THE SPEECH OF A FIFE LAIRD; NEWLY COME FROM GRAVE.  

WHat accident, what strange mishap,  
Awakes me from my heavenly nap?  
What spirit? what Godhead by the lave,  
Hath raised my Body from the Grave?  
It is an hundred years almost,  
Since I was buried in the dust:  
And now I think that I am living,  
Or else, but doubt, my brains are raving:  
Yet do I feel (while as I study)  
The faculties of all my Body:  
I taste, I smell, I touch, I hear,  
I find my sight exceeding clear:  
Then I'm alive, yea sure I am,  
I know it by my corporal frame:  
But in what part where can I be,  
My wavering brains yet tortures me.  
Once I was called a great Fyff Laird,  
I dwelled not far from the Hall-yard.  
But who enjoys my Land and Pleugh,  
My Castle, and my fine Cole-heugh:  
I can find out no living man,  
Can tell me this, do what I can:  
Yet if my memory serve me well,  
This is the Shire where I did dwell:  
This is the part where I was born:  
For lo, beneath me stands Kinghorn:  
And there about the Lowmond hill,  
Stands as it stood yet ever still.  
There is Bruntiland, Aberdore,  
I see Fyffs coast alongst the shore.  
Yet I am right, for my life,  
This is my native Country Fyff.  
O but it's long and many a year,  
Since last my feet did travel here.  
I find great change in old Lairds places,  
I know the ground, but not the faces.  
Where shall I turn me first about,  
for my acquaintance is worn out?  
O this is strange that even in Fyff,  
I do know neither Man nor Wife;  
No Earl, no Lord, no Laird, no People,  
But Lesly and the Mark-inch steeple.  
Old noble W●eems, and that is all,  
I think enjoys their Farhers' hall.  
For from Dumfermling to Fyffs-ness,  
I do know none that doth possess  
〈◊〉 Grandsires Castles and his Towers:  
〈◊〉 is away that once was ours.  
〈◊〉 full of wrath, I scorn to tarry,  
I ●now them no more than the Fairy:  
〈◊〉 I admire and marvel strange.  
What is the cause of this great change?  
I hear a murmuring report,  
Passing amongst the common sort:  
For some says this, and some says that,  
And others tell, I know not what?  
Some says the Fyff Lairds ever rews,  
Since they began to take the Lews:  
That bargain first did brew their bail,  
●s tells the honest men of Crail.  
Same doth ascribe their supplantation,  
Into the Lawyer's Congregation.  
●o, but this is a false suppose.  
For all things wits that well not goes,  
●e what it will, there is some source  
●ath bred this universal curse:  
This transmigration and earthquake,  
●hat caused the Lairds of Fyff to break.  
He that enthrones a shepherdling,  
He that dethrones a potent King:  
And he that makes a Cotter Laird,  
The Barrous Bairns to delve a Yard.   

Almighty, he that shakes the Mountains,  
And brings great rivers from small fountains  
It is the power of his hand,  
That makes both Lords & Lairds have land.  
Yet there may be, as all men knaws,  
An evident and well seen cause:  
A public and a common evil,  
That made the meekle Master-devil  
To cast his Club all Fyff throughout,  
And lent each Laird a deadly rout.   

Mark then, I'll tell you how it was,  
What way this wonder came to pass:  
It sets me best the truth to pen,  
Because I fear no mortal men.  
When I was born a meddle-yerd wight,  
There was no word of Laird or Knight:  
The greatest Styles of honour than,  
Was to be tituled the Goodman;  
But changing time hath changed the case,  
And puts a Laird in Goodman's place.  
For why? my Gossip Good man john,  
And honest james, whom I think on,  
When we did meet whiles at the haulking,  
We used no cringes, but hands shaking,  
No bowing, shouldering, gambe-scraping:  
No French whistling, or Dutch gaping:  
We had no Garments in our Land,  
But were spun by the Goodwives hand;  
No Drape de-berry, clothes of seal:  
No stuffs ingrained in Cusheneal:  
No Plulsh, no Tushue, Cramosie:  
No China, Turkey, Toffaty:  
No proud Piropus, Paragon,  
Or Chackerallay, there was none:  
No Figurata, or Water-camblet:  
No Bishops-satine, or silk Chamblet,  
No cloth of Gold, or Bever-hats,  
We cared more for then the Cats:  
Nor windy flourishing flying Feathers,  
Nor sweet permusied shambo leathers:  
No hilt nor crampet richly hatched:  
A lance, a sword in hand we snatched:  
Such base and boyish vanities,  
Did not beseem our dignities:  
We were all real and complete,  
Stout for our Friends, on horse or feet,  
True to our Prince to shed our blood,  
For Kirk, and for our common good.  
Such men we were, it is well known,  
As in our Chronicles are shown.  
This made us dwell into our land,  
And our Posterity to stand:  
But when the young Laird became vain,  
And went away to France and Spain,  
Rome racking, wand'ring here and there:  
O than began our bootless care.  
Pride puffed him up because he was  
Far travelled, and returned an Ass.  
Then must the Laird, the Goodman oy,  
Be Knighted strait, and make convoy,  
Coach through the street with Horses four,  
Foot-grooms pasmented o'er and o'er.  
Himself cut out and slashed so wide,  
En'n his whole shirt his skin both hide.  
Gowpherd, gratnizied, cloaks rear pointed  
Embroidered, laced, with boots disjointed:  
A belt embossed which Gold and pearl:  
False hair made craftily to curl:  
Side breeches bebuttoned o'er the garters,  
Was ne'er the like seen in our quarters.  
Tobacoo and wine Frontinack,  
Potato pasties, Spanish sack,  
Such uncouth food, such meat and drink,  
Could never in our stomach sink:  
Then must the Granure swear and swagger,  
And show himself the bravest bragger.  
A bon-companion and a drinker,  
A delicate and dainty ginker.  
So is seen on't. These foolish gigs,  
Hath caused his Worship sell his rigs.   

Sy Lady, as she is a woman,  
Is born a helper to undo man.  
Her Ladyship must have a share,  
For she is playmaker and mair;  
For she invents a thousand toys,  
That house and hold and all destroys,  
As scarves, shephrons, tuffs and rings,  
Fairdings, face. powerings'  
Rebats, revands, bands and ruffs,  
Lapbands, shagbands, cuffs and muffs,  
Folding outlayes, pearling sprigs,  
Ateries, vardigals, periwigs:  
Hats, hoods, wyrs and kells,  
Washing-balls, perfuming smells:  
French gows cut out and double banded,  
jet rings to make her pleasant handed:  
A fan, a feather, bracelets, gloves,  
All new-come busks she dearly loves:  
For such trim bony baby clouts,  
Still on the Laird she greets and shouts:  
Which made the Laird take up more gear,  
Then all the Land and ●igs could bear.  
These are the Emblems that declares  
The Merchant's thriftless, needless wares,  
The Tailor's curious vanity,  
My Lady's prodigality.  
This is the truth which I discover:  
I do not care for feed or favour:  
For what I was, yet still I am,  
An honest, plain, true dealing man;  
And if these words of mine would mend them  
I care not by though I offend them:  
Her● is the cause most plainly shown,  
That hath our Countrey-overthrown,  
It's said of old, that others harms,  
Is oftentimes the wise man's arms:  
And he is thought most wise of all,  
That learns good from his neighbour's fall.  
It grieves my heart to see this age,  
I cannot stay to act more stage:  
I will engrave me in the ground,  
And rest there till the trumpet sound:  
And if I have said ought affray,  
Which may a messons mind dismay,  
I do appeal before the throne  
Or the great powers, three in one;  
The Supreme Sovereignty,  
The Parliament of verity.  
And if you think my Speech offends,  
Ye must be there, I's make amendss.   
FINIS.   

Mercurius Scotus Hybernicus. P. M.