The works of Alexander Pennecuik of New-Hall, M.D.; containing the description of Tweeddale, and miscellaneous poems. A new edition, with copious notes, forming a complete history of the county to the present time. To which are prefixed, memoirs of Dr Pennecuik, and a map of the shire of Peebles, or Tweeddale |
 |
|
THE TRAGEDY OF THE DUKE DE ALVA, alias GRAY-BEARD,
|
|
 | The works of Alexander Pennecuik |  |
331
THE TRAGEDY OF THE DUKE DE ALVA, alias GRAY-BEARD,
Being the Complaint of the Brandy Bottle lost by a poor Carrier, having fallen from the Handle, and found again by a Company of the Presbytery of Peebles, near to Kinkaidylaw, as they returned from Glasgow, immediately after they had taken the Test.
It fell upon the month of November,A fatal fall my body did dismember;
Many shall tell the tale that never saw
The Brandy Bottle of Kinkaidylaw;
Where, groaning on the ground, I chanc'd to spy
Two men in black devoutly passing by;
So, when my feeble voice their ears could reach,
Poor ancient Gray-beard thus began to preach:
O sons of Levi! messengers of grace,
Have some regard to my old reverend face,
My broken shoulder, and my wrinkled brow,
Plead fast for pity and supply from you;
Help, godly Sirs, and, if it be your will,
Convey me safely home to Biggar-Mill,
Where wand'ring to the widow, I was lost,
Alas! I fear the Carrier pays the cost;
Poor soul, if this mischance should him betide,
He has no more in all the world beside.
They did not relish this discourse of mine,
But vow'd the poor should be put out of pine;
And brought me prisoner to Kinkaidylaw,
Where more of that black company I saw:
Fy, Sirs! said I, You have at Glasgow been,
Swearing allegiance to your God and King;
So do not superadd so foul a deed,
And take poor Gray-beard's blood upon your head;
332
Were he but here whose picture I present;
And yet, before we part, I'll so prevail,
The best of you shall strive to kiss my tail:
This I was taught, when Gray-beard was a child,
That pure religion, and undefil'd,
Did cause the widow's heart to sing for joy,
And fill'd their bottles; you their life destroy.
At first they pitied my cold lifeless skin,
But when they found a cordial heat within,
They quickly flock'd about and me surrounded,
And cruelly into the heart me wounded;
They cried, De Alva never took the Test,
Therefore, rank Papist, go into thy rest,
And brag of thy right honourable tomb,
When thou art buried in a Tester's womb.
Right blyth they were, and drank to one another,
And ay the word went round, Here's to you brother:
I love thy blood so well, says Master Bo,
Thy bones to Tweed shall in procession go.
At last, the hostess of the house comes in,
Finding the brethren in a merry pin,
She tells them, that a Carrier poor had lost
That Brandy Bottle whereof they did boast,
And for a sure unquestionable token,
Look with your eyes, see where the handle's broken;
So, grave and reverend Sirs, be but so handsome
As take a double gill for Gray-beard's ransom.
At which their godly wisdoms were confounded,
For they had no intention to refund it,
Till one stood up, in name of all the rest,
And vow'd he bought it when he took the Test;
So be he rich or poor, the bottle lost,
Doomsday shall come before we pay the cost.
This wife will lodge none since, be it Paul, be it Peter,
If once they swear the Test, for fear they cheat her.
333
Search all the squads of troopers and dragoons,
Survey the land, try rakes that rant at cards,
Search Mar and Lithgow's regiments of guards.
Such spritty liquor cures us of all sorrow,
Courage, we'll take another Test to-morrow;
And after all is done, we can recant,
And swear to Tendor, Test, or Covenant:
While we are here we'll no sweet comfort shun,
There is no brandy in the world to come.
Post mortem nulla voluptas.
| The works of Alexander Pennecuik | |