THE EXCLAIMS OF RHODOPÆA.  
To the lamentable Death of the most Noble Marquis of MONTROSE.  
Together with a reflection to his most Honourable Exequys in the great Church of EDINBURGH.  
Writtten formerly, and now published at his Honourable Interment.  
Printed in the Year, 1661.   

AS the bringing in of Cromwell, after his Victory over ourselves, into the Castle of Edinburgh; and showing him all our great things, looked like the reception of the Ambassadors of Babel in. Jerusalem: so therein was prefigured his shameless Victory over that place which followed. And to that purpose then, (not without mine own pathetic,) and in this ejaculation, I expressed myself. Wherefore, and because it containeth what was seen in the causes thereof now accomplished, and amongst the rest, the honour of this day; I have made this which had not confidence to look the Sun before in the face, my mite; Howsoever too familiar for this time, and even below what I think my present.   

THE EXCLAIMS OF RHODOPE.  

DIapered Rhodope with flowers and gods,  
Is blasted now, blown, flown from their abodes.  
The mountains Angeline, her Roses fall,  
Fair Rhodopaea weeps: and most of all,  
The guardian Genius of the Kingdoms, at  
The horror thereof shrinks: God just and great  
Leaves man unto himself: Man doth what none  
Dare speak of now: nor ever world saw done,  
Which after age will, to th'eternal fame,  
Of him who's dead; and the wide world's great shame,  
Who killed him for the fault, for which no man  
Did ever yet die, since the world began.   

That heavenly piece of Empyraeum, out  
Of the supremst of all the heavens cut:  
Inspired with a soul, appearing through  
His more material tralucence, with no  
Less than what is above man, Great Montrose,  
Who to be loyal before greatness chose.  
And when our expeditious horses did,  
Beyond a Subjects common mark proceed:  
And on the borders of Soveragnity,  
Took unto them too wide a liberty;  
He in his circle, at his own post stayed,  
And what is come to pass out on us cried  
When we, what was the good gift of God, thought  
The Covenant within our Kingdom brought;  
And did our walls threatening the clouds divide,  
And gates capaceous to it opened wide,  
Which hath so many armed men let out,  
Whom by our wisdom we did make so stout.  
Who with a high born hand undid the King  
And did on fire itself set, and will bring  
Our State and Church into confusion and  
Threatneth with ruin to subdue our Land:  
He, when the fatal ropes thereof we drew  
Exclaimed no credit to the horse give you.  
But as Divine she who the overthrow  
Of her own Country did to it forshow,  
And was not heeded till all was undone,  
And all the Towers of Troy were overthrown:  
When they would gladly have prevented what  
They else might done to have preserved their State,  
So this great Man in the own causes eyed  
Th'event of what we have found true and tried;  
What reason and what opposition could  
Do, to prevent what he to us foretold,  
And warned us of our enemy's falsehood, and  
The ruin of the King and of the Land  
By those with whom we were so far combined  
In action, one, much probable in mind;  
And to the cause did set a breast of Brass  
To the prevention of what's come to pass.  
And when we saw, that if we had done so,  
We had far less than now we have to do.  
And even were glad the cause to take in hand  
Which he by word and deed had so maintained.  
The abstract and the lookingglass wherein  
Antiquities Nobility did shine  
In maintenance of no Idea as  
Others have done and let the substance pass,  
Did by his valour win the Kingdom, and  
Before him did acquit the whole Land,  
And did the willing Subject in head bring  
Of just obedience to their native King.  
For all which he had said or done, or we  
By black experience had so found to be,  
Without respect to God or man, or King,  
Or what ourselves might on ourselves thus bring,  
By paving way to others to be trodden,  
In a respectlesnesse to Noble Blood,  
To be hanged for their faults another day  
When Justice happily again might sway.  
We did condemn him without hearing, nor  
Suffered his innocence, in his cause, more  
Or less to speak, but haled him at length,  
Where after triumph he died in full strength;  
And with him many a guiltless and poor soul  
Were partly killed, and partly put in roll  
With that black letter, which over they did breathe  
The wholesome air, sealed, which they died, their death,  
And as when full, with all her Stars the Moon  
At rising of the Sun doth then go down:  
So when the King much like a ●●it Bridegroom  
Or strong man like to run his race, did from  
His Tabernacle or Chalmber come, Montrose  
And all his Stars did set, and mongst all those  
Drummond and Dalgetie did come in ●eer  
Like morning ones, and last did disappear.  
This was the end of this great Man whose breath  
His nostrils held; content nor with his death,  
Nor with the manner: But to let men see  
By his example what Nobility  
Respect hath to plead for, when this strange shaene  
May turned about be to our play again.  
We with the wicked gave him not a grave,  
Nor it allowed his quartered Corpse to have;  
And further did, than I my tongue will let  
Therein imbrued be, with the telling it.  
Which was not thy misfortune man, great souled  
Which brought thee to what unheard rigour could  
Commence on wickedness, nor in thee fault,  
Which thee above thyself did so exalt:  
But it was God who did it to his Glory  
Which will be seen in end of thy death's story,  
When the avengers of thy blood shall come,  
When there shall not a City be to run  
For refuge to; or for all those who hath  
Been brought before to an untimely death,  
By such a violence unheard before,  
Sometimes in Battle without Quarter, or  
By Law, against the Law, which for my part  
I ever thought me bound to in my heart  
And swore to have maintained; And many one,  
Who in the quarrel have their lives laid down,  
The least part of us all, from Stuart, who  
Was first, to Drummond last, which well known two  
Did close the bedroll ends, which did contain  
So many of us all, as have been slain  
And 'mongst the rest, Thou great Duke Hamiltoun,  
Although thy blood did not our streets run down,  
Thy death was  thou died, applaused by  
A volley of our great'st Artaillery;  
In thy great Armies fatal overthrow,  
Which we undid, and Victor made our foe,  
Unto whose triumphs we his Trophies made,  
And in his honour set out all we had,  
Glory and strength; and to our strong Holds brought  
The Enemy who shame and loss had wrought;  
That arch of Traitors who it seconded  
By doing after of a far worse deed,  
In putting in the Lords Anointed hand  
Whom we, though not sworn aught to have maintained,  
The world but one eye had, and he it quit  
put out, and dimmed both us and him in it.  
No King protestant was more upon earth  
To whom he suffered not air to give breath,  
And as we had been emulous, a little,  
After the great breaking of that but brittle  
Vessel, which glorious his soul held, which shall  
Shine, to give light, to their destruction all,  
Who either to the Altar bound or cut  
So innocent a sacrifices throat.  
To the atonement whereof if Art  
Might make imperchment where there is no part,  
Old Huntley's blood was shed, who yet did never  
Much evil, and was forced to deliver  
His soul up, on the passion eve to be  
A sprinkling our door posts upon, when the  
Destroying Angel of God shall ,  
Judgement to execute on whosoever,  
Hath broke the oath of God, or out have stood  
In th'evil matter of the Royal Blood:  
Or the Arch-traitor come back to revew  
What needlessly our follies our foe show  
(Which never yet was fortunate) who may  
Be master of the same and bear away  
What he before had seen, when God may let  
Us see, he hath not, blessing given to it.  
These Agnu's This are on the fatal thread,  
Whereon the number of our stain are thread.  
Which the whole world hath taken, and a chain  
Thereof made it about our necks to hang,  
Whereon these Noble two Peers do make up  
A carbuncle on either shoulders top.  
And thou Montrose, who more than all the rest  
Didstst for thy Master, shinest in the breast,  
Whereat the Tablet hangs which of all there  
The Phoenix Jewel is, nor other where,  
Wherein is Printed the eternal face,  
Flushing his Royal Innocence and Grace.  
We killed Thee, the day when we our King  
Did in our Israel receive to reign,  
For fight for thy Sovereign, when he fled  
O'er Jordan, where his Sacred Blood was shed.  
And ere the Red blushed on the White and spread  
The Rose were cropped, and the tree was sued.  
And his kind friends only themselves content,  
On th'oderiferous sweetness of his scent.  
Which when cold North did on his Garden blow,  
Did from the perfumes of his Spices flow,  
Into the Air innobling so him by  
The Incense of a lasting memory:  
When we who now joy, may as sore lament  
When time shall make a late time to repent:  
Let us that mistake colour as we will  
No colour will be to put on that ill,  
And as the world hath now seen one, will see  
Another as sad a catastropee.   

The Lord of all things had before decreed,  
The time he lived, and the time he died,  
Which being now come to a period, he  
Gave him into our hands, this death to die,  
That our cup thereby being better filled,  
All of us might, who should be killed, killed.  
And inexcusable made that God may  
Be just when he condemneth us, and they  
The Crown gain of their labour: 'Gainst what hath  
Been sealed, it seems, with signet of God's wrath.  
Whereto example nor command had yet,  
World nor reproof for not doing that great  
Work, which hath such confusion State brought on,  
And Church, that from the Beggar to the Throne  
An universal suffering hath been, and  
With guiltless crying blood is filled the Land:  
Murdered is King, State, and Religion lost,  
And what we thought to have maintained most,  
And what we sureliest thought to stand and swore,  
In such a manner never done before.  
However, God did bring him to his end,  
Who most the Kingly Interest did defend:  
That debt of death since he was once to pay,  
Though circumstances odious make the way,  
He but God's business joined to his own  
As't in his way lay, who them both hath done.  
His soul the world but left, and now is gone  
Unto the heavenly Mansions tendered one:  
The wings of Angels, or conveyed did fly,  
Loosed from the carnal fetters of her clay,  
In twinkling of an eye, as all before  
Him, so the Saints did pass into their glore,  
And his Great Master, when upon the brink,  
His Sacred Head bowed down to take a drink,  
Of the fair River of Eternity,  
He was devoured of immortality,  
So, in a moment, what no charity  
Can otherwise judge, hath he perched so high.  
'Tis true, he's thought a murderer by the State,  
And by the Church is Excommunicate,  
And who are bound or loosed here below,  
Are bound in heaven and loosed are also  
Which either groundless makes our charity,  
Or what in both I would be loath to say:  
Yet if what Church or State have done agree,  
With what example or command can be  
In Word of God, than all is true is done,  
And in the end the event will it crown.  
We Reformation did intent, but mean  
Took thereto, which, if God did it ordain,  
It doth transcend the model of what either,  
Nature or he bestowed upon me ever:  
Nor for Religion or security,  
Did world hear like, or will it justify.   

But thou who shutest, and canst open, and  
The key of that closed Cabin haste in hand;  
Wherein, if subtleties be locked, which fret  
The cloak will, which hath palliate our State.  
Once open thou, and that Gold button string  
Cut, wherewith we the cloak about us hang,  
And let it fall, and all the mysteries  
Of State discover, and iniquities  
If any be: Or if it be mistake  
Or prejudice which us beyond us take,  
Or led by any zeal to do more than  
God for himself did ever us ordain.   

O Edinburrow where those have been killed,  
Who's Carcases have all thy ditches filled,  
And where those never matched Counsel sat,  
Which have in such a model cast our state:  
The Sun which hath those blind works seen, which none  
Else have, but what unto themselves are known,  
May see the shaene changed, which discover shall  
The mystery wherein enfolded all.  
The pack of these breast businesses are  
Which hath destruction made, boodshed and War,  
And either shall see loosed that Gordian knot,  
Or bundle of our great'st mistakes see cut,  
Or our eyes opened, that the wonders we  
May of thy Law see, when all those shall be  
Who should be killed; killed; and time about  
Be punished for the fault we never thought.   

O Thou who dwellest in the extremes of light,  
And ends inhabitest of infinite,  
To which is no access, nor eye of man  
Did ever penitrat, nor enter can  
The secret thereof, wit: O Thou who hast  
All things of nothing made, and even them cast  
In mould of excellence; and each in it  
Kind dutiful made, and the world hath set  
In heart of man, who yet the work cannot  
From the beginning wrought by thee find out:  
Grant me humility; and to suspend  
My judgement, till I see in things an end.  
But mean while give me leave thus much to say,  
I search have made, and only this found I,  
That God hath made men upright, but they have  
Many inventions sought which them deprave.    

To the most Honoured Exequys of the Great and Blessed MONTROSE.  

THat Heavenly piece of Empyraeum, out  
Of the supream'st of all heavenly, cut;  
Inspired with a soul, appearing throw  
His more material tralucence, with no  
Less than what is above man; Great Montrose,  
Who to be Loyal before greatness chose;  
When by man's wisdom, without Gods, the King,  
Church, State had murdered, darkened, ruin'd been,  
He through blood waded, with a breast of Brass  
To the prevention of what's come to pass,  
And when he had done all, he up at last,  
In the flame, which had him still burned past:   

Where he above is Angelled, and below  
To their shame's honoured, who repent it now.   J. M. O.