THE GOLDEN ISLAND OR the DARIAN SONG In Commendation of All Concerned in that Noble Enterprise Of the VALIANT SCOTS.  
By a Lady of Honour.  
EDINBURGH Printed by John Reid, and are to be sold at his Printing-House in Bells-Wynd, 1699.   

THE GOLDEN ISLAND Or the Darian Song in Commendation of All Concerned in that Noble Interprize of the Valiant SCOTS.  
SOME Slumbering thoughts possessed my brain,  
was Prophesied of Old,  
That ALBANY should Thrissels spread,  
o'er all the Indian Gold.  
Me thought I heard the Valiant SCOTS  
beneath the Northern Poll,  
Rejoicing of their Prosperous Voyage,  
which England did Control.  
The Heavens did Favour them so Fair,  
they were into Death's Jaws,  
And Neptune bowed the lofty Seas,  
and humbled all her Waves,  
Until the Ransomed should pass  
that ventured on the Main.  
The English Great, than ventured twice,  
and were beat back again.  
Sol, Luna, Mars and Jupiter,  
Heaven's Canopy did keep.  
Be sure some Angel stiered our Helm,  
when some were fallen a sleep:  
To guide us to that Noble place,  
was promised us before,  
That will Enrich brave ALBANY,  
which Fame does still adore:  
It is ordained in Holy Write,  
Death paid our Sacrifice;  
The Thristle and the Reed Lion,  
will Crush our Enemies.  
We're Antipods to England now,  
win by a pleasant Toil.  
We've sailed the Gulf against the Tide,  
come to a Fruitful Soil.  
Who can express what we expect,  
since we are favoured so,  
The Lord has thought upon our slight,  
some thought to make us low:  
All Men that has put in some Stock,  
To us where we are gone;  
They may expect our Saviour's words  
a Hundred reap for One;  
For to Encourage every One  
that ventures on the Main.  
Come cast thy Bread on Waters great,  
thou'lt get it back again.  
The World durst never Scotland Brag,  
for Valour and Renown:  
Go pass the Line surrownd the Glob,  
not such an Ancient Crown.  
What One has slighted us before,  
not want of Honour sure:  
Brave Noble Spirits, in Ancient Land,  
only is called Poor.  
Our Enemies has the Sun shine,  
so well we know our Foes?  
But the Thrissel in the Lion's hand,  
'gainst Leopards and Rose;  
The Lord will mend the Broken Reed,  
and will not quench the spark:  
Our Enemies shall all fall down,  
as Dagon before the Ark.  
Fortune put on her Gilded Sails,  
went to the Antipods:  
Heathens received us with a Grace,  
as if we had been Gods.  
The Gales blew sweet, we Bless the LORD,  
for all our sails were full,  
King WILLIAM did Encourage us,  
against the English will.  
His Words is like a Stately Oak,  
will neither Bow nor Break;  
We'll venture Life and Fortune both,  
for Scotland and his sake,  
For he has done such valiant Acts,  
what Pen can him express?  
Lay down your Crowns and Battons all,  
that came by Adam's Race.  
What will be said in future times  
when Virtue yields her Flowers,  
The Babes unborn will then cry out,  
no Parent's like to Ours.  
This great Attempt is carried on,  
by Mortals that has breath,  
It seems the Lord does mind to send  
Christ's Gospel through the Earth:  
To writ the parts of these brave Men,  
that has sent us away:  
The Vialactia smiles to see,  
Scotland's new Nuptial day.  
The Harp played us a pleasant spring,  
and Neptune took a dance,  
Made Monsiur Flower-de luce to fall,  
into a deadly Trance.  
When we were on the Darian Main,  
and viewed that Noble Land,  
The Trees joined hands and bowed low,  
for Honour of Scotland.  
Young Native Babes that never spoke,  
Dame Nature bade them cry,  
And utter forth some joyful Notes,  
to welcome ALBANY!  
Refreshing springs and Rivolats  
when we were Landed there,  
Came glidding with her Jumbling Notes,  
invits us to take share;  
The chearming birds, that haunts the Woods,  
Meavis, Peacock and Dove,  
Brought Presents in their mouths, and sang  
we pay Tribute to you.  
We went in Boats▪ and come to Land,  
which banished all our fears.  
The Seas did mourn for want of us,  
each Oat was drooping Tears.  
The wolf, the Lion, and the Boar,  
the Wyld Tigger and Fox,  
Did fill their Claws with Golden Dust,  
salutes us from the Rocks.  
The Tottels in the Indian Seas,  
left Eggs upon the Land,  
And came to see that Noble Fleet,  
was come from Old Scotland.  
The Hurtchon came out of the Woods,  
her prickels Load with Fruit,  
She mumbled, but she could not speak,  
ye're welcome all come eat.  
The Balmy Grass, and blooming Flowers,  
were all covered with dew;  
Then Phoebus bid them give a smell,  
and that would pay their due.  
The Seas began to roar for joy  
when we were all past through,  
And Neptune with's great Harry Rains,  
to us was like a Loach;  
And still we bless the LORD of Hosts,  
and all our Benefactors,  
And drank a health to ALBANY,  
for all our Brave Directors.  
Nilus' Banks did Overflow  
only but Egypt's land:  
But your Fame will the World Ov'rspread,  
and Banks of Heathen sand.  
We have another Fleet to sail,  
the Lord will Reik them fast;  
It will be wonderful to see,  
the Sun rise in the West!  
If I should name each One concerned,  
according to their station,  
Ten Quair of paper would not do,  
it's known by true Relation:  
For some are Noble, All are Great;  
Lord bless your Company,  
And let your Fame in Scotland's Name  
O'erspread both Land and Sea.  
FINIS.