THREE ELEGIES: 

The First, to the MEMORY of Lieutenant-General Mackay.  
The Second, to the MEMORY of My Lord Angus, Only Son of the Marquis of Dowglas.  
The Third, to the MEMORY of Lieut. Colonel Fullerton.   Who were all Three Slain, at the Attacque at Steenkerken near Enguin, on July 24. St. Vet. August 3. St. Nou. Anno DOM. 16●2.  
Written by RO. FLEMING.  
EDINBURGH, Printed in the Year 1692   

To the Memory of Lieutenant-General Mackay.  
Who was Killed near Enguin, July, 14. August 〈…〉. 1692.  
Dignum Laude Virum  
Musa vetat mori.—  Horat. 

MAckay! what? that Great, that Noble Name,  
So loudly Honoured by the Voice of Fame?  
What, Dead? no sure, he lives, and ever shall,  
His Name no Grave admits, or Funeral.  
Let Death ore's Ashes triumph as its Spoil,  
His noble Fame's immortal as his Soul.  
For even whilst Death does his Exit boast,  
It sends his Glory to each Foreign Coast.  
Glory, which was the Centre of his Soul,  
Th, Vital Spirits, which through his Life did roll.  
Glory, which was not a mere Itch of Blood,  
Of doing things Extravagant, but Good.  
A Glory, which GOD did himself inspire,  
A Glory hallowed by Religious Fire.  
Thenceed was, he honoured all were Good and Brave,  
Pitied mere Fools, but hated every Knave.  
Thenceed was, his Pulse did beat with Generous Heat,  
And all his Presence, all his Life was Great.  
Thenceed was, his Thoughts, brave Projects still did form,  
Which he as bravely after did perform.   

Brave were his Actions, Noble was his Aim;  
And He that Nobly would declare the same,  
Must form such genuine Notions in his Thought,  
As may the Bravery show, wherewith he Fought.  
But who's alive, that hath the Art or Skill,  
To Pen those Actions, which may Volumes fill.  
Those Actions, which a Plutarch do require,  
Or a new Virgil with Poetic Fire,  
To dress this Hero in deserved Attire.   

But though it be a Work and Task too great  
For my affrighted Muse, for to narrate  
The Bravery of this Bravest Man, yet she  
Taught by his great Example scorns to flee;  
But does resolve on the Attempt, to tell  
How brave the Hero lived, how brave he fell.   

Nature did frame him in the Womb for War,  
And sent him in the very Bud afar;  
To do such Actions, even whilst a Youth,  
As did amaze all Hearts, and filled each mouth.  
Let Venice tell, how bravely then he fought,  
And with a Roman Courage Glory sought.  
Yea, let all Europe and the World say,  
If they'll but speak ingenuously, if they  
Did not admire the dawning of his Day.   

But those so many Actions, and so Great,  
Both First and Later, here for to relate,  
Do so Affright my Weak and bashful Muse;  
That She's resolved, but One or Two to choose  
Out of the Rest; to let the World know,  
How much all Europe to this Man doth owe.   

When our brave David did resolve to try,  
To save whole Britain from the Grave or die;  
Mackay, who Saul's Arts had long withstood,  
Resolved, in the Attempt to spend his Blood.  
And in the glorious Race did nobly start,  
And in each Step, as nobly did his Part.  
Of all the Hero's helped Him to the Throne,  
MACKAY is one of th' First, and yields to none.   

Let Scotland say, what Actions there he did,  
Which Spite of Envy's Clouds, cannot lie hid;  
What Wisdom and what Valour he did show  
In all Attacks against the Rebel Foe.  
Where, had all others been as brave and true,  
No need had been a Treaty to pursue  
With the poor, Conquered, Thieving Highland-Crew.   

Let Ireland's Coasts sound forth his glorious Name,  
And Echo-like reverberate his Fame;  
Since to none more she does her Freedom owe,  
Though Envy would o'recloud what all may know.   

Who was't? who at Athlone did lead the Van,  
And leapt into the River the first Man?  
Who with the first did scale the frighted Town,  
And at his Feet made th' Bloody Foe fall down?   

Is there a Man, to whom Red Agrim Fields,  
A fresher or a fairer Laurel yields?  
When he like Thunder on the Foe did Charge,  
And showed his Might was as his Courage large:  
When he the Fury of the Foe did quell,  
And by his Hand, the Sons of Anak fell.   

But it's too long in Verse for to declaim,  
Upon so great, and so diffused a Theme.  
Nay 'tis above th' Historians Art to show,  
In proper Colours th' Actions he did do.  
Wherefore my Muse Heroic thoughts lays by,  
And with faint Heart attempts his Elegy;  
Draws now the Curtain of the last sad Scene,  
And shows how he unto his Exit came.   

Near Enguin's Fields, it was resolved to try  
One brisk Attack upon the Enemy.  
There Wirtenberg the Danes did bravely lead;  
And bold Mackay marched glorious on the Head  
Of daring Scots and English, who that day,  
Resolved to make the French for Namur pay:  
Many together for this End were met,  
At the Suns rise, who ne'er did see him set.  
Brave was the Aim, and nobly was it laid,  
Brave to the Issue, even though-betrayed.  
Where, though too many brave men have been lost,  
Th' French, whom th' Fight a double Number cost  
Have little cause a Victory to boast.  
Nay, if one generous Spark in such remain,  
They can't but praise and wonder at the Slain:  
Who having broke through every Stop i'th'way,  
Made the Foe dearly for their Blood to pay.   

Ther't was Mackay Wonders did perform,  
Rolled through the Fields like an impetuous Storm,  
Forced all before him, till a fatal Ball,  
Stopped his Career. At whose so sudden fall,  
The Foe encouraged venture on anew,  
And with fresh Forces their Designs pursue;  
Then did our Soldier's Strength begin to tire;  
Yet did such things as made the French admire:  
But who needs wonder that they did Retire.  
Since brave Mackay their Heart and Life was gone,  
Whose Presence seemed an Army all alone.   

But since it was by Heaven thus decreed,  
That he must now from all his Toil be freed;  
Let's cease to Judge what we can never find,  
And prise the Example which he left behind:  
For in his Soul such Qualities did dwell,  
As rarely to a single Man e'er fell.   

He was whate'er could any one commend,  
Barve Soldier, Christian, Subject, Man and Friend.   
Illustrissimo Heroi, Carmina haec Exequi●●ia, Debita Musa. Exaravit, Cecinit, Posuit, R. F.   

To the Memory of My LORD Angus, Only Son of The MARQUIS of Dowglas,  
Who was slain near Enguin, July 24. S. Vet. 1692.  
Ostendunt Terris hunc tantum sata nec ultra  
Esse sinunt—  Virg. 

WHat? Angus dead! Let's stop and say no more;  
But with sad Sighs, and briny Tears, deplore  
The Common Loss: the Stroke is far too great  
For Words to tell, or Lines for to relate.   

But, what! Shall Silence then his Name o'recloud,  
As undistinguished from the Common Crowd?  
Shall we with Death, as Stupid, Sympathise,  
Which even a Tomb his dear Remains denies?  
Or shall no other Elegy be made  
To show his worth, but barely this; He's Dead?   

No, no; my Muse this Treachery doth scorn  
To see a Youth so Brave, so Nobly Born,  
In dark Oblivion have his Name to Rust,  
As if his Fame were Mortal as his Dust.  
No; we'll in this Death's Project Countermine,  
And Consecrate these Verses for his Shrine.   

Let then the World know how it is bereft  
Of such a glorious Flower, as Death has left  
Scarce such another standing on the Stage;  
A Flower, the glory of this Dwarfy Age.  
One, who with such a Radiant Lustre shone  
In thefirst Budding, as if fully grown.  
Who, though a Youth, did to such Virtue rise,  
As few, even in this Noon do e'er comprise.  
He was all Beauty; Lovely, Noble, Brave,  
Were the Perfections, which him Nature gave:  
And as his Birth and his Descent was high,  
So Glory was the Object of his Eye.  
Mean things he scorned, was in all things Great:  
His Life did show his Soul was Virtue's Seat.   

Sure, never Youth more Nobly did begin  
All Hearts and Honours Prise at once to win.  
His Morning-Sun did rise without a Cloud;  
But soon his Sky grew black with Thunder loud.  
Sweet Bud! soon blossomed, and soon nipped with cold;  
Yet worthy for to have thy Name enrolled  
I'th'list of thy Great Ancestors, whose names  
Fame loudly yet to all the World proclaims.  
Justly, alas! the Douglases bemoan  
Their state, since all their hopes with thee are gone.   

Alas! Sweet Youth, why wert thou made to be  
At once our Glory and our Misery?  
Ah! had not thy Perfections (just begun  
In Life's fair Morning) been Eclipsed so soon,  
We had admired and gloried in thy Noon.  
But Oh! as Angels tarry not on Earth,  
And Noble Souls make haste from panting Breath;  
So thou abruptly leaves thy Friends below,  
Just as the Laurel should have Crowned thy Brow:  
Thy Soul, the pure, the bright Ethereal Flame,  
In haste, Winged up from hence to whence it came.   

But why so fast? What haste for to be gone?  
So as thy flight was secret, seen by none.  
Why is it thy Great Ashes to us here,  
Though sought and sought again, do not appear?  
Is it because thou scornest Earthly Fame,  
And from the World withdraws thy very Name?  
Or is't not rather, that thy flight from Earth  
May be esteemed Translation, not a Death?   

Whate'er it be, Death has no cause to boast,  
As if thou wert all Shipwrackt here and lost.  
For as thy Soul's Immortal, so thy Name  
We do commit unto the Voice of Fame,  
A Monument lo to thy Worth and Praise,  
On lasting Pillars of strong Verse I raise,  
Verse, which because they sing of Thee, do claim  
To be Immortal, like their Noble Theme.   

This done, my Muse her part to Fame gives o'er,  
Until Eternity discover more.   
Nobilissimo Juveni Hoc qualecunque Monumentum Sacrum esse voluit, R. F.   

To the Memory of Lieutenant Colonel Fullerton:  
Who was Slain at Steenkerken, July 24. St. Ver. 1692.  O celeres hominum bonorum dies.— Apul. 

WHat sudden Thought rides Post through all my Breast?  
And does forbid my Muse to be at rest.  
It was but now She Spiritless did grow,  
Whilst She Mackay and Angus Worth did show;  
And did resolve to let a better Pen  
Record the Actions of such other Men:  
As in the late sad Scene conjoined did stand,  
And to th' Attack did give their helping Hand.  
But a new Name doth my Affections sway,  
And my poor Muse doth venture to obey.  
It's Fullerton. That Name doth Sound so big,  
I'th' Ears of each true Williamite and Whig,  
As was enough to fright a Rogue of late,  
Th' Object of his Envy and his Hate:  
Since there was none more nobly did despise  
Base sneiking Villains and their Treacheries.   

He bravely did set forth in Glories Race,  
And in no Action did belly his Face,  
His Face which sparkled with Majestic Grace:  
In which a Physiognamist could see,  
As in his Body, nought but Symmetry.  
For Nature, when she shaped and framed it,  
Resolved with care no Error to commit,  
As knowing that a noble Soul should dwell  
In that fair Fabric, which did show so well.  
A Noble Soul, which stored was with all  
Th' Attractive Virtues, which could one befall:  
Virtue, which did to all his Life dispense  
A constant universal Influence.   

Religion o'er his Soul did bear the sway,  
And he to God did hearty Homage pay:  
Was true unto his King and General,  
Kind to good men, and Courteous to all;  
Brave to his Friends, Affectionate to Her,  
Whose Love alternate ne'er from Him did stir.  
Brave was the End, which he did still design;  
To reach the which, he never did decline  
From the strict Rules of Virtues Sacred Line.  
Through all the Stops and Hardships which he met,  
He marched Victorious; even when he Set.   

When brave Argile and Monmouth joined to free  
The British Empire from the Tyranny  
Which did it threaten, he put to his Hand  
For the Defence of his dear Native Land.  
And, though the Project failed of the end,  
It served the more his Valour to commend;  
Who having Fought, till he could do no more,  
With noble Bravery adverse Fortune bore.   

Yea, Story scarce can show a Parallel,  
When he, to free th' unfortunate Argile,  
Did personate his Character and Style:  
Which having done, and he a Prisoner made,  
He forced again his Way, and bravely Fled.  
But though the Noble Peer was seized of new,  
(Such was his Fate) yet Fullerton did show  
That sacred Supposition to be true;  
That some brave Men there are dare shed their Blood,  
To save a Patriot for a Country's good   

When the great Orange triumphed on the Main,  
And justly did the British Sceptre gain;  
A second time he bravely ventured o'er  
With the fair Fleet, unto the longing Shore;  
And justly did deserve the Character,  
Which afterwards he did as bravely bear.  
And as he came in valiant ' Clieland's stead,  
He did unto his Spirit too succeed.   

But too too quick did his bright Taper burn,  
And blazed alas! too soon into the Urn.  
For in the fatal Fight, near Enguin Plains,  
This noble Youth, whose Life no Error stains,  
Was Called by Death to leave his dear Remains,  
There Major Ker his Valour too did show,  
And fearless did receive his mortal blow.  
There Fullerton did nobly Charge through all,  
Did nobly Fight and did as nobly Fall;  
Scorning to be obliged for Life, to those  
Who basely did both God and Truth oppose.   

And since he nobly thus did yield his Breath,  
Let us to Fame his noble Name bequeath.   
Optimo Fortissimoque Viro Versus hosce Lugubres Amica Musa. Effudit, Dicavit▪ R. F.