seven Hills within her walls,  
And why, not too, their silly Hearts and Saules:  
For there are holes and Caves, and ruined Pits,  
And Vineyards too, to which my Papist flits:  
Yea; stinking Puddles, of Sodomitick lyves,  
Where best the Boy with the Cardinal thryves.  
Yea; and this Pope Vrban, ones my Protector,  
To Masculine mis'rye was Architector:  
Witness Bullogne, Ravenna, Ferrare Torine,  
Ancona too, placed by the Adrian Marine,  
What then Rome's Legate, that's now Pope committed?  
It were an odious thing to be omitted:  
For when my Youths, he then surnamd my head  
Came to him, seeking succour: O! then with speed!  
If that the face was good, he soon called in,  
And gave them Crowns, with black Gomorrahaes' sin:  
Witness jack Ogelbie, thou canst report,  
What way this Pope, thy shrieking Bomb did court?  
For which this Lad been grieved in very spite,  
He stole nine hundreth Crowns, and took the flight,  
From this same Pope, than Cardinal Barbarino;  
And came to Venice, crossed the Alps to Rhino.  
I could tell time and place, and how he used  
This Youth with many more, whom he abused:  
But now Devil fetch him, what should I reveal?  
He loved my Lads posteriour parts too weal:  
In Rome and Italy was never seen,  
A greater Sodomit than he hath been:  
He was my Scots Protector, and infected them,  
With beastly filthiness, so he protected them.  
Then here's their Pope, his Holiness indeed;  
CHRIST'S Vicar, St. Peter's heir, their Church's head!  
O! Monster against Nature! O Desolation!  
O filthy Wretch! O vild abomination!  
Down stinking Sow, down Beast to Pluto's Cell,  
In stead of Heaven, keep there the Ports of Hell.  
Now Priest have with thee, for a single bout,  
For well could I (if time served) paint thee out▪ 
〈…〉   
What's now thy Mass? (come tell me) nay its such;  
A foolish sopprie, that I dare avouch.  
It is the sink of Sin, the nest of error;  
The gulf of Superstition; and the Mirror  
Of blinded Ignorance; whose mumbling mood;  
Even in the action is not understood.  
And there's the Mass, Idolatry compleets▪  
The Priest, his own Creator frames and eats:  
But more thy Blasphemy; O subtle fox!  
That dares to lock thy GOD within a Box;  
To be consumed with Moths, and wormish gnats,  
Yea; worn with Time, and eaten up with Rats:  
As for thy Miracles, and penny- pardons,  
Thy purging Pit, Indulgences, and Guerdons:  
I know what thou confessed, thou toldst me plain,  
They were but forged leys, for getting gain:  
I could at length show hundreths of like errors:  
Whose works, and ways, of Hell, are merest Mirrors▪  
O what delusions? and what Devilish drifts?  
Of cursed suggestions, in the juggling shifts;  
Of false Opinion, intricat their brains  
With blind diversion; and with halting strains,  
Of bold Presumption; thus dare cast the Mould,  
Of their incestuous lust; for now behold!  
They trust in their own labours, and degress  
From GOD'S true worship, in their mumbling Mass.  
But for my Noble Brood, 
●●eignoance of papists.  and crew of Papists,  
They live more by opinion, as do Atheists.  
Than any sound construction; for tradition  
Is all they look for in their superstition:  
Yet when my Church threats excommunication,  
As soon they find some wrested dispensation,  
Or else forbearance: why? Because they're Earls,  
And court Thy Court, to beg Thy favour Charles:  
Let this be helped, for both to hold, and hunt,  
Is more than ever sound Religion wont.  
And call to mind what David he would do,  
First clang his house, and then his Kingdom too:  
Say, if the Spring be sour, how can the stream  
Be sweet; or how can light from darkness gleam●?  
For great Ones they are Precedents, and may  
Bring good or bad into a commoun sway:  
So People by example, more than Love,  
Are brought to follow what Superiors move.  
O! if I might, as Pastors ought and should  
GOD'S judgements show, and not for flattery hold;  
I soon would show the cause why GOD'S offended,  
And plagues us so in all our, drifts intended.  
But now alas! men's earthly minded ●avour:  
Can wound their zeal, and blind their sight for favour:  
Yet of all Preachers, which my bounds contain,  
There's only Ramsay of Drumfreis takes pain;  
To curb, and to convert, or else bring under  
These stinging Wasps of ignorance the wonder;  
For he is placed in midst of the worst fry,  
Of all these Locusts, which GOD'S word deny.  
But true it is, 
Lack of Charity.  these Idole-servers may,  
Laugh at our coldness in good works this day:  
There is no Charity, nor true intent,  
By the disposers of it, done, or meant;  
As ringing Bells cite others to the Church,  
But they themselves ne'er enter at the Porch:  
So many Cymbals sound through divers throats,  
And raise their voices contrary to their notes:  
Whilst all their Tunes in such distracted mirth,  
Are clogged with clay, heart-grown unto the Earth:  
Which LITHGOWS survey of my bounds, I know,  
More amply shall in plainer terms show:  
There's here a mystery, which few can tell,  
Unless Theology the passage spell.  
Yet above all, let Priests, and Papists be,  
For●'d to convert, or banished quite from Me:  
And show them no more ruth, than they show Mine,  
In Spain, and Rome, who strictly punish Thine:  
For it stands good, that like, for like again,  
Should be inflictd, like punishment, like pain.  
Now touch I Menstrie, fraught with crimson flames, 
Sir Willi●m Alexander Lord 〈◊〉 ●f Scotland   
Of Acedalian fire; whom Hymen frames,  
The Muse's Darling; whilst Apollo vows,  
To sit between the Temples of his brows;  
And there knit Garlands, twist with Delphian bays,  
To crown his sacred strain, with divyne praise:  
Whence he proclaims him, Prince, of Poets all,  
That ever Albion bred, or could install:  
But what I most admire, and must commend,  
Are these his rare adventures, he doeth send:  
Hence t' Americk; whence Cannada confines,  
His new laid limits: Reason too combynes,  
A constant resolution, there to plant,  
My Nova Scotia; where nothing can want,  
For grounds both fat, and fertile; their cur●ing plains,  
Are clad with Woods; there wealth to Country Swains,  
May copiously arise: Their Rye and Wheat,  
With Corns and grain, might soon be brought compleet:  
There Pastorage excels, their fish abound,  
There flying Fowl, and speedy Cerfs are found:  
The Soil, a Climate clear, the Seasons fair,  
Where fragrant fruits surpass, Herbs grow most rare▪  
To which if that my Nobles, would but lend,  
Their helping hands, and their provision send,  
Of Folks and Bestial, Seed, and every thing,  
O what increase should this Plantation bring!  
In doing which, they should enlarge my Name,  
Making my bowels, famous, in their fame:  
And to which end, I vow, my Pilgrim would  
Adventure too, providing he had gold.  
There CHRIST shall be professd, the Gospel preachd,  
And savage Bruits borne there, Salvation teachd:  
For which brave Menstrie, in his matchless merit,  
Shall praise on Earth, reward from Heaven inherit:  
Then Alexander, let that Province be,  
Called Alexandria, from this Name of Thee;  
That after Ages may the same record,  
Thou was the first Plantator there, and Lord;  
Which simpathizeth well with that great King,  
The Macedonian Conqueror, who did bring  
The eastern World in bonds, made Ganges be,  
The Frontier of his fortunes; leaving Thee,  
This Patrimonial place, the westmost Main;  
For to renew his memory again:  
So Menstrie, Thou, with Asia's great Commander,  
Shall twice succeed, a second Alexander.  
Last plead I for myself, now my request,  
Most Royal Sir, flows from a prostrate breast; 
Scotland's recommendation to his Majesty.   
Even from the Torrid Zone of mine affection;  
I beg Thy deepest Love, and dear Protection:  
That 'twixt Thy Heart and Soul, two Tropics great,  
I vnder-placed, may find Thy radiant heat:  
Whose tender Care, whose Deeds, whose Zeal Divyne,  
May be Heaven's Aequinox to Me, and Mine:  
That from Thy Beams, I frozen, may recoil,  
As hot a flame, as Parcheth, Aethiops Soil:  
So shall these Circles, Hemispheres of Love,  
And these fixed Planets, which no storm can move;  
Be my sole Zodiac, and the Horizon,  
For to perfect, and crown my glistering Zone:  
That Thou my World's great eye, and thy designs,  
May happy be, through Heaven's Celestial signs:  
So shall my Faith, and duty, be the Poles,  
Whereon the Axletree, of thy Sceptre rolls:  
Whence let these rays Antarctic, thy best glory  
Reflex on Me, thine Arctic Soil, grown hoary▪  
And though my Saturn Cape salutes the Star,  
Which guides most Pilots, yet who can debar?  
Mine Isles, and maine dimensious bounds to yield  
Thee, Martialists, the best on earth for field:  
I am thine eldest Daughter, and my Birth;  
Thy nearest Subjects living upon Earth.  
But why plead I so much? Why paint I forth?  
My Sons in their illuminary worth:  
Since thou art postng back to Isis' banks,  
And leaves me naked, only clad with thanks●  
Now must I spin my long spun web, 
Scotland● sorrow for his Majesty's quick return.  and knit  
Penelope, within the length of it:  
Whilst Memphis groans, to see sad Sparta mourn,  
'twixt two arryvalls, and a quick return:  
Ah! well I see the Sun, when at the height,  
Must soon decline to bring on darksome night:  
And are my joys fled, my Darling gone,  
Like to the shadow of some wand'ring One;  
I, I, thy stay to Me, and Thy goodnight,  
Seemed but the glancing of a Falcon's flight;  
Which makes my Bowels roar, my grief resounds it,  
There's none can heal my sore, but Thou who wounds it.  
That shearing Sword, which sharply struck the Heart,  
Of bleeding Love, when Aeneas did depart;  
Ne'er rend kind Dido with a deeper wound,  
Than thy departure makes my Soul to stound:  
Even like Palmeno, paunting on his Bed,  
Still wishing Death, or else his aim to wed.  
But more kind Turtle-set, O Heart-growne-griefe!  
To groan, till Heavens soon send my plaints relief;  
I see ebb fords, though shallow, bellowing roar,  
Whilst deepest streams, in silence court the Shore;  
So mighty Cares grow mute, when slender woes  
Find choicest terms, slight sorrows to disclose:  
As deepest Love is ever safest kept,  
So is pale grief more sadly closed, than wept:  
What then, though woes get words, I'll deeply mourn  
With sighs, salt tears, and sobs, till Thy return.  
The wasting Winter of the Summer's gain,  
Ne'er wished the Spring, the Spring, the Harust again;  
With more celerity, than I implore  
Thy Presence, were as oft renewed, and more.  
Like to the Day-worne Pilgrim, shut from light;  
Closed with dark Coverts of the cloudy night,  
Longs for the Aurore of the sequel Morn,  
To see the face-blushd Thetis Son, new borne:  
So I wrapped up, within the gloomy shade  
Of sad oblivion, am a Mourner made;  
Till thy return, (like to Nocturnal dew,)  
Resume, refresh this flame, that burns for you:  
Which soon I wish might be reveiued and seen,  
Clad with like glory, as Thou now hast been:  
Which if it were reciprocal, O well!  
My Comforts could above my grief excel:  
Yet since Thine absence must my Patience prove;  
I'll cease to mourn, but never cease to love.  
Then in a word, (though thousands lie in store)  
I'll end, and thus, on my low knees implore;  
Yea Heavens which shadow, and protect just KINGS,  
With MIGHT and MERCY; deoperculat wings,  
Of LIGHT and GLORY, still save, and defend  
Mine happy MONARCH, both in life, and end,  
With present BLESSINGS, future HOPES in JOVE,  
PEACE here on EARTH, and hence eternal LOVE.  
FINIS.