ELEGY On the Universally Lamented Death, of DUNCAN RONALD: Director Depute of the Chancelary, and Writer to his Majesty's Signet.  
Who died at EDINBURGH, August 1700.  

D  
This year at Rome the Jubilee doth stand;  
But whether Death or Pope doth most Command,  
My Querie! pray tell me Trauler now,  
Where Death inhabits, Reigns, and pays his vow!  
If you can tell me, where this King do Lodge;  
I'll be thy vassal, and thy sorley Drudge.   

U  
Death! Death! our Kings, our Queens, our Nobles all,  
Our Knights, our Barons, Lairds, by thee they fall;  
Our Dives, Lazrus, Senecas, and Lords;  
Can never scape thy deadly fatal Cords.  
Why is it so! By hear us alone decree,  
Men must be living, also men must die   

N  
But ah! Death, now thou carries high thine hand,  
Thou soars aloft; we cannot thee Command:  
Thou shoots (like Cupid) Arrows from the Skies,  
Thou sends thy darts, 〈…〉 the mortal Dies,  
Ah me! why so! can nothing 〈…〉  
〈…〉 Dimonds' never 〈…〉   

C  
No, no, say'th Death: for why! my time is come,  
My Sceptre Crown, are old and Reign nigh run▪  
I'm but a vassal of the powers above▪  
I must display the Banner of my love.  
For Death's my name, a Lion I must be,  
Until my day's be turned to Eternity.   

A  
Now Judgements nigh, the World is near an end;  
My Sword is sharpest when I must Defend,  
My cause; and my Commission I display,  
When dust I send to Dust their Natives clay.  
So Queries are but idle, vain to thee;  
Read Birth, Death, Judgement and Eternity.   

N  
For if I could have spared a Lov'ly Face;  
Helen of Troy, might damped me with Grace.  
If Riches; Croesus might have bribed me then:  
If Grace or beauty, or the sons of men,  
Then might I have had Thousands at my hand,  
Of Absoloms, and solomon's to stand.   

If Learning Cicero, Seneca, these Wits,  
Would played me Music, when I took my Fits,  
also well as DAVID; But no Harmony  
Can Wound Me; Magic, cannot Blind mine Eye.  
Nay, Kings and Emperors are my Trophies still,  
Who then can Bribe me, who has all at Will.   

R  
Thy DUNCAN RONNALD, Depute of the Rolls,  
The Keeper of Thy Chartors, Seasines, Scrolls,  
Might been Preserved, if Grace or Parts might do:  
But who's the Man, I spare, of Candour, now.  
Yes, weep ye may, ye Scribes and Writers throng!  
But ye that Weep, must meet Me Ere't be long.   

O  
Kindness of Nature, Sympathy Indites,  
Our Mourning over RONNALD, and Invites:  
He was a Man of Geni●usness and Arts,  
Divine and Moral; Loved by Men of Parts.  
What's more; He had the Popular Applause,  
Of Commons, Learning's, Enemies, and Foes.   

N  
He carried Civil in his Post and Chair  
Of Honour's District, void of Anxious Fear;  
Content with Fortune, Providence's Decree,  
And vain Ambition, Emptiness did 〈…〉  
 
For fear of withering here among his Foes.   

A  
Well spoke, O Death! Crown Me with Mortal Rays,  
Come, stay no longer, quickly cut My Days;  
Since We must Pass to Heaven through Baca's Vale,  
Hoist Anchor, Death, set M●zons on thy Sail:  
For Die We must, before we come to be,  
With DUNCAN RONNALD in Prosperity.   

L  
For We must walk by Faith, as RONNALD did,  
And get Our Chartor-Party, to be ●id,  
In Our Recesses: Prayer must be the Key,  
Love and Assurance, twofold Charity.  
Then JESUS Merits, jacob's Ladder can,  
Make Scarlet Sins, made whiter than a Swan.   

D  
Death, Death, deny us Fate of Sudden Calls,  
Seize but Gradatim, ere you break Our Walls;  
Then Sound Thy Trumpet, as a Jona Shrill:  
Our Bodies Yield, decay to Dust they will.  
For Moulder Dwindle, and consume to Dust,  
Men (Dust they are) Return to it they must.   
Hoec raptim & cursum Composuit, Mr. GEORGE DEMPSTER