The Poetical Works of William Drummond of Hawthornden ::

Of those rare worthyes which adorn'd our North
And shin'd like constellationes, Thou alone
Remained last (great Maitland) chargd with worth,
Second on Vertues Theater to none:
But finding all eccentricke in our Tymes,
Relligione in superstition turn'd,
Justice silenc'd, renuersed or enurn'd,
Truth faith and charitie reputed crymes:
The young Men destinat'd by sword to fall
And Trophèes of their countryes spoiles to reare,
Strange lawes the ag'd and prudent to appall,
And force sad yokes of Tyrannie to beare,
And for nor great nor vertuous Mindes a Roome,
Disdaining life thou shrunke into thy Tombe.

193

[B.]

When Misdeuotione all-where shall haue place,
And loftie oratours in Thundring Termes
Shall moue you (people) to arise in armes
And churches hallowed policie deface:
When yee shall but one generall sepulcher
(As Auerröes did one generall soule)
On high on low, on good on bad confer,
And your dull predecessours Rites controule;
Ah! spare this Monument; Great Guestes it keepes,
Three graue justiciares whom true worth did raise;
The Muses Darlinges whose losse Phœbus weepes,
Mankynds delight, the Glorie of their Dayes.
More wee would saye, but feare and stand in aw
To turne Idolators and breake your law.

[C.]

Doe not repine (blest soule) that vulgare wittes
Doe make thy worth the matter of their verse,
No high-straind Muse our tymes and sorrowes fittes
And wee doe sigh, not sing, to crown thy Herse.
The wisest Prince e're manag'd Brittaines state
Did not disdaine in numberes cleare and braue
The vertues of thy syre to celebrate,
And fixe a rich Memoriall ou'r his Graue.
Thou didst deserue no lesse, and heere in iet,
Gold, Brasse, Touch, Porpherie, the Parian stone,
That by a princes hand no lines are set
For Thee; the cause is now this land hath none:
Such giant moodes our paritie forth bringes,
Wee all will nothing be or all be kinges.

University of Virginia Library

xxiii. To the Memory of [John, Earl of Lauderdale.]

[A.]

[B.]

[C.]