AN ELEGY ON JAMES SCOT, Late Duke of MONMOUTH.  

THOU Plague, and Bane of Mortals, Flattery,  
Of Humane-kind, half are undone by Thee.  
How is th' Unfortunate Wracked Merchant lost?  
From thy false Hope of some Rich Indian Coast,  
Betrayed by Thee, to perish in a Wave;  
Thine the hid Rock, and Thine his watery Grave.  
Why does the Traitor Plot, or Rebel Storm,  
And Canting Zealots Church and State Reform?  
Led only by Thy Visionary Dreams;  
Till in pursuit of Crowns and Diadems,  
With many a Restless Night and tugging Groan,  
They mount a Scaffold whilst they seek a Throne.  
Nor by Thee only loaded Gibbets bow,  
And yawning Graves attend Thy Fatal Blow;  
For even by Thee Aspiring Angels fell▪  
False Hopes of Heaven made the first step to Hell.   

Such, Monmouth, was Thy Fall; this Tempter stood,  
Poisoning thy Ear, and cank'ring all thy Blood;  
To thy Fond Eye with Artful Phantoms filled  
The Treacherous Magnifying Mirror held;  
Showed a poor Shrub a Royal Cedar-Plant,  
And beautified thy Glass to Adamant.  
Here, poor lost Monmouth, lay the Fatal Snare,  
Thy Life, thy Fame, thy All, were Ship wracked here.  
Once the Bright Leader of a Shining Train,  
The Constellations in Great CHARLES his Wain;  
Till from thy Forfeit glittering Orb of Light,  
By Black Ingratitude, T'eternal Night,  
Too Justly doomed, and down all headlong driven,  
A Falling-Star from thy once Native Heaven.   

On what Foundation does Ambition rise?  
In all its Luster, Crowned with Victories,  
Yet cemented with Blood, By Treason built,  
An Airy Glory raised on Solid Gild:  
But Crushed and Damned by heavens revenging Hand,  
To Public Shame, and an Eternal Brand:  
What a dull Page in the Black-Book of Fame  
Will Monmouth fill with a poor Blasted Name?  
Where's all th' Hosannah's of the Shouting Crowd?  
Will their kind Sorrows speak but half so loud?  
No! wretched Thing, that Popular Wind's blown over:  
HEAVEN and Great JAMES do their lost Sense restore,  
And the old Prince o'th' Air now reigns no more.  
Vnmourned farewell, thy Hearse even unbedewed  
By thy own once Adoring Multitude.  
And if a Tear falls from a pitying Eye,  
The Mournful Cause does that sad Drop supply,  
Is not thou dyed'st, but didst deserve to Diego  
Deserved indeed: for never Man possessed  
Of such vast Royal Smiles, so raised, so blest,  
Apostatised like Thee.—  
Nay, even thy Tears had learned to forge so well,  
That when at CHARLES and James' Feet they fell,  
Thy very Penitence played the Infidel.  
So fallen from Faith, thou turnedst Perfidious too,  
Even to thy own assisting Rebel Crew;  
Whilst thy Argyle and Rumbold's latest Breath  
Damned thy false Vows and Cursed Thee even in Death.   

But let thy Buried Faults forgotten lie,  
And Monmouth's Crimes with bleeding Monmouth die.  
And to allow Thee still thy Just Applause,  
We'll praise thy Valour, though we loathe thy Cause.  
Nay, and to make thy Fame yet larger Room,  
And strew some Sweets even on a Rebel's Tomb;  
Thy Storm but rose to drive our Clouds away,  
And thy Black Morn began our Halcyon Day.  
Whilst Thy Rebellion does our Bliss complete,  
A Kingdom Happy made, and Monarch Great;  
For Treason's to Eternal Silence doomed,  
And grinning Faction in thy Urn entombed;  
Whilst Angels to Great JAMES his Guard move down,  
And Jacob's Ladder waits on Caesar's Crown.  
Some Honour than is even to Treason due;  
So Judas' Crime some Glory challenged too.  
Whilst even that Gild, where the perfidious Slave  
Betrayed his GOD and Master to a Grave.  
Was Instrumental a whole World to save.    

This may be Printed,  
July 16. 1685. R. L. S.   

LONDON: Printed for C. W. and are to be sold by Walter Davis in Amen-Corner. 1685.