 | Muses threnodie |  |
499
THE MUSES THRENODIE.
Of Mr George Ruthven the tears and mournings,Amidst the giddie course of fortune's turnings,
Upon his dear friend's death, Mr John Gall,
Where his rare ornaments bear a part, and wretched Gabions all.
FIRST MUSE.
Now must I mourn for Gall, since he is gone,
And ye, my Gabions, help me him to mone;
And in your courses sorrow for his sake,
Whose matchless Muse immortal did you make.
Who now shall pen your praise and make you knowne?
By whom now shall your virtues be forth showne?
Who shall declare your worth?—is any able?—
Who dare to meddle with Apelles table?
Ah me! there's none!—And is there none indeed?
Then must ye mourn of force,—there's no remeed:
And I for my part, with you in my turne
Shall keep a dolefull comfort whilst ye mourne:
And thus with echoing voice, shall howl and cry—
Gall, sweetest Gall, what ailed thee to die?
And ye, my Gabions, help me him to mone;
And in your courses sorrow for his sake,
Whose matchless Muse immortal did you make.
Who now shall pen your praise and make you knowne?
By whom now shall your virtues be forth showne?
Who shall declare your worth?—is any able?—
Who dare to meddle with Apelles table?
Ah me! there's none!—And is there none indeed?
Then must ye mourn of force,—there's no remeed:
And I for my part, with you in my turne
Shall keep a dolefull comfort whilst ye mourne:
And thus with echoing voice, shall howl and cry—
Gall, sweetest Gall, what ailed thee to die?
Now first my Bowes begin this dolefull song:
No more with clangors let your shafts be flung
In fields abroad, but in my cabine stay,
And help me for to mourn till dying day;
With dust and cobwebs cover all your heads,
And take you to your matins and your beads:
A requiem sing unto that sweetest soul,
Which shines now sainted above other pole.
And ye my clubs, you must no more prepare
To make your balls flee whistling in the air,
But hing your heads, and bow your crooked crags,
And dress you all in sackcloath and in rags,
No more to see the sun, nor fertile fields,
But closely keep your mourning in your bields;
And for your part the trible to you take,
And when you cry, make all your crags to crake,
And shiver when you sing, alas! for Gall!
Ah, if our mourning might thee now recall!
And ye, my loadstones, of Lednochian lakes,
Collected from the loughs, where watrie snakes
Do much abound, take unto you a part,
And mourn for Gall, who lov'd you with his heart;
In this sad dump and melancholick mood,
The burdown ye must bear, not on the flood,
Or frozen watrie plaines, but let your tuning,
Come help me for to weep by mournfull cruning;
And ye the rest my Gabions less and more,
Of noble kind, come help me for to roare!
And of my woefull weeping take a part—
Help to declare the dolour of mine heart:
How can I choose but mourn, when I think on
Our games Olympick-like in times agone?
Chiefly wherein our cunning we did try,
And matchless skill in noble archerie,
In these our days when archers did abound
In Perth, then famous for such pastimes found:
Among the first for archers we were known,
And for that art our skill was loudly blown:
What time Perth's credit did stand with the best
And bravest archers this land hath possesst;
We spar'd no gaines nor paines for to report
To Perth the worship, by such noble sport:
Witness the Links of Leith, where Cowper, Grahame,
And Stewart won the prize, and brought it home;
And in these games did offer ten to three,
There to contend: Quorum pars magna fui.
No more with clangors let your shafts be flung
In fields abroad, but in my cabine stay,
And help me for to mourn till dying day;
500
And take you to your matins and your beads:
A requiem sing unto that sweetest soul,
Which shines now sainted above other pole.
And ye my clubs, you must no more prepare
To make your balls flee whistling in the air,
But hing your heads, and bow your crooked crags,
And dress you all in sackcloath and in rags,
No more to see the sun, nor fertile fields,
But closely keep your mourning in your bields;
And for your part the trible to you take,
And when you cry, make all your crags to crake,
And shiver when you sing, alas! for Gall!
Ah, if our mourning might thee now recall!
And ye, my loadstones, of Lednochian lakes,
Collected from the loughs, where watrie snakes
Do much abound, take unto you a part,
And mourn for Gall, who lov'd you with his heart;
In this sad dump and melancholick mood,
The burdown ye must bear, not on the flood,
Or frozen watrie plaines, but let your tuning,
Come help me for to weep by mournfull cruning;
And ye the rest my Gabions less and more,
Of noble kind, come help me for to roare!
And of my woefull weeping take a part—
Help to declare the dolour of mine heart:
How can I choose but mourn, when I think on
Our games Olympick-like in times agone?
Chiefly wherein our cunning we did try,
And matchless skill in noble archerie,
In these our days when archers did abound
In Perth, then famous for such pastimes found:
Among the first for archers we were known,
And for that art our skill was loudly blown:
What time Perth's credit did stand with the best
And bravest archers this land hath possesst;
We spar'd no gaines nor paines for to report
To Perth the worship, by such noble sport:
Witness the Links of Leith, where Cowper, Grahame,
And Stewart won the prize, and brought it home;
And in these games did offer ten to three,
There to contend: Quorum pars magna fui.
I mourn, good Gall, when I think on that stead,
Where yee did hail your shaft unto the head,
And with a strong and steadfast eye and hand,
So valiantly your bow yee did command:
A sliddrie shaft forth of its forks did fling,
Clank gave the bow, the whistling air did ring;
The bowlt did cleave the clouds, and threat the skyes,
And thence down falling to the mark it flies:
Incontinent the aimer gave a token,
The mark was kill'd, the shaft in flinders broken:
Then softly smiling, good Gall, thus quod I,
Now find I time my archerie to try;
And here by solemn vow I undertake,
In token of my love, even for thy sake,
Either to hit the mark, else shall I never
More with these arms of mine use bow and quiver;
Therewith my ligaments I did extend,
And then a noble shaft I did commend
Unto my bow, then firmly fix't mine eye,
And closely levell'd at Orion's knee—
A star of greatest magnitude, who ken'd it
So well as I, prays you be not offended;
(For I did use no magick incantation
For to conduct my shaft, I will find cation:)
Then cleverly my flen soone can I feather;
Upon my left arm was a brace of leather;
And with three fingers haling up the string,
The bow in semicircle did I bring;
With soft and tender lowse out went the shaft,
Amids the clouds the arrow flew aloft:
And as directed by a skilfull hand,
With speedie hand, the steadfast mark it fand;
The aimer gave his signe, furthwith was known,
The shot was mine, the boult in flinders flown;
Above his shaft, in such difficile stead,
Closely I hit the mark upon the head;
Then on the plain we caprel'd wonder fast,
Whereat the people gazing were agast:
With kind embracments did we thurst and thrimble,
(For in these days I was exceeding nimble,)
We leap't, we danc't, we loudly laugh't, we cry'd,
For in the earth such skill was never try'd
In archcrie, as we prov'd in these days,
Whereby we did obtain immortal praise:
Then, gossip Gall, quod I, I dare approve,
Thou hast a trusty token of my love.
Where yee did hail your shaft unto the head,
And with a strong and steadfast eye and hand,
So valiantly your bow yee did command:
A sliddrie shaft forth of its forks did fling,
Clank gave the bow, the whistling air did ring;
501
And thence down falling to the mark it flies:
Incontinent the aimer gave a token,
The mark was kill'd, the shaft in flinders broken:
Then softly smiling, good Gall, thus quod I,
Now find I time my archerie to try;
And here by solemn vow I undertake,
In token of my love, even for thy sake,
Either to hit the mark, else shall I never
More with these arms of mine use bow and quiver;
Therewith my ligaments I did extend,
And then a noble shaft I did commend
Unto my bow, then firmly fix't mine eye,
And closely levell'd at Orion's knee—
A star of greatest magnitude, who ken'd it
So well as I, prays you be not offended;
(For I did use no magick incantation
For to conduct my shaft, I will find cation:)
Then cleverly my flen soone can I feather;
Upon my left arm was a brace of leather;
And with three fingers haling up the string,
The bow in semicircle did I bring;
With soft and tender lowse out went the shaft,
Amids the clouds the arrow flew aloft:
And as directed by a skilfull hand,
With speedie hand, the steadfast mark it fand;
The aimer gave his signe, furthwith was known,
The shot was mine, the boult in flinders flown;
Above his shaft, in such difficile stead,
Closely I hit the mark upon the head;
Then on the plain we caprel'd wonder fast,
Whereat the people gazing were agast:
With kind embracments did we thurst and thrimble,
(For in these days I was exceeding nimble,)
We leap't, we danc't, we loudly laugh't, we cry'd,
For in the earth such skill was never try'd
In archcrie, as we prov'd in these days,
Whereby we did obtain immortal praise:
Then, gossip Gall, quod I, I dare approve,
Thou hast a trusty token of my love.
What shall be said of other martial games?
None was inlaking from whence bravest stemmes;
Victorious trophees, palmes, and noble pynes,
Olives, and lawrels, such as auncient times
Decor'd the Grecian victors in their playes,
And worthie Romanes in their brave assayes,
For tryal of their strength each match'd with other,
Whose beauty was, sweat mix'd with dust together:
Such exercises did content us more
Than if we had possess'd King Cræsus' store.
But, O ye fields! my native Perth neerby,
Prays you to speak, and truly testifie,
What matchless skill we prov'd in all these places,
Within the compass of three thousand paces
On either side, while as we went a shooting,
And strongly strove who should bring home the booting;
Alongst the flowrie banks of Tay to Almond;
Ay when I hit the mark, I cast a gamound;
And there we view the place, where sometime stood,
The ancient Bertha now o'erflowed with flood
Of mighty waters, and that princely hold,
Where dwelt King William, by the stream down rol'd,
Was utterly defac'd, and overthrown,
That now the place thereof can scarce be known:
Then through these haughs of fair and fertile ground,
Which, with fruit trees, with corns and flocks abound,
Meandring rivers, sweet flowres, heavenly honey,
More for our pastime than to conquesh money:
We went a shooting both through plain and park,
And never stay'd till we came to Lows wark;
Built by our mighty Kings for to preserve us,
That thencefurth waters should not drown, but serve us;
Yet condescending it admits one rill,
Which all these plains with christal brooks doth fill;
And by a conduit, large three miles in length,
Serves to make Perth impregnable for strength,
At all occasions when her clowses fall,
Making the water mount up to her wall,
When we had view'd this mighty work at random,
We thought it best these fields for to abandon:
And turning home, we spar'd nor dye nor fowsie,
Untill we came unto the Boot of Bowsie,
Along this aqueduct, and there our station,
We made and viewed Balhousie's situation.
O'erlooking all that spacious pleasant valley,
With flowers damasked, levell as an alley,
Betwixt and Perth, thither did we repair,
(For why the season was exceeding fair:)
Then all alongst this valley did we hye,
And there the place we clearly did espye,
The precinct, situation, and the stead,
Where ended was that cruel bloody fead,
Between these cursed clans Chattan and Kay,
Before King Robert John upon the day
Appointed, then and there, who did convene,
Thirty 'gainst thirty match'd upon that greene,
Of martial fellows, all in raging mood,
Like furious Ajax, or Orestes wood,
Alonely arm'd with long two-handed swords,
Their sparkling eyes cast fire instead of words;
Their horride beards, thrown browes, brustled mustages
Of deadly blows t'inshew, were true presages.
None was inlaking from whence bravest stemmes;
Victorious trophees, palmes, and noble pynes,
Olives, and lawrels, such as auncient times
Decor'd the Grecian victors in their playes,
And worthie Romanes in their brave assayes,
For tryal of their strength each match'd with other,
Whose beauty was, sweat mix'd with dust together:
502
Than if we had possess'd King Cræsus' store.
But, O ye fields! my native Perth neerby,
Prays you to speak, and truly testifie,
What matchless skill we prov'd in all these places,
Within the compass of three thousand paces
On either side, while as we went a shooting,
And strongly strove who should bring home the booting;
Alongst the flowrie banks of Tay to Almond;
Ay when I hit the mark, I cast a gamound;
And there we view the place, where sometime stood,
The ancient Bertha now o'erflowed with flood
Of mighty waters, and that princely hold,
Where dwelt King William, by the stream down rol'd,
Was utterly defac'd, and overthrown,
That now the place thereof can scarce be known:
Then through these haughs of fair and fertile ground,
Which, with fruit trees, with corns and flocks abound,
Meandring rivers, sweet flowres, heavenly honey,
More for our pastime than to conquesh money:
We went a shooting both through plain and park,
And never stay'd till we came to Lows wark;
Built by our mighty Kings for to preserve us,
That thencefurth waters should not drown, but serve us;
Yet condescending it admits one rill,
Which all these plains with christal brooks doth fill;
And by a conduit, large three miles in length,
Serves to make Perth impregnable for strength,
At all occasions when her clowses fall,
Making the water mount up to her wall,
When we had view'd this mighty work at random,
We thought it best these fields for to abandon:
And turning home, we spar'd nor dye nor fowsie,
Untill we came unto the Boot of Bowsie,
Along this aqueduct, and there our station,
We made and viewed Balhousie's situation.
O'erlooking all that spacious pleasant valley,
With flowers damasked, levell as an alley,
Betwixt and Perth, thither did we repair,
(For why the season was exceeding fair:)
Then all alongst this valley did we hye,
And there the place we clearly did espye,
The precinct, situation, and the stead,
Where ended was that cruel bloody fead,
Between these cursed clans Chattan and Kay,
Before King Robert John upon the day
Appointed, then and there, who did convene,
Thirty 'gainst thirty match'd upon that greene,
503
Like furious Ajax, or Orestes wood,
Alonely arm'd with long two-handed swords,
Their sparkling eyes cast fire instead of words;
Their horride beards, thrown browes, brustled mustages
Of deadly blows t'inshew, were true presages.
Thus standing, fortune's event for to try,
And thousands them beholding, one did cry,
With loud and mighty voice, stay, hold your hands!
A little space, we pray, the case thus stands;
One of our number is not here to day—
This sudden speech did make some little stay
Of this most bloody bargain, th'one party fight
Would not, unless the number were made right
Unto the adverse faction, nor was any
That would take it in hand, among so many
Beholders of all ranks, into that place
On th'other side none would sustaine disgrace,
To be debarred from his other fellowes,
He rather hung seven years upon the gallowes.
And thousands them beholding, one did cry,
With loud and mighty voice, stay, hold your hands!
A little space, we pray, the case thus stands;
One of our number is not here to day—
This sudden speech did make some little stay
Of this most bloody bargain, th'one party fight
Would not, unless the number were made right
Unto the adverse faction, nor was any
That would take it in hand, among so many
Beholders of all ranks, into that place
On th'other side none would sustaine disgrace,
To be debarred from his other fellowes,
He rather hung seven years upon the gallowes.
Thus, as the question stood, was found at length,
One Henry Wind, for tryal of his strength
The charge would take, a sadler of his craft,
I wot not well, whether the man was daft,
But for an half French crown he took in hand,
Stoutly to fight so long as he might stand,
And if to be victorious should betide him,
They should some yearly pension provide him,
The bargaine holds; and then with all their maine,
Their brakens buckled to the fight again;
Incontinent the trumpets loudlie sounded,
And mightilie the great bagpipes were winded:
Then fell they to't as fierce as any thunder,
From shoulders arms, and heads from necks they sunder,
All raging there in blood, they hew'd and hash'd,
Their skincoats with the new cut were outslash'd;
And scorning death so bravely did outfight it,
That the beholders greatly were affrighted;
But chiefly this by all men was observed,
None fought so fiercely, nor so well deserved
As this their hired souldier, Henrie Winde,
For by his valour, victory inclinde
Unto that side; and ever since those dayes
This proverb current goes, when any sayes,
How come you here? this answer doth he finde,
I'm for mine owne hand, as fought Henrie Winde,
So finely fought he, ten with him escap't,
And of the other but one, in flood who leap't
And sav'd himself by swimming over Tay,
But to speak more of this we might not stay,
Thence did we take us to the other hand,
From this divided by a christal strand
From whence the King beheld with open sight,
The long time doubtfull event of this fight:
From off his pleasant gardens flowery wall,
Which we the gilted arbor yet do call.
And here some monuments we did descry,
And ruin'd heaps of great antiquity;
There stood a temple, and religious place,
And here a palace, but ah, woeful case!
Where murthered was one of the bravest Kings,
For wisdome, learning, valour, and such things
As should a Prince adorn; who trades and arts,
By men of matchless skill brought to thir parts,
From Italy, Low Germany, and France,
Religion, learning, policy to advance,
King James the first of everlasting name,
Kill'd by that mischant traitor Robert Grahame.
Intending of his crown for to have rob'd him,
With twenty eight wounds in the breast he stob'd him.
Unnatural paricide, most bloody traitor!
Accursed be thou above any creature!
And curst be all, for so it is appointed,
That dare presume to touch the Lord's anointed!
This Phœnix Prince our nation much decor'd,
Good letters and civility restored,
By long and bloudie wars which were defaced,
His royal care made them be re-embraced,
And he this city mightilie intended
To have enhanc'd, if fates had condescended,
For which, if power answer'd, good-will we would
With Gorgias Leontinus, raise of gold
A statue to him, of most curious frame,
In honour of his dear and worthy name.
He likewise built most sumptuously fair,
That much renown'd religious place and rare,
The Charterhouse of Perth a mighty frame,
Vallis Virtutis by a mystic name.
Looking along that painted spacious field,
Which doth with pleasure profit sweetly yield,
The fair South Inch of Perth and banks of Tay,
This Abbay's steeples, and its turrets stay;
While as they stood (but ah! where sins abound
The loftiest pride lies level'd with the ground!)
Were cunningly contriv'd with curious art,
And quintessence of skill in everie part?
My Grandsire many times to me hath told it;
He knew their names, this mighty frame who moldit:
Italian some, and some were Frenchmen borne,
Whose matchless skill this great work did adorne,
And living were in Perth, some of their race,
When that, alas! demolish'd was this place;
For greatness, beauty, stateliness so fair
In Britane's isle, was said, none might compare:
Even as Apelles for to prove his skill,
In limning Venus with a perfect quill,
Did not on some one beauty take inspection,
But of all beauties borrowed the perfection:
Even so this Prince, to policie inclinde,
Did not on some one fabrick set his minde,
To make the prototype of his designe,
But from all works, did all perfections bring,
And rarest patterns brought from every part,
Where any brave Vitruvius kyth'd his art,
So that this great and princely enterprise,
Perfections of all models did comprise;
And in this place, where he doth buried lye,
Was kept the relict wherein he did dye—
His doublet, as a monument reserv'd,
And when this place was raz'd, it was preserv'd,
Which afterwards I did see for my part,
With hols through which he stab'd was to the heart.
One Henry Wind, for tryal of his strength
The charge would take, a sadler of his craft,
I wot not well, whether the man was daft,
But for an half French crown he took in hand,
Stoutly to fight so long as he might stand,
And if to be victorious should betide him,
They should some yearly pension provide him,
The bargaine holds; and then with all their maine,
Their brakens buckled to the fight again;
Incontinent the trumpets loudlie sounded,
And mightilie the great bagpipes were winded:
Then fell they to't as fierce as any thunder,
From shoulders arms, and heads from necks they sunder,
All raging there in blood, they hew'd and hash'd,
Their skincoats with the new cut were outslash'd;
And scorning death so bravely did outfight it,
That the beholders greatly were affrighted;
But chiefly this by all men was observed,
None fought so fiercely, nor so well deserved
As this their hired souldier, Henrie Winde,
For by his valour, victory inclinde
Unto that side; and ever since those dayes
This proverb current goes, when any sayes,
How come you here? this answer doth he finde,
I'm for mine owne hand, as fought Henrie Winde,
So finely fought he, ten with him escap't,
And of the other but one, in flood who leap't
504
But to speak more of this we might not stay,
Thence did we take us to the other hand,
From this divided by a christal strand
From whence the King beheld with open sight,
The long time doubtfull event of this fight:
From off his pleasant gardens flowery wall,
Which we the gilted arbor yet do call.
And here some monuments we did descry,
And ruin'd heaps of great antiquity;
There stood a temple, and religious place,
And here a palace, but ah, woeful case!
Where murthered was one of the bravest Kings,
For wisdome, learning, valour, and such things
As should a Prince adorn; who trades and arts,
By men of matchless skill brought to thir parts,
From Italy, Low Germany, and France,
Religion, learning, policy to advance,
King James the first of everlasting name,
Kill'd by that mischant traitor Robert Grahame.
Intending of his crown for to have rob'd him,
With twenty eight wounds in the breast he stob'd him.
Unnatural paricide, most bloody traitor!
Accursed be thou above any creature!
And curst be all, for so it is appointed,
That dare presume to touch the Lord's anointed!
This Phœnix Prince our nation much decor'd,
Good letters and civility restored,
By long and bloudie wars which were defaced,
His royal care made them be re-embraced,
And he this city mightilie intended
To have enhanc'd, if fates had condescended,
For which, if power answer'd, good-will we would
With Gorgias Leontinus, raise of gold
A statue to him, of most curious frame,
In honour of his dear and worthy name.
He likewise built most sumptuously fair,
That much renown'd religious place and rare,
The Charterhouse of Perth a mighty frame,
Vallis Virtutis by a mystic name.
Looking along that painted spacious field,
Which doth with pleasure profit sweetly yield,
The fair South Inch of Perth and banks of Tay,
This Abbay's steeples, and its turrets stay;
While as they stood (but ah! where sins abound
The loftiest pride lies level'd with the ground!)
Were cunningly contriv'd with curious art,
And quintessence of skill in everie part?
505
He knew their names, this mighty frame who moldit:
Italian some, and some were Frenchmen borne,
Whose matchless skill this great work did adorne,
And living were in Perth, some of their race,
When that, alas! demolish'd was this place;
For greatness, beauty, stateliness so fair
In Britane's isle, was said, none might compare:
Even as Apelles for to prove his skill,
In limning Venus with a perfect quill,
Did not on some one beauty take inspection,
But of all beauties borrowed the perfection:
Even so this Prince, to policie inclinde,
Did not on some one fabrick set his minde,
To make the prototype of his designe,
But from all works, did all perfections bring,
And rarest patterns brought from every part,
Where any brave Vitruvius kyth'd his art,
So that this great and princely enterprise,
Perfections of all models did comprise;
And in this place, where he doth buried lye,
Was kept the relict wherein he did dye—
His doublet, as a monument reserv'd,
And when this place was raz'd, it was preserv'd,
Which afterwards I did see for my part,
With hols through which he stab'd was to the heart.
Then, good Gall, thus quod I, what shew of reason,
Mov'd this unnatural traitor work such treason?
Reason! good Mr Gall did thus reply,
Reason! so much in shew I do deny;—
Reason! no reason did he have at all;
But wormwood, bitter malice, Stygian gall
Within this traitor's heart did closely lurk,
Which moved him this tragedie to work;
And I would truly tell this woefull storie,
But that my tongue doth faile, mine heart's so sorrie;
Yet whiles that we unto the town do go,
Monsier, the true occasion will I show.
Mov'd this unnatural traitor work such treason?
Reason! good Mr Gall did thus reply,
Reason! so much in shew I do deny;—
Reason! no reason did he have at all;
But wormwood, bitter malice, Stygian gall
Within this traitor's heart did closely lurk,
Which moved him this tragedie to work;
And I would truly tell this woefull storie,
But that my tongue doth faile, mine heart's so sorrie;
Yet whiles that we unto the town do go,
Monsier, the true occasion will I show.
This worthie Prince, according to the taillie
Made by King Robert, when heirs male should faillie,
Of his son David then Earle of Stratherne,
So soon, I say, the King as he did learne
That heirs male of this David were surceast,
Into these lands he did himself invest:
For David leaving after him no son,
His lands by right come back unto the crown;
Yet after him one daughter did survive,
In marriage which to Patrick Grahame they give,
To whom she bore a son, one Melisse Grahame,
Whose parents dying young, Robert did claime,
As uncle, and as tutor, of these lands
To have the charge devolved in his hands,
Which when the King most justly did deny
To give, and gravelie shew the reason why,
This bloody traitor from his gorge did spew
Words treacherous, nor to be spoke, nor true;
For which he justlie Traitor was declar'd;
But he the King's authoritie nought car'd,
But more and more pursuing his intent,
To Walter, Earl of Athole, streight he went,
Whom well he knew to have the like designe
Above all things for to cut off the King,
And all the race sprung of Eliza Mure;
With witches did consult, and sp'rits conjure,
This to effect, and all th'infernal furies,
With draughts and spells, and such unlawful curies;
At length, he finding that incarnate fiend,
Believ'd his response should have steadfast end,
Which was, that he should once before he dye
Be crowned King, with great solemnitie:
Which came to pass indeed, but not with gold,
For his familiar sp'rit kept that untold:
Thus these two traitors cruelly did hatch
The treason which this good King did dispatch.
Made by King Robert, when heirs male should faillie,
Of his son David then Earle of Stratherne,
So soon, I say, the King as he did learne
That heirs male of this David were surceast,
Into these lands he did himself invest:
For David leaving after him no son,
His lands by right come back unto the crown;
Yet after him one daughter did survive,
In marriage which to Patrick Grahame they give,
506
Whose parents dying young, Robert did claime,
As uncle, and as tutor, of these lands
To have the charge devolved in his hands,
Which when the King most justly did deny
To give, and gravelie shew the reason why,
This bloody traitor from his gorge did spew
Words treacherous, nor to be spoke, nor true;
For which he justlie Traitor was declar'd;
But he the King's authoritie nought car'd,
But more and more pursuing his intent,
To Walter, Earl of Athole, streight he went,
Whom well he knew to have the like designe
Above all things for to cut off the King,
And all the race sprung of Eliza Mure;
With witches did consult, and sp'rits conjure,
This to effect, and all th'infernal furies,
With draughts and spells, and such unlawful curies;
At length, he finding that incarnate fiend,
Believ'd his response should have steadfast end,
Which was, that he should once before he dye
Be crowned King, with great solemnitie:
Which came to pass indeed, but not with gold,
For his familiar sp'rit kept that untold:
Thus these two traitors cruelly did hatch
The treason which this good King did dispatch.
Both of these traitors at the crown did aime:
Th'one thought his nephew might it some time claime,
And he without all question would succeed;
For well he knew to cut the fatal threed;
Likewise that other hell-taught traitor, Walter,
Believ'd by no meanes his response could alter;
Thus both of them, fed with ambitious hopes,
Kept secret by themselves their partial scops,
But mutually this one thing they intend—
The King must die, and here their thoughts they spend.
Th'one thought his nephew might it some time claime,
And he without all question would succeed;
For well he knew to cut the fatal threed;
Likewise that other hell-taught traitor, Walter,
Believ'd by no meanes his response could alter;
Thus both of them, fed with ambitious hopes,
Kept secret by themselves their partial scops,
But mutually this one thing they intend—
The King must die, and here their thoughts they spend.
But this Earle Walter, subtile more than th'other,
His quaint designe 'gan cunningly to smother;
Observing well the Grahame's proud haughty braine,
Greatly aggreag'd the wrongs he did sustaine,
Affirming that there was none had a heart,
But would avenged be; and for his part
He would assist, and when the turne were ended,
Against all deadly; Grahame should be defended;
Thus by ambition witch't, and rage demented,
This traitor execut what was intented,
Who from the famous Trojan had his name,
And from the woods when he did hear the fame
Of this infamous act, at Edinburgh then
Residing, to make peace between these men
Who of the Greek and Trojans are descended!
O how he was inrag'd! O how offended!
To see so brave a Prince so traiterouslie
Cut off, he roar'd and rail'd outragiouslie
'Gainst all the nation, but when he justice done,
Had seen upon the traitours, then his tune
He quickly chang'd, now have I seen, said he,
A cruel crime revenged cruellie.
This tragick task, Monsier, in hand to take,
Mine eyes do melt in tears, mine heart-strings crake,
What! shall I speak of Priam King of Troy,
By Pyrrhus kill'd? that cannot much annoy:
Or shall I of brave Julius Cæsar tell,
Whom these two traitors did in senate kill?
These may affect us with some small compassion,
But for to speak of this, is a tentation.
Cæsar for valour, learning, and meek mind;
And ah! too much like Cæsar in his end.
Excusa Moi, Monsier, mine heart's so sorie,
That I can tell you no more of this storie.
When I think with what gravitie and grace
This tragedie was told, tears weet my face;
And I do wish good Gall thou were on live,
That with Mæonian style thou mightst deserve
Such memorable acts, or else thy spirit
In some new body plac'd, it to inherit:
Ah me! this cannot be, which makes me cry,—
Gall, sweetest Gall, what ailed thee to die?
His quaint designe 'gan cunningly to smother;
Observing well the Grahame's proud haughty braine,
Greatly aggreag'd the wrongs he did sustaine,
Affirming that there was none had a heart,
But would avenged be; and for his part
He would assist, and when the turne were ended,
Against all deadly; Grahame should be defended;
Thus by ambition witch't, and rage demented,
This traitor execut what was intented,
Who from the famous Trojan had his name,
And from the woods when he did hear the fame
507
Residing, to make peace between these men
Who of the Greek and Trojans are descended!
O how he was inrag'd! O how offended!
To see so brave a Prince so traiterouslie
Cut off, he roar'd and rail'd outragiouslie
'Gainst all the nation, but when he justice done,
Had seen upon the traitours, then his tune
He quickly chang'd, now have I seen, said he,
A cruel crime revenged cruellie.
This tragick task, Monsier, in hand to take,
Mine eyes do melt in tears, mine heart-strings crake,
What! shall I speak of Priam King of Troy,
By Pyrrhus kill'd? that cannot much annoy:
Or shall I of brave Julius Cæsar tell,
Whom these two traitors did in senate kill?
These may affect us with some small compassion,
But for to speak of this, is a tentation.
Cæsar for valour, learning, and meek mind;
And ah! too much like Cæsar in his end.
Excusa Moi, Monsier, mine heart's so sorie,
That I can tell you no more of this storie.
When I think with what gravitie and grace
This tragedie was told, tears weet my face;
And I do wish good Gall thou were on live,
That with Mæonian style thou mightst deserve
Such memorable acts, or else thy spirit
In some new body plac'd, it to inherit:
Ah me! this cannot be, which makes me cry,—
Gall, sweetest Gall, what ailed thee to die?
508
SECOND MUSE.
But this sad melancholick disquisition,
Did not befit our jovial disposition,
In these our days; therefore when we had mourned
For this good King, we to the town returned,
And there to cheere our hearts, and make us merrie,
We kindely tasted of the noble berrie;
Melancholie and grief are great men-killers:
Therefore from Tamarisk, with some capillars
Infusde we drank, for to preserve our splens
From grief, our lungs from cough, and purge our reins;
But this receipt Gall did not keep alway,
Which made him die, alas! before his day.
Did not befit our jovial disposition,
In these our days; therefore when we had mourned
For this good King, we to the town returned,
And there to cheere our hearts, and make us merrie,
We kindely tasted of the noble berrie;
Melancholie and grief are great men-killers:
Therefore from Tamarisk, with some capillars
Infusde we drank, for to preserve our splens
From grief, our lungs from cough, and purge our reins;
But this receipt Gall did not keep alway,
Which made him die, alas! before his day.
Then home we went, into our beds to rest us—
To-morrow again we to the fields addrest us;
And in my bed as I did dreaming ly,
Me thought I heard with mighty voice, one cry,
Arise, Monsier! the day is wondrous fair—
Monsier, arise; then answered I, who's there?
Arise, Monsier, the third time did it call;
Who's there? quoth I, it is I Mr Gall,
Then I awoke, and found it so indeed,
Good-morrow, Mr Gall, Monsier, God speed.
Good Mr Gall, dreams did me much molest
This night, and almost rave me of my rest,
Monsier, quoth Gall, what motion might that be?
Said I, I dream'd I was in archerie,
Out match'd so far, that I was striken dumbe,
For very grief to be so overcome,
Monsier, said he, that's been a mightie passion,
That hath you striken dumb in such a fashion.
A passion so great that I did sweat,
My sinews tremble, and my heart did beat.
At length, respiring, these few words did speak:—
O noble heart of force, now must thou break!
For to these days was never in this land
That did o'ercome this matchless maiden hand;
And dreaming, as I judg'd with Mr Gall,
Incontinent a voice on me did call,
Arise, Monsier, arise: then I awoke,
And found it was Gall's voice unto me spoke,
Which made me doubt if so could come to passe:
Then answer'd Gall, altho' your bow were brasse,
That might be done; and I'm the man will do it,
What say you Gall? quod I, then let us to it.
Furthwith we dress'd us in our archer grath,
And to the fields we came, like men in wrath:
When we our nerves and tendons had extended,
Incontinent our bowes were bravely bended:
The skie was wondrous cleer, Apollo fair,
Greatly delighted to behold us there:
And did disperse the clouds, that he might see
What matchless skill we prov'd in archerie.
The cristal river Phœbus beams reflected,
As glad of us, them in our face directed:
The flowerie plains, and mountains all the while
That we were shooting merrilie did smile.
Mean while, for honours praise, as we were swelting
The sweat from off our brows and temples melting,
Phœbus, as seeming to envie our skill,
His quiver with some fierie shafts did fill,
And from his silver bow, at us he darted
These shafts, to make us faint and feeble-hearted:
Whose mighty force we could not well oppose,
Under a shade we therefore did repose
A pretty while hard by a silver streame,
Which did appeare some melodie to frame,
Running alongst the snow-white pibble stones
Mourning, did murmure joys, commix't with moanes.
A cup I had with woodbind of the wall,
And drinking said, this to you Mr Gall,
Quoth he, Monsier, since that we have no better,
With all mine heart, I will you pledge in water.
This brook alongst the flowerie plain meanders,
And in a thousand compasses it wanders;
And as it softly slides so many wayes,
It sweetly sings as many roundelayes,
And harmonie to keep, the honie bees
Their trumpets sound amongst the flowers and trees.
Their shadowes from their shaggie tops down sending
Did bow, in token of their homage rendring:
But in short while Phœbus his face withdrew,
Then freshly fell we to't again of new;
Any Kyth most skilful and most pleasant game,
While to the lands of Loncartie we came;
To-morrow again we to the fields addrest us;
And in my bed as I did dreaming ly,
Me thought I heard with mighty voice, one cry,
Arise, Monsier! the day is wondrous fair—
Monsier, arise; then answered I, who's there?
Arise, Monsier, the third time did it call;
Who's there? quoth I, it is I Mr Gall,
Then I awoke, and found it so indeed,
Good-morrow, Mr Gall, Monsier, God speed.
Good Mr Gall, dreams did me much molest
This night, and almost rave me of my rest,
Monsier, quoth Gall, what motion might that be?
Said I, I dream'd I was in archerie,
Out match'd so far, that I was striken dumbe,
For very grief to be so overcome,
Monsier, said he, that's been a mightie passion,
That hath you striken dumb in such a fashion.
A passion so great that I did sweat,
My sinews tremble, and my heart did beat.
At length, respiring, these few words did speak:—
O noble heart of force, now must thou break!
For to these days was never in this land
That did o'ercome this matchless maiden hand;
And dreaming, as I judg'd with Mr Gall,
Incontinent a voice on me did call,
Arise, Monsier, arise: then I awoke,
And found it was Gall's voice unto me spoke,
Which made me doubt if so could come to passe:
Then answer'd Gall, altho' your bow were brasse,
509
What say you Gall? quod I, then let us to it.
Furthwith we dress'd us in our archer grath,
And to the fields we came, like men in wrath:
When we our nerves and tendons had extended,
Incontinent our bowes were bravely bended:
The skie was wondrous cleer, Apollo fair,
Greatly delighted to behold us there:
And did disperse the clouds, that he might see
What matchless skill we prov'd in archerie.
The cristal river Phœbus beams reflected,
As glad of us, them in our face directed:
The flowerie plains, and mountains all the while
That we were shooting merrilie did smile.
Mean while, for honours praise, as we were swelting
The sweat from off our brows and temples melting,
Phœbus, as seeming to envie our skill,
His quiver with some fierie shafts did fill,
And from his silver bow, at us he darted
These shafts, to make us faint and feeble-hearted:
Whose mighty force we could not well oppose,
Under a shade we therefore did repose
A pretty while hard by a silver streame,
Which did appeare some melodie to frame,
Running alongst the snow-white pibble stones
Mourning, did murmure joys, commix't with moanes.
A cup I had with woodbind of the wall,
And drinking said, this to you Mr Gall,
Quoth he, Monsier, since that we have no better,
With all mine heart, I will you pledge in water.
This brook alongst the flowerie plain meanders,
And in a thousand compasses it wanders;
And as it softly slides so many wayes,
It sweetly sings as many roundelayes,
And harmonie to keep, the honie bees
Their trumpets sound amongst the flowers and trees.
Their shadowes from their shaggie tops down sending
Did bow, in token of their homage rendring:
But in short while Phœbus his face withdrew,
Then freshly fell we to't again of new;
Any Kyth most skilful and most pleasant game,
While to the lands of Loncartie we came;
Then thus, quod I, good Gall, I pray thee show,
For cleerly all antiquities yee know:
What mean these skonses, and these hollow trenches,
Throughout these fallow fields and yonder inches?
And these great heaps of stones like piramids,
Doubtless all these ye knew, that so much reads;
These trenches be, Gall answering, did reply,
Where these two armies, Scots and Danes, did ly
Incamped, and these heaps the trophies be,
Rear'd in memorial of that victory,
Admir'd unlook'd for, conquest in that day,
By th'only virtue of a hyndsman, Hay,
And his two sons, from whence immortal praise
He gain'd, and glory of his name did raise
To all succeeding ages: as is said
Of Briareus, an hundred hands who had,
Wherewith he fought, or rather as we see
A valiant Sampson, whose activitie,
With his ass-bone kills thousands, or a shangar
With his oxe-goad kills hundreths, in his anger:
Even so this war-like wight with oxens yoak
Beats squadrons down by his undaunted stroke,
And did regain the victorie neere lost,
Unto the Scots, by his new gathered host,
Of fearfull fleers, in a woful plight,
By his encouragements infusing might
Into their nerves, new spirits in their arters,
To make them fight in blood, unto the garters,
Against their hatefull foes, who for to be
Did fight, more than for price or victorie.
Such cruelties their bloudie hearts possest,
To have old quarrels on us Scots redrest,
For utterly quell'd Pights, and for their own
Armies by us so often overthrown.
This worthy chieftain's happy enterprize,
Which sav'd this countrie from the tyrannies
Of cruel Danes, and his two Mar's-like sons,
Do for all ages wear the quernal crowns,
Like Thrasibulus; ever bluming bayes,
Do add much splendour to the worthie Hayes.
And always since, they for their weapons wield
Three rubrick targets in a silver shield.
Which shield the soaring falcon doth sustaine,
To signifie these three men did obteine
The publick safetie, and the falcon's flight
By mounting, shews their worth by lighting right
Unto their lands; for honours high regard;
Which in all ages should have due reward.
Like all shall finde, who loyal to the state
And countries well do prove, tho' small or great:
Men shall them praise, God shall preserve their stemme
Immortal fame shall canonize their names.
For cleerly all antiquities yee know:
What mean these skonses, and these hollow trenches,
Throughout these fallow fields and yonder inches?
And these great heaps of stones like piramids,
Doubtless all these ye knew, that so much reads;
510
Where these two armies, Scots and Danes, did ly
Incamped, and these heaps the trophies be,
Rear'd in memorial of that victory,
511
By th'only virtue of a hyndsman, Hay,
And his two sons, from whence immortal praise
He gain'd, and glory of his name did raise
To all succeeding ages: as is said
Of Briareus, an hundred hands who had,
Wherewith he fought, or rather as we see
A valiant Sampson, whose activitie,
With his ass-bone kills thousands, or a shangar
With his oxe-goad kills hundreths, in his anger:
Even so this war-like wight with oxens yoak
Beats squadrons down by his undaunted stroke,
And did regain the victorie neere lost,
Unto the Scots, by his new gathered host,
Of fearfull fleers, in a woful plight,
By his encouragements infusing might
Into their nerves, new spirits in their arters,
To make them fight in blood, unto the garters,
Against their hatefull foes, who for to be
Did fight, more than for price or victorie.
Such cruelties their bloudie hearts possest,
To have old quarrels on us Scots redrest,
For utterly quell'd Pights, and for their own
Armies by us so often overthrown.
This worthy chieftain's happy enterprize,
Which sav'd this countrie from the tyrannies
Of cruel Danes, and his two Mar's-like sons,
Do for all ages wear the quernal crowns,
Like Thrasibulus; ever bluming bayes,
Do add much splendour to the worthie Hayes.
And always since, they for their weapons wield
Three rubrick targets in a silver shield.
Which shield the soaring falcon doth sustaine,
To signifie these three men did obteine
The publick safetie, and the falcon's flight
By mounting, shews their worth by lighting right
Unto their lands; for honours high regard;
Which in all ages should have due reward.
Like all shall finde, who loyal to the state
And countries well do prove, tho' small or great:
Men shall them praise, God shall preserve their stemme
Immortal fame shall canonize their names.
Thence forward went we unto Campsie Lin,
From whence the river falling makes such din
As Nilus Catadups: there so we sported,
It is impossible for to report it:
Whether we walk'd, or did we sit, or stand,
Quiver was tied to side, and bow in hand;
So that none thought us to be mortal wights,
But either Phœbus or fair Phœbe's knights;
There we admir'd to see the salmond leap,
And over-reach the waters mighty heap.
Which from a mountain falls, so high, and steep,
And tumbling down devals into the deep,
Making the boyling waters to rebound,
Like these great surges near by Greenland found,
Yet these small fish o'ercome these wat'rie mountains,
And kindly take them to their mother fonntains.
From whence the river falling makes such din
As Nilus Catadups: there so we sported,
It is impossible for to report it:
512
Quiver was tied to side, and bow in hand;
So that none thought us to be mortal wights,
But either Phœbus or fair Phœbe's knights;
There we admir'd to see the salmond leap,
And over-reach the waters mighty heap.
Which from a mountain falls, so high, and steep,
And tumbling down devals into the deep,
Making the boyling waters to rebound,
Like these great surges near by Greenland found,
Yet these small fish o'ercome these wat'rie mountains,
And kindly take them to their mother fonntains.
With what affection everie creature tenders
The native soil! hence comes, great Jove remembers
His cradle Creet, and worthie more than he,
Let th'idle Cretians at their pleasure lie,
Even these most worthy Kings of mighty race,
Come of great Fergus, long to see the face
Of their dear Caledonia, whose soyle
Doth make their kindly hearts within them boyle,
To view these fields where martial men of arms,
Great monuments have rais'd with loud alarms
Of thundring trumpets, by a hundred kings
And seven one queen; what antient poet sings,
The like descent of princes, who their crowns
And scepters have bestow'd upon their sons,
Or neerest kinsmen? neither is it so
That this continued line had never foe
To interrupt the same, witness these standers
That bear the Roman eagle, great commanders
Of most part of the globe, and cruel Danes
Victorious elsewhere, but not in our planes;
Pights and old Britans, more than these to tell,
Who in the compasse of this island dwell,
But praisde be God, Britaine is now combinde,
In faith and truth, one King, one God, one minde.
The native soil! hence comes, great Jove remembers
His cradle Creet, and worthie more than he,
Let th'idle Cretians at their pleasure lie,
Even these most worthy Kings of mighty race,
Come of great Fergus, long to see the face
Of their dear Caledonia, whose soyle
Doth make their kindly hearts within them boyle,
To view these fields where martial men of arms,
Great monuments have rais'd with loud alarms
Of thundring trumpets, by a hundred kings
And seven one queen; what antient poet sings,
The like descent of princes, who their crowns
And scepters have bestow'd upon their sons,
Or neerest kinsmen? neither is it so
That this continued line had never foe
To interrupt the same, witness these standers
That bear the Roman eagle, great commanders
Of most part of the globe, and cruel Danes
Victorious elsewhere, but not in our planes;
Pights and old Britans, more than these to tell,
Who in the compasse of this island dwell,
But praisde be God, Britaine is now combinde,
In faith and truth, one King, one God, one minde.
Let scoffers say that neither wine nor oyle,
(Whose want stay'd conquest) grows within this soyle,
Yet if gold, pearl, or silver better be,
As most men them account, it doth supplie;
Yea, things more needful for man's use it yeelds:—
Herds, flocks, and cornes abound here in our fields,
Will beasts in forests of all kinds in plentie;
Rare fowls, fruits, fishes, and what else is daintie;
Perpetual fire, to speak it in a word,
The like no where is found, it doth afford.
Thus Providence divine hath it ordained,
That human commerce may be entertained,
All soyls should have, yet none brings all things forth,
Yea, grounds most barren oft have greatest worth
Contained in their bowels, this to tell us,
Non omnia producit omnis tellus;
Hence comes that men their gold for yron change,
And so, far from their native countrys rainge,
Their softest silk for coarsest canvasse give,
Because by commerce men do better live,
Then by such things their native grounds forth measure,
By traffike they do find more gain and pleasure;
Yea, things more simple, much more useful are,
And for man's well more profitable far.
Thus yron serves for all brave arts, much more
Than gold, let Midas heap it up in store;
And canvasse serves for ventrous navigation,
Where silks are only for cloths green sick fashion;
And tho' wine glad the heart, yet stirs it strife,
But grain the staffe is which sustains our life:
So humane fellowship to entertaine,
Our fishes and our cornes bring oile and wine.
(Whose want stay'd conquest) grows within this soyle,
Yet if gold, pearl, or silver better be,
As most men them account, it doth supplie;
Yea, things more needful for man's use it yeelds:—
Herds, flocks, and cornes abound here in our fields,
Will beasts in forests of all kinds in plentie;
Rare fowls, fruits, fishes, and what else is daintie;
513
The like no where is found, it doth afford.
Thus Providence divine hath it ordained,
That human commerce may be entertained,
All soyls should have, yet none brings all things forth,
Yea, grounds most barren oft have greatest worth
Contained in their bowels, this to tell us,
Non omnia producit omnis tellus;
Hence comes that men their gold for yron change,
And so, far from their native countrys rainge,
Their softest silk for coarsest canvasse give,
Because by commerce men do better live,
Then by such things their native grounds forth measure,
By traffike they do find more gain and pleasure;
Yea, things more simple, much more useful are,
And for man's well more profitable far.
Thus yron serves for all brave arts, much more
Than gold, let Midas heap it up in store;
And canvasse serves for ventrous navigation,
Where silks are only for cloths green sick fashion;
And tho' wine glad the heart, yet stirs it strife,
But grain the staffe is which sustains our life:
So humane fellowship to entertaine,
Our fishes and our cornes bring oile and wine.
But above all our soyle throughout all parts,
Bears bravest Chieftains with couragious hearts:
These be the bar of conquest and the wall,
Which our most hateful foes could never scall.
Would you behold one Hannibal o'erturne
Fourscore of thousands, look to Bannockburne,
Or would you see Xerxes his overthrow,
And flight by boat; Edward the second know;
Or Carthaginean towers with all their mights
Destroyed? View Camelon with faithlesse Pights.
Or would ye know great Castriot whose bones
Could martial virtue give, dig'd from the stones,
Where he did buried ly? take for that part
The Bruce, and Douglas carrying his heart
Through many lands, intending it to have
Solemnly buried in the holy grave.
This heart, though dead, within their hearts begetting
Brave hearts, 'gainst dangers their bold hearts outsetting.
Would you a King for zeal unto God's house
Like Israel's David, our Saint David chuse?
Or know King James the First? like Julius Cæsar,
Or Gregorie? like Alexander; these are,
With many more, the worthies, whose renown
By martial deeds, have keeped close this crown;
Yea, more to speak of such heroick themes,
Who knoweth not the worthy great King James
Of Britain's union first? whose virtues great
Were more than equal to his royal seat;
Whose matchless wisdom, and whose learned quill,
Did nectar and ambrosia distill;
And ravish't with amasement all who heard him;
But most for active prudence all admired him.
Happie in all his life, whose worthie name,
A peaceable Augustus did proclaime.
Who conquered more by wit, than by the sword,
And made all Europe much regard his word.
And good King Charles the son of such a father,
Thrice happie by thy virgine crown; yea, rather
More happie, if more happinesse can be,
In earthlie things, by thy high pedegrie;
But most of all by Heaven, which hath appointed
The maiden crown for thee, the Lord's anointed,
The man of his right hand, and for thy seed,
Which God mot blesse, and all who shall proceed
Forth of thy loines, and stablish in thy place,
So long as sun and moone shall run their race;
Then reigne, Great Charles, our nostrils sweetest breath;
Long may thou reigne, Defender of the Faith,
Enthron'd among these worthie peerlesse pearles,
And let all say, God save our good King Charles;
And deeplie in his heart imprint that zeale,
To make the law supreme the people's weall.
What shall we speak of martial Chiftans more?
Of Gideons and of Sampsons we have store,
Whom God did raise for to defend our state
Miraculouslie, in times most desperate.
What braver Heetor, or more brave Achilles
In Greece, or Phrygia, than Sir William Wallace?
And John the Grahame, his mate and brother sworn,
Whose living fame his name doth much adorne.
And if we lift this subject more to handle,
What governour like good Earl Thomas Randale?
Or doughty Douglass with courageous heart,
Whose name wrought dreadful terror in each part?
But this heroic theme, so passing great,
Impossible it is all to relate;
Our worthie rulers even unto thir days,
They do not want their own deserved praise;
Nor shall they for my part want due renown—
Virtue t'advance and vice to trample down.
These be the wall of God's own work and framing
Against our foes, and of his own mantaining;
Wherefor we bless his holy name that made us;
And pray that never foreign scepter lead us
T'impose hard laws, and tributaries make us,
To chastise us with scorpions, and to rake us;
And likewise pray that Ajax like we would not
Undo ourselves, while all our enemies could not.
But, O dear Caledonia! what desire
Have all men who have heard thy fame t'admire
Thy monuments? how much more these who be
Thy sons, desire thy maiden soil to see?
Thy maiden castle and fair Maidenburgh.
The stately winged city, which is through
All ages much renown'd with streets so fair,
And palaces so mounted in the air:
That if the deepness of imagination
Could limn a land-schape by deep meditation;
Scarce could it match where bravest youths abound,
And gravest counsellours are alwise found;
Which justice joineth hand with true religion,
And golden virtue keeps the middle region,
As register, where these acts are enrol'd,
Better than in Corinthian brass or gold.
Bears bravest Chieftains with couragious hearts:
These be the bar of conquest and the wall,
Which our most hateful foes could never scall.
Would you behold one Hannibal o'erturne
Fourscore of thousands, look to Bannockburne,
Or would you see Xerxes his overthrow,
And flight by boat; Edward the second know;
Or Carthaginean towers with all their mights
Destroyed? View Camelon with faithlesse Pights.
Or would ye know great Castriot whose bones
Could martial virtue give, dig'd from the stones,
Where he did buried ly? take for that part
The Bruce, and Douglas carrying his heart
Through many lands, intending it to have
Solemnly buried in the holy grave.
This heart, though dead, within their hearts begetting
Brave hearts, 'gainst dangers their bold hearts outsetting.
Would you a King for zeal unto God's house
Like Israel's David, our Saint David chuse?
Or know King James the First? like Julius Cæsar,
Or Gregorie? like Alexander; these are,
514
By martial deeds, have keeped close this crown;
Yea, more to speak of such heroick themes,
Who knoweth not the worthy great King James
Of Britain's union first? whose virtues great
Were more than equal to his royal seat;
Whose matchless wisdom, and whose learned quill,
Did nectar and ambrosia distill;
And ravish't with amasement all who heard him;
But most for active prudence all admired him.
Happie in all his life, whose worthie name,
A peaceable Augustus did proclaime.
Who conquered more by wit, than by the sword,
And made all Europe much regard his word.
And good King Charles the son of such a father,
Thrice happie by thy virgine crown; yea, rather
More happie, if more happinesse can be,
In earthlie things, by thy high pedegrie;
But most of all by Heaven, which hath appointed
The maiden crown for thee, the Lord's anointed,
The man of his right hand, and for thy seed,
Which God mot blesse, and all who shall proceed
Forth of thy loines, and stablish in thy place,
So long as sun and moone shall run their race;
Then reigne, Great Charles, our nostrils sweetest breath;
Long may thou reigne, Defender of the Faith,
Enthron'd among these worthie peerlesse pearles,
And let all say, God save our good King Charles;
And deeplie in his heart imprint that zeale,
To make the law supreme the people's weall.
What shall we speak of martial Chiftans more?
Of Gideons and of Sampsons we have store,
Whom God did raise for to defend our state
Miraculouslie, in times most desperate.
What braver Heetor, or more brave Achilles
In Greece, or Phrygia, than Sir William Wallace?
And John the Grahame, his mate and brother sworn,
Whose living fame his name doth much adorne.
And if we lift this subject more to handle,
What governour like good Earl Thomas Randale?
Or doughty Douglass with courageous heart,
Whose name wrought dreadful terror in each part?
But this heroic theme, so passing great,
Impossible it is all to relate;
Our worthie rulers even unto thir days,
They do not want their own deserved praise;
Nor shall they for my part want due renown—
Virtue t'advance and vice to trample down.
515
Against our foes, and of his own mantaining;
Wherefor we bless his holy name that made us;
And pray that never foreign scepter lead us
T'impose hard laws, and tributaries make us,
To chastise us with scorpions, and to rake us;
And likewise pray that Ajax like we would not
Undo ourselves, while all our enemies could not.
But, O dear Caledonia! what desire
Have all men who have heard thy fame t'admire
Thy monuments? how much more these who be
Thy sons, desire thy maiden soil to see?
Thy maiden castle and fair Maidenburgh.
The stately winged city, which is through
All ages much renown'd with streets so fair,
And palaces so mounted in the air:
That if the deepness of imagination
Could limn a land-schape by deep meditation;
Scarce could it match where bravest youths abound,
And gravest counsellours are alwise found;
Which justice joineth hand with true religion,
And golden virtue keeps the middle region,
As register, where these acts are enrol'd,
Better than in Corinthian brass or gold.
Let poetaster Parasites who feign,
Who fawn, and crouch, and coutch and creep for gain,
And, where no hope of gain is, huffe and hur,
And bark against the moon, as doth a cur;
Let such base curs, who nought but gobbets smell,
With thee disgrac'd, and deeplie sunk in hell,
Whither themselves do go; yet shalt thou stand,
And see them ruin'd, all who thee withstand:
God shall befriend thy friends, and shall all those
Array with shame, who causeless be thy foes:
Thou art this antient kindoms bravest part,
For wit and worth, thou art its hand and heart:
And who the kingdoms compend brave would see,
Needs do no more but survey take of thee:
Hence these desires fair Caledonia's soil
To view, when bravest stratagems with toil
Have acted been, hence come these kindlie wishes,
To see these fields, even like these kindlie fishes,
Which we behold o'ercome this mightie lin,
And seek the fountains where they did begin.
Who fawn, and crouch, and coutch and creep for gain,
And, where no hope of gain is, huffe and hur,
And bark against the moon, as doth a cur;
Let such base curs, who nought but gobbets smell,
With thee disgrac'd, and deeplie sunk in hell,
Whither themselves do go; yet shalt thou stand,
And see them ruin'd, all who thee withstand:
God shall befriend thy friends, and shall all those
Array with shame, who causeless be thy foes:
Thou art this antient kindoms bravest part,
For wit and worth, thou art its hand and heart:
And who the kingdoms compend brave would see,
Needs do no more but survey take of thee:
Hence these desires fair Caledonia's soil
To view, when bravest stratagems with toil
Have acted been, hence come these kindlie wishes,
To see these fields, even like these kindlie fishes,
Which we behold o'ercome this mightie lin,
And seek the fountains where they did begin.
516
THIRD MUSE.
Thus as we did behold the salmon sporting,
We spied some countrie clowns to us resorting,
Who striken were with sudden admiration,
To see us graithed in such antique fashion,
Their staring eyes grew blind, their tongues were dumb,
A chilling cold their senses did benumb:
Said we, What moves yon ghosts to look so griesly?
They scarcely muttering, answered, and not wiselie,
Oft have we heard of such strange wights as ye,
But to this time we did them never see;
If ye be men or not, scarce can we tell—
Ye look like men, yet none such here do dwell;
Then said good Gall, Monsier, these fellows stupid,
Doubtless take me for Mars, and you for Cupid:
Therefore let us begone, we will not tarie,
Yon clowns will swear that they have seen the fairie;
When they come home at night, and by the fire,
Will tell such uncouth tales, all will admire,
Both man ane wife, the lads and all the lasses;
For be ye sure such clowns are very asses.
Thence down the river bank as we did walk,
And merrilie began to chant and talk,
A pretty boat with two oars we espy'd,
Fleeting upon the waters, then we cry'd,
HOW, boatmen, come; two fisher men near by,
Thus answer'd us again, and who doth cry?
Said we, good friends, to favour us delay not,—
The day is very hot, and walk we may not;
Therefore your kindly courtesie implores,
To let us have these little pair of oars;
For down the river we would make our way,
And land at Perth;—With all our heart, said they;
For we likewise at Perth would gladly be,
Only we want such companie as yee.
All men were glad of us, none did refuse,
Whatever thing it pleasde us, ask or chuse;
Then we imbarked with two boys in train,
Who recollect our shafts, and these two men,
As down the river did we softly slide;
The banks most sweetly smil'd on either side:
To see the flowres our hearts did much rejoice—
The banwort, dazie, and the fragrant rose;
Favonius in our faces sweetly blew
His breath, which did our fainting sp'rits renew;
Then with Sicilian muse, can we dissemble
Our secret flames? making our voices tremble;
While as we sweetly sung kind Amaryllis,
And did complain of four sweet lovely Phyllis:
So sadly, that the nymphs of woods and mountains,
And these which also haunt the plains and fountains;
Barelegged to the brawns, arms bare,—and breast,
Like whitest ivory,—bare unto the waste:
The lillies and the roses of their faces,
Running more pleasant made their waving tresses,
Well curled with the winde: all these drew nigh,
The waters brink, in song to keep reply,
Treading the flowres, when Gall them so espy'd:
O! how he cast his eyes on either side
And wish'd t'have smell'd on flow'r where they had trac'd.
Judge what he would have given to have embraced.
But chiefly echo fetter'd was in love.
At everie work we spoke her tongue did move,
Then did we call, sweet nymph, pray thee draw nigh:
She answer'd us most willingly, said, I.
Draw near, said Gall, for gladly would I please thee;
Do not deny to hear me, she said, ease thee:
Then come, sweet nymph, thy face fain would I know,
She quickly answered him again, said, No:
Why so? said he:—Here is there no Narcissus:
To this her old love's name did answer, Kiss us;
Kiss us! said she, with all my heart again.
This is the thing I would: She answered, gain:
Gain! such a gain, said he, I crave alway;—
No countenance she shews, yet answers, ay;
And bashfully obscures her blushing face,
Lest from Cephisus son, she finds disgrace;
But if that she had known Gall's tender mind,
She had not prov'd so bashful and unkind:
We spied some countrie clowns to us resorting,
Who striken were with sudden admiration,
To see us graithed in such antique fashion,
Their staring eyes grew blind, their tongues were dumb,
A chilling cold their senses did benumb:
Said we, What moves yon ghosts to look so griesly?
They scarcely muttering, answered, and not wiselie,
Oft have we heard of such strange wights as ye,
But to this time we did them never see;
If ye be men or not, scarce can we tell—
Ye look like men, yet none such here do dwell;
Then said good Gall, Monsier, these fellows stupid,
Doubtless take me for Mars, and you for Cupid:
Therefore let us begone, we will not tarie,
Yon clowns will swear that they have seen the fairie;
When they come home at night, and by the fire,
Will tell such uncouth tales, all will admire,
Both man ane wife, the lads and all the lasses;
For be ye sure such clowns are very asses.
Thence down the river bank as we did walk,
And merrilie began to chant and talk,
A pretty boat with two oars we espy'd,
Fleeting upon the waters, then we cry'd,
HOW, boatmen, come; two fisher men near by,
Thus answer'd us again, and who doth cry?
Said we, good friends, to favour us delay not,—
The day is very hot, and walk we may not;
Therefore your kindly courtesie implores,
To let us have these little pair of oars;
For down the river we would make our way,
And land at Perth;—With all our heart, said they;
For we likewise at Perth would gladly be,
Only we want such companie as yee.
All men were glad of us, none did refuse,
Whatever thing it pleasde us, ask or chuse;
Then we imbarked with two boys in train,
Who recollect our shafts, and these two men,
517
The banks most sweetly smil'd on either side:
To see the flowres our hearts did much rejoice—
The banwort, dazie, and the fragrant rose;
Favonius in our faces sweetly blew
His breath, which did our fainting sp'rits renew;
Then with Sicilian muse, can we dissemble
Our secret flames? making our voices tremble;
While as we sweetly sung kind Amaryllis,
And did complain of four sweet lovely Phyllis:
So sadly, that the nymphs of woods and mountains,
And these which also haunt the plains and fountains;
Barelegged to the brawns, arms bare,—and breast,
Like whitest ivory,—bare unto the waste:
The lillies and the roses of their faces,
Running more pleasant made their waving tresses,
Well curled with the winde: all these drew nigh,
The waters brink, in song to keep reply,
Treading the flowres, when Gall them so espy'd:
O! how he cast his eyes on either side
And wish'd t'have smell'd on flow'r where they had trac'd.
Judge what he would have given to have embraced.
But chiefly echo fetter'd was in love.
At everie work we spoke her tongue did move,
Then did we call, sweet nymph, pray thee draw nigh:
She answer'd us most willingly, said, I.
Draw near, said Gall, for gladly would I please thee;
Do not deny to hear me, she said, ease thee:
Then come, sweet nymph, thy face fain would I know,
She quickly answered him again, said, No:
Why so? said he:—Here is there no Narcissus:
To this her old love's name did answer, Kiss us;
Kiss us! said she, with all my heart again.
This is the thing I would: She answered, gain:
Gain! such a gain, said he, I crave alway;—
No countenance she shews, yet answers, ay;
And bashfully obscures her blushing face,
Lest from Cephisus son, she finds disgrace;
But if that she had known Gall's tender mind,
She had not prov'd so bashful and unkind:
When ended were our songs with perfect close,
We thought it best to merrie be in prose:
Then seriously and truely to discourse,
Of diverse matters grave, we fell by course,
But chiefly of this blind world's practice had,
Preferring unto learning any trade;
For these ill times had not in such account
Men learned, as the former ages wont;
But if the worth of learning well they knew,
Good Gall, quoth I, they would make much of you,
In poetry so skill'd, and so well read
In all antiquitie, what can be said,
Whereof you fluently can now discourse,
Even like the current of this river's course:—
Things absent, you can present make appear,
And things far distant, as if they were near;
Things senseless, unto them give sense can yee,
And make them touch, taste, smell, and hear and see:
What cannot poets do? they life can give,
And after fatal stroke can make men live;
And if they please to change their tune or note,
They'l make mens' names to stink and rot.
Who did fix Hercules among the stars?
And Diomedes for his wit in wars
Made equal to the gods; but odious
For vice Thersites vile, and Sisyphus?
Thus were the immortal Muses, who do sing,
As vice and virtue do their subjects bring;
Therefore this counsel wisdom doth impart you,
Flee filthie vice and entertain fair virtue:—
We thought it best to merrie be in prose:
Then seriously and truely to discourse,
Of diverse matters grave, we fell by course,
But chiefly of this blind world's practice had,
Preferring unto learning any trade;
For these ill times had not in such account
Men learned, as the former ages wont;
518
Good Gall, quoth I, they would make much of you,
In poetry so skill'd, and so well read
In all antiquitie, what can be said,
Whereof you fluently can now discourse,
Even like the current of this river's course:—
Things absent, you can present make appear,
And things far distant, as if they were near;
Things senseless, unto them give sense can yee,
And make them touch, taste, smell, and hear and see:
What cannot poets do? they life can give,
And after fatal stroke can make men live;
And if they please to change their tune or note,
They'l make mens' names to stink and rot.
Who did fix Hercules among the stars?
And Diomedes for his wit in wars
Made equal to the gods; but odious
For vice Thersites vile, and Sisyphus?
Thus were the immortal Muses, who do sing,
As vice and virtue do their subjects bring;
Therefore this counsel wisdom doth impart you,
Flee filthie vice and entertain fair virtue:—
Yet 'tis not so that everie spirit fell,
Whose wicked tongue is set on fire of hell;
Nor everie Momus nor Archilochus,
Whose mouths do vomit venom poysonous,
Hath inspiration of the sacred Muses,
Such wickednesse the Aonian band refuses;
But he who will most gravely censure can,
And virtues praise advance in any man
With perfect numbers, such one is a poet,
But in thir days, alasse! few men do know it,
Like my dear Gall who gravely did reply,
A good Mœcenas lets no poets die;
Poets make men on gold-wing'd fame to flie,
When lands with loss, life chang'd with death shall be.
As we thus talk'd, our barge did sweetly pass
By Scone's fair palace, sometime abbay was:
Strange change indeed! yet is it no new guyse,
Both spiritual lands, and men to temporize;
But palace fair which doth so richly stand,
With gardens, orchards, parks on either hand,
Where flowers, and fruits, the hart, and fallow-deer;
For smell, for taste, for venison and cheer,
The nose, the mouth, and palate which may please,
For gardens, chambers, for delight and ease—
Damask't with porphyrie and alabaster;
Thou art not subject for each poetaster,
But for a poet master, in his art,
Which thee could whole describe, and everie part;
So to the life as 'twere in perspective,
As readers that they see thee might believe:
Mean while our boat doth with the river slide,
The countrie nymphs who in these parts abide,
With many a shout moving both head and hand,
Did us invite that we might come a land,
Not now, said we, and think it not disdain;
For we do promise for to come again,
And view where sometime stood your cathedral
And mount, which omnis terra you do call.
Whose wicked tongue is set on fire of hell;
Nor everie Momus nor Archilochus,
Whose mouths do vomit venom poysonous,
Hath inspiration of the sacred Muses,
Such wickednesse the Aonian band refuses;
But he who will most gravely censure can,
And virtues praise advance in any man
With perfect numbers, such one is a poet,
But in thir days, alasse! few men do know it,
Like my dear Gall who gravely did reply,
A good Mœcenas lets no poets die;
Poets make men on gold-wing'd fame to flie,
When lands with loss, life chang'd with death shall be.
As we thus talk'd, our barge did sweetly pass
By Scone's fair palace, sometime abbay was:
Strange change indeed! yet is it no new guyse,
Both spiritual lands, and men to temporize;
But palace fair which doth so richly stand,
With gardens, orchards, parks on either hand,
Where flowers, and fruits, the hart, and fallow-deer;
For smell, for taste, for venison and cheer,
The nose, the mouth, and palate which may please,
For gardens, chambers, for delight and ease—
Damask't with porphyrie and alabaster;
Thou art not subject for each poetaster,
519
Which thee could whole describe, and everie part;
So to the life as 'twere in perspective,
As readers that they see thee might believe:
Mean while our boat doth with the river slide,
The countrie nymphs who in these parts abide,
With many a shout moving both head and hand,
Did us invite that we might come a land,
Not now, said we, and think it not disdain;
For we do promise for to come again,
And view where sometime stood your cathedral
And mount, which omnis terra you do call.
Just by this time we see the bridge of Tay,
Oh happy sight indeed was it that day;
A bridge so stately with eleven arches,
Joining the south and north, and common march is
Unto them both, a bridge of squared stone,
So great and fair, which when I think upon,
How in these days it did so proudlie stand,
O'erlooking both the river and the land,
So fair, so high, a bridge for many ages
Most famous; but, alas! now through the rages
Of furious swelling waters thrown in deep,
My heart for sorrow sobs, myne eyes do weep:
And if my tongue should cease to cry and speak,
Undoubtedlie my griefs swoln heart would break.
But courage, Monsier, my good genius says,
Remember ye not how Gall in those days
Did you comfort, lest melancholius fits
Had you opprest, your spleen so nearly sits,
And told you in the year threescore thirteen,
The first down-fall this bridge did e'er sustain,
By ruin of three arches next the town,
Yet were rebuilt, thereafter were thrown down
Five arches in the year fourscore and two
Re edified likewise, and who doth know
Monsier, but ah, mine heart can scarcely tober!
Even that great fal the fourteenth of October,
Six hundred twenty one, repair'd may be:
And I do wish, the same that I might see:
For Britain's monarch will it sure repair,
Courage, therefore, Monsier, do not despair!
Is't credible to be believed or told,
That these our Kings who did possess of old
Scotland alone, should such a work erect,
And Britain's mighty Monarch it neglect?
Absurd it is to think, much more to speak it;
Therefore, good Monsier, yee do far mistake it,
For never yet a King was more inclin'd,
To do great works, nor of a braver mind,
Providing he can have due information,
His word will prove of powerful operation:
For Kings are gods on earth, and all their actions
Do represent the Almightie's great perfections.
Oh happy sight indeed was it that day;
A bridge so stately with eleven arches,
Joining the south and north, and common march is
Unto them both, a bridge of squared stone,
So great and fair, which when I think upon,
How in these days it did so proudlie stand,
O'erlooking both the river and the land,
So fair, so high, a bridge for many ages
Most famous; but, alas! now through the rages
Of furious swelling waters thrown in deep,
My heart for sorrow sobs, myne eyes do weep:
And if my tongue should cease to cry and speak,
Undoubtedlie my griefs swoln heart would break.
But courage, Monsier, my good genius says,
Remember ye not how Gall in those days
Did you comfort, lest melancholius fits
Had you opprest, your spleen so nearly sits,
And told you in the year threescore thirteen,
The first down-fall this bridge did e'er sustain,
By ruin of three arches next the town,
Yet were rebuilt, thereafter were thrown down
Five arches in the year fourscore and two
Re edified likewise, and who doth know
Monsier, but ah, mine heart can scarcely tober!
Even that great fal the fourteenth of October,
Six hundred twenty one, repair'd may be:
And I do wish, the same that I might see:
For Britain's monarch will it sure repair,
Courage, therefore, Monsier, do not despair!
Is't credible to be believed or told,
That these our Kings who did possess of old
Scotland alone, should such a work erect,
And Britain's mighty Monarch it neglect?
Absurd it is to think, much more to speak it;
Therefore, good Monsier, yee do far mistake it,
520
To do great works, nor of a braver mind,
Providing he can have due information,
His word will prove of powerful operation:
For Kings are gods on earth, and all their actions
Do represent the Almightie's great perfections.
Thus Gall's sweet words often do me comfort,
And my good genius truly doth report
Them unto me, else sure my splene would wholy
Be evercome with fits of melancholie.
Therefore I courage take, and hope to see
A bridge yet built, although I aged be;
More stately, firm, more sumptuous and fair,
Than any former age could yet compare.
Thus Gall assured me it would be so,
And my good genius truly doth it know:
For what we do presage is not in grosse,
For we be brethren of the rosie cross;
We have the mason-word and second sight,
Things for to come we can foretell aright,
And shall we show what misterie we mean,
In fair acrosticks Carolus Rex is seen,
Describ'd upon that bridge in perfect gold,
By skilfull art this cleerlie we behold,
With all the scutcheon of Great Britain's king,
Which unto Perth most joyfull news shall bring.
Loath would we be this misterie to unfold,
But for King Charles his honour we are bold,
And my good genius truly doth report
Them unto me, else sure my splene would wholy
Be evercome with fits of melancholie.
Therefore I courage take, and hope to see
A bridge yet built, although I aged be;
More stately, firm, more sumptuous and fair,
Than any former age could yet compare.
Thus Gall assured me it would be so,
And my good genius truly doth it know:
For what we do presage is not in grosse,
For we be brethren of the rosie cross;
We have the mason-word and second sight,
Things for to come we can foretell aright,
And shall we show what misterie we mean,
In fair acrosticks Carolus Rex is seen,
Describ'd upon that bridge in perfect gold,
By skilfull art this cleerlie we behold,
With all the scutcheon of Great Britain's king,
Which unto Perth most joyfull news shall bring.
Loath would we be this misterie to unfold,
But for King Charles his honour we are bold,
And as our boat most pleasantly did pass,
Upon the crystal river clear as glass:
My dearest Gall, quoth I, long time I spend,
Revolving from beginning to the end;
All our records yet searching cannot finde,
First when this bridge was built, therefore thy mind
Fain would I know, for I am verrie sorrie
Such things should be omitted in our storie
Monsier, said Gall, things many of that kind
To be omitted often do we find;
Yea, time hath also greatest works destroyed,
Wherein the learn'dest pennes have been employed:
But if that I should tell what I do know,
An antient storie I could to you show,
Which I have found in an old manuscript,
But in our late records is overslipt:
Which storie no less probable is than true,
And my good Monsier I will shew it you.
I leave to speak what Hollinshed hath told
Of Cunidad, was Britane's King of old,
The time Uzziah was of Judah King,
And Jeroboam did over Israel reign;
Ere Rome a city was years forty-five;
Ere sons of Rhea did for masterie strive;
How that this heathen built three cells of stone:
To Mercurie at Bongor built he one,
His way for to direct: then to Apollo
At Cornuel another did he hallow,
For favourable response: the third to Mars,
Where Perth now stands, for to assist his wars.
But good Monsier this story is too old,
Therefore I leave the rest of it untold.
The time will not permit me to out read it,
I'm sure in Hollinshed yee often read it.
I will a storie of no less credit tell,
In after ages truely what befell.
Upon the crystal river clear as glass:
My dearest Gall, quoth I, long time I spend,
Revolving from beginning to the end;
All our records yet searching cannot finde,
First when this bridge was built, therefore thy mind
Fain would I know, for I am verrie sorrie
Such things should be omitted in our storie
Monsier, said Gall, things many of that kind
To be omitted often do we find;
Yea, time hath also greatest works destroyed,
Wherein the learn'dest pennes have been employed:
But if that I should tell what I do know,
An antient storie I could to you show,
Which I have found in an old manuscript,
But in our late records is overslipt:
Which storie no less probable is than true,
And my good Monsier I will shew it you.
I leave to speak what Hollinshed hath told
Of Cunidad, was Britane's King of old,
521
And Jeroboam did over Israel reign;
Ere Rome a city was years forty-five;
Ere sons of Rhea did for masterie strive;
How that this heathen built three cells of stone:
To Mercurie at Bongor built he one,
His way for to direct: then to Apollo
At Cornuel another did he hallow,
For favourable response: the third to Mars,
Where Perth now stands, for to assist his wars.
But good Monsier this story is too old,
Therefore I leave the rest of it untold.
The time will not permit me to out read it,
I'm sure in Hollinshed yee often read it.
I will a storie of no less credit tell,
In after ages truely what befell.
When mightie Romaines came into this soil,
With endless labour and undaunted toil,
After great conflicts and uncertain chance
Of fortune's dye, they did in arms advance;
At length unto these parts where Perth doth stand,
Under the conduct and victorious hand
Of that most valiant chieftain of great fame,
Brave Julius Agricola by name;
And there, hard by a river side, they found
The fairest and most pleasant plat of ground,
That since by bank of Tiber they had been,
The like for beauty seldom had they seen,
Of eighteen hundred paces good in length,
From Muretown braes to foot of Carnac's strength,
King of the Pights which stood on Moredun hill,
The foot thereof from Friers dwelt thereintill,
Now named is, in breadth eight hundred paces,
Painted with white, red, yellow, flowerie faces.
So equal fair, which when they did espy,
Incontinent they Campus Martius cry,
And as an happie presage they had seen,
They fix their tents amidst that spacious green,
Right where now Perth doth stand, and cast their trenches,
Even where Perth's fowsies are, between these inches,
The south and north; and bastiles they make,
The power and strength of Scots and Picts to break,
Who presentlie would fight, by wise cunctation,
They frustrate all their hope and expectation:
For well this most victorious Roman knew,
T'abate his enemies rage and courage too,
Finding the place even to their hearts desire,
With grass for pasture stored, and wood for fire.
The river likewise very opportune,
For lighter vessels to pass up and down,
And correspondence with their navy make,
As soldiers wise, they all occasions take.
And do conclude to winter in that place,
To foil their foes by voluntarie chace.
With endless labour and undaunted toil,
After great conflicts and uncertain chance
Of fortune's dye, they did in arms advance;
At length unto these parts where Perth doth stand,
Under the conduct and victorious hand
Of that most valiant chieftain of great fame,
Brave Julius Agricola by name;
And there, hard by a river side, they found
The fairest and most pleasant plat of ground,
That since by bank of Tiber they had been,
The like for beauty seldom had they seen,
Of eighteen hundred paces good in length,
From Muretown braes to foot of Carnac's strength,
King of the Pights which stood on Moredun hill,
The foot thereof from Friers dwelt thereintill,
Now named is, in breadth eight hundred paces,
Painted with white, red, yellow, flowerie faces.
So equal fair, which when they did espy,
Incontinent they Campus Martius cry,
And as an happie presage they had seen,
They fix their tents amidst that spacious green,
522
Even where Perth's fowsies are, between these inches,
The south and north; and bastiles they make,
The power and strength of Scots and Picts to break,
Who presentlie would fight, by wise cunctation,
They frustrate all their hope and expectation:
For well this most victorious Roman knew,
T'abate his enemies rage and courage too,
Finding the place even to their hearts desire,
With grass for pasture stored, and wood for fire.
The river likewise very opportune,
For lighter vessels to pass up and down,
And correspondence with their navy make,
As soldiers wise, they all occasions take.
And do conclude to winter in that place,
To foil their foes by voluntarie chace.
Mean while courageouslie they do advise,
A bridge to build, for further enterprise;
Then furthwith fall they with redoubled stroaks,
To fell the tall fir trees, and aged oaks,
Some square the timber with a stretched line,
Some do the tenons and the morties joine,
Some frame an oval, others make a cub,
Some cut a section, other some go grub,
Some with great compasse semicircles forme,
Some drive the wages, painfullie some worme,
Some do hoise up the standers, others fixe them;
And some lay goodlie rafters o'er betwixt them;
What strength or skill can work from point to point,
They cunninglie contrive with angular joint,
And do most stronglie bind these contignations,
To make them stand against all inundations.
All men are set to frame, all hands are working,
And all engines are busied without irking:
Thus in short space, a bridge they stronglie make,
With passage fair, and for their safties sake,
A mightie strength to be; they frame withall,
On either end, a bridge to lift and fall,
That soldiers might within it keep at ease,
Admitting or repelling as they please,
A bridge to build, for further enterprise;
Then furthwith fall they with redoubled stroaks,
To fell the tall fir trees, and aged oaks,
Some square the timber with a stretched line,
Some do the tenons and the morties joine,
Some frame an oval, others make a cub,
Some cut a section, other some go grub,
Some with great compasse semicircles forme,
Some drive the wages, painfullie some worme,
Some do hoise up the standers, others fixe them;
And some lay goodlie rafters o'er betwixt them;
What strength or skill can work from point to point,
They cunninglie contrive with angular joint,
And do most stronglie bind these contignations,
To make them stand against all inundations.
All men are set to frame, all hands are working,
And all engines are busied without irking:
Thus in short space, a bridge they stronglie make,
With passage fair, and for their safties sake,
A mightie strength to be; they frame withall,
On either end, a bridge to lift and fall,
That soldiers might within it keep at ease,
Admitting or repelling as they please,
Thus fortified, lest that they should neglect
Due honour to their gods, they did erect,
To Mars a temple—rather did restore
The temple built by Cunidad before;
For time on all things worketh demolition,
And heathen men maintaine like superstition.
Then did this valiant chieftaine name the river
In Italies rememberance New Tiber,
Which afterwards it kept for many a day—
How long I know not; now 'tis called Tay;
Likewise an house of mighty stone he framed,
From whence our Castle-gavil as yet is named;
And if Domitian had not call'd him home,
I think he should have built another Rome.
Due honour to their gods, they did erect,
To Mars a temple—rather did restore
The temple built by Cunidad before;
For time on all things worketh demolition,
And heathen men maintaine like superstition.
Then did this valiant chieftaine name the river
In Italies rememberance New Tiber,
523
How long I know not; now 'tis called Tay;
Likewise an house of mighty stone he framed,
From whence our Castle-gavil as yet is named;
And if Domitian had not call'd him home,
I think he should have built another Rome.
But all these monuments were worn away,
Ere did King William Perth's foundations lay,
Only Mar's temple stood upon that greene,
And th'house built by Agricola was seene,
And some characters cunninglie incisde,
With Julius Agricola imprisde
In solid marmor; and some print was found,
Where camped had an armie, and the ground
Where there had been a bridge: all which did yield
Occasion to King William for to build
After old Bertha's overthrow, that city,
These antient walls, and famous bridge; ah! pitie
If they were as! but what doth not the rage
Of men demolish, and consuming age?
For good King William seeing where had beene
Of old a passage, forthwith did ordaine
A mightie bridge of squaired stone to be,
These famous walls and fowsies which we see,
Perth his chief strength to make, and seat of power,
Did with most ample priviledge indue her.
Ere did King William Perth's foundations lay,
Only Mar's temple stood upon that greene,
And th'house built by Agricola was seene,
And some characters cunninglie incisde,
With Julius Agricola imprisde
In solid marmor; and some print was found,
Where camped had an armie, and the ground
Where there had been a bridge: all which did yield
Occasion to King William for to build
After old Bertha's overthrow, that city,
These antient walls, and famous bridge; ah! pitie
If they were as! but what doth not the rage
Of men demolish, and consuming age?
For good King William seeing where had beene
Of old a passage, forthwith did ordaine
A mightie bridge of squaired stone to be,
These famous walls and fowsies which we see,
Perth his chief strength to make, and seat of power,
Did with most ample priviledge indue her.
These be the first memorials of a bridge,
Good Monsier, that we truely can alledge.
Thus spoke good Gall, and I did much rejoyce
To hear him these antiquities disclose;
Which I remembering now, of force must cry—
Gall, sweetest Gall, what ailed thee to die?
Good Monsier, that we truely can alledge.
Thus spoke good Gall, and I did much rejoyce
To hear him these antiquities disclose;
Which I remembering now, of force must cry—
Gall, sweetest Gall, what ailed thee to die?
524
FOURTH MUSE.
This time our boat passing too nigh the land,
The whirling stream did make her run on sand;
Aluif, we cry'd, but all in vain, t'abide
We were constrain'd till flowing of the tide.
Then Master Gall, quod I, even for my blessing
Now let us go, the pretious pearles a fishing:
Th'occasion serveth well, while here we stay
To catch these muscles you call toyts of Tay;
It's possible if no ill eye bewitch us,
We jewels finde, for all our days t'enrich us;
The waters here are shaild, and clear, and warme,
To bath our arms and limbs will do no harme,
For these sweet streams have power to bring back
Our spirits, which in outward parts make slack
Our natural strength; but when these sp'rits retire,
They multiply our heat and imbred fire,
Helping our vital, and our natural parts,
Our lungs, our livers, stomachs, and our hearts,
And mightilie refrigerate our reins,
But above all they do refresh our spleens;
For such a bathing bravely doth expell,
Melancholie, which makes the spleen to swell
More than it should, causing an atrophie,
That we like skellets rather seem to be
Than men, and Atropos appears to laugh,
Thinking we look more like an epitaph
Than marriage song; likewise it doth us make,
Both support and collation freshlie take.
Content said Gall; then off our shoes we drew
And hose, and from us we our doublets threw,
Our shirt-sleeves wreathing up, without more speeches,
And high above our knees we pulling our breeches,
In waters go; then streight mine arms I reach
Unto the ground, whence cleverlie I fetch
Some of these living pearled shells, which do
Excell in touching and in tasteing too,
As all who search, do by experience try,
And we ofttimes; therewith I loudlie cry,
Good Master Gall, behold I found a pearle,
A jewel I assure you for an Earle.
Be silent, said good Gall, or speak at leasure,
For men will cut your throat to get your treasure,
If they its worth did know so well as I;
Harpocrates my patience would try,
Said I again, for I am not like such,
Who hurd their treasure and their speech as much;
But Gall, to stay long no wayes would be moved,
This element, said he, I never loved—
To land; on goeth our clothes; alongst the way,
Then did we go, and taking cleare survey,
How proper Perth did stand, one might have drawn
In landskip fair, on paper or on lawn.
The whirling stream did make her run on sand;
Aluif, we cry'd, but all in vain, t'abide
We were constrain'd till flowing of the tide.
Then Master Gall, quod I, even for my blessing
Now let us go, the pretious pearles a fishing:
Th'occasion serveth well, while here we stay
To catch these muscles you call toyts of Tay;
It's possible if no ill eye bewitch us,
We jewels finde, for all our days t'enrich us;
The waters here are shaild, and clear, and warme,
To bath our arms and limbs will do no harme,
For these sweet streams have power to bring back
Our spirits, which in outward parts make slack
Our natural strength; but when these sp'rits retire,
They multiply our heat and imbred fire,
Helping our vital, and our natural parts,
Our lungs, our livers, stomachs, and our hearts,
And mightilie refrigerate our reins,
But above all they do refresh our spleens;
For such a bathing bravely doth expell,
Melancholie, which makes the spleen to swell
More than it should, causing an atrophie,
That we like skellets rather seem to be
Than men, and Atropos appears to laugh,
Thinking we look more like an epitaph
Than marriage song; likewise it doth us make,
Both support and collation freshlie take.
Content said Gall; then off our shoes we drew
And hose, and from us we our doublets threw,
Our shirt-sleeves wreathing up, without more speeches,
And high above our knees we pulling our breeches,
In waters go; then streight mine arms I reach
Unto the ground, whence cleverlie I fetch
Some of these living pearled shells, which do
Excell in touching and in tasteing too,
As all who search, do by experience try,
And we ofttimes; therewith I loudlie cry,
Good Master Gall, behold I found a pearle,
A jewel I assure you for an Earle.
Be silent, said good Gall, or speak at leasure,
For men will cut your throat to get your treasure,
525
Harpocrates my patience would try,
Said I again, for I am not like such,
Who hurd their treasure and their speech as much;
But Gall, to stay long no wayes would be moved,
This element, said he, I never loved—
To land; on goeth our clothes; alongst the way,
Then did we go, and taking cleare survey,
How proper Perth did stand, one might have drawn
In landskip fair, on paper or on lawn.
Good Gall said I, oftimes I heard of old,
To be of truth these things ere while you told:
But of these walls I doubt that which you said,
That good King William their foundations layd;
Their founding is more late, I you assure;
That we from strangers rage may be secure,
They builded were, even then when James did reigne
The second, and in minor age was King,
Upon a bloodie slaughter, I hear tell,
Which 'twixt our town and Highlandmen befell;
For taking, as the costume was, a staig
At Midsummer, said Gall, Monsier, you vaig,
Which word indeed my spleen almost did move;
Then Gall, said I, if that I did not love
You most entirely, I would be offended.
Said he, good Monsier, would you have it mended?
Then I that storie will you truly tell,
And if I faile so much as in a spell,
Speak all your pleasure, I my peace will hold,
And grant my tongue in speaking was too bold:
Therefore Monsier, be not so much annoy'd,
These walls have oft been built, and oft destroy'd,
And stratagems of war have acted been;
As worthy as the world hath heard or seene,
By sojours as good as the earth hath born;
This boldly to avow I der be sworn:
England's first Edwards three can shew the same,
And Scotland's Wallace, Bruce, and Stewart's fame,
Whose prowes within this isle were not confined;
The Netherlands and France scarce them contain'd,
Nor other parts of Europe, and 'tis cleare
What great exploits they bravely acted heere;
These stories are well known; I must not slack,
For by and by the tide will call us back.
To be of truth these things ere while you told:
But of these walls I doubt that which you said,
That good King William their foundations layd;
Their founding is more late, I you assure;
That we from strangers rage may be secure,
They builded were, even then when James did reigne
The second, and in minor age was King,
Upon a bloodie slaughter, I hear tell,
Which 'twixt our town and Highlandmen befell;
For taking, as the costume was, a staig
At Midsummer, said Gall, Monsier, you vaig,
Which word indeed my spleen almost did move;
Then Gall, said I, if that I did not love
You most entirely, I would be offended.
Said he, good Monsier, would you have it mended?
Then I that storie will you truly tell,
And if I faile so much as in a spell,
Speak all your pleasure, I my peace will hold,
And grant my tongue in speaking was too bold:
Therefore Monsier, be not so much annoy'd,
These walls have oft been built, and oft destroy'd,
And stratagems of war have acted been;
As worthy as the world hath heard or seene,
By sojours as good as the earth hath born;
This boldly to avow I der be sworn:
England's first Edwards three can shew the same,
And Scotland's Wallace, Bruce, and Stewart's fame,
Whose prowes within this isle were not confined;
The Netherlands and France scarce them contain'd,
Nor other parts of Europe, and 'tis cleare
What great exploits they bravely acted heere;
These stories are well known; I must not slack,
For by and by the tide will call us back.
When Edward Lang Shanks Scotland did surprise,
The strengths first did he take as Chiftian wise;
But his chief strength to keep both south and north,
Lowlands and Highlands on this side of Forth,
Perth did he chuse, and strongly fortifie
With garrisons of foot and cavalrie.
And what the former times could not outred,
In walls and fowses, these accomplished.
Thereafter worthy Wallace first expelled them,
And for to leave these walls by force compell'd them.
Whom after foughten was that fatal field,
Wofull Falkirk, envie did force to yield
Up his government; to Perth then came,
And in the Nobles presence quatte the same.
Lean fac'd envie doth often bring a nation
To civil discord, shame, and desolation:
Such bitter fruit we found, all to confusion
At once did run, was nothing but effusion
O guiltlesse blood: Our enemies did take
Our strength again, and all things went to wrake:
Such was our woefull state, unto the time
That brave King Robert Bruce came to this clime,
Most happily, yet small beginnings had,
For many yeers before this land he fred
From enemies rage, till wisely he at length
By soft recoiling recollected strength;
Then came to Perth, and did the same besiege
And take; who through pursuit and cruel rage,
Kill'd Scots and English all were in it found;
Brake down the walls, them equal'd to the ground.
But after this victorious King did die,
And brave Earle Thomas Randolph, by and by,
All things perplexed were, the Baliol proud,
With English forces both by land and flood
In Scotland came, arrived at Kinghorne,
And through the country mightily did sorne.
Our governors the Earles of Marche and Marre,
Sufficient armies levying for warre,
This pride for to represse, did fire their tents;
At Dupline camped Marre: Mine heart it rents
To tell the woefull event—in the night
This Earle and all his hoste surprisde by flight,—
Yee know the storie, all to death near brought,
The Englishmen on Scots such butcheries wrought;
Thus Baliol proud to Perth did make his way,
The city all secure ere break of day
For to surprise, naked of walls and men,
As prey most easie did obtain; and then
To fortifie the same, in haste did call,
Go cast the fowsie and repair the wall.
The Earle of March, hearing the woefull chance,
Incontinent his armie did advance
To Perth, hoping the same he might regaine,
Did straightly it besiege, but all in vaine,—
He forced was to retire; Baliol to Scone
Then went, was crown'd—rather usurp'd the crown.
By these fair fortunes having gain'd a faction,
Not for the country's peace, but for distraction,
Did overswey the ballance; none with reason
Durst call the Baliol's interprise a treason,
Because it had good success—so doth reele,
Th'inconstant course of giddie fortune's wheele,
Constant in changes of blindfolded chance;
Mean while King David Bruce did flee to France,
As yet a child, his tender life to save,
From tirranizing Baliol's bloodie glave.
The strengths first did he take as Chiftian wise;
But his chief strength to keep both south and north,
Lowlands and Highlands on this side of Forth,
526
With garrisons of foot and cavalrie.
And what the former times could not outred,
In walls and fowses, these accomplished.
Thereafter worthy Wallace first expelled them,
And for to leave these walls by force compell'd them.
Whom after foughten was that fatal field,
Wofull Falkirk, envie did force to yield
Up his government; to Perth then came,
And in the Nobles presence quatte the same.
Lean fac'd envie doth often bring a nation
To civil discord, shame, and desolation:
Such bitter fruit we found, all to confusion
At once did run, was nothing but effusion
O guiltlesse blood: Our enemies did take
Our strength again, and all things went to wrake:
Such was our woefull state, unto the time
That brave King Robert Bruce came to this clime,
Most happily, yet small beginnings had,
For many yeers before this land he fred
From enemies rage, till wisely he at length
By soft recoiling recollected strength;
Then came to Perth, and did the same besiege
And take; who through pursuit and cruel rage,
Kill'd Scots and English all were in it found;
Brake down the walls, them equal'd to the ground.
But after this victorious King did die,
And brave Earle Thomas Randolph, by and by,
All things perplexed were, the Baliol proud,
With English forces both by land and flood
In Scotland came, arrived at Kinghorne,
And through the country mightily did sorne.
Our governors the Earles of Marche and Marre,
Sufficient armies levying for warre,
This pride for to represse, did fire their tents;
At Dupline camped Marre: Mine heart it rents
To tell the woefull event—in the night
This Earle and all his hoste surprisde by flight,—
Yee know the storie, all to death near brought,
The Englishmen on Scots such butcheries wrought;
Thus Baliol proud to Perth did make his way,
The city all secure ere break of day
527
As prey most easie did obtain; and then
To fortifie the same, in haste did call,
Go cast the fowsie and repair the wall.
The Earle of March, hearing the woefull chance,
Incontinent his armie did advance
To Perth, hoping the same he might regaine,
Did straightly it besiege, but all in vaine,—
He forced was to retire; Baliol to Scone
Then went, was crown'd—rather usurp'd the crown.
By these fair fortunes having gain'd a faction,
Not for the country's peace, but for distraction,
Did overswey the ballance; none with reason
Durst call the Baliol's interprise a treason,
Because it had good success—so doth reele,
Th'inconstant course of giddie fortune's wheele,
Constant in changes of blindfolded chance;
Mean while King David Bruce did flee to France,
As yet a child, his tender life to save,
From tirranizing Baliol's bloodie glave.
Baliol install'd, in guarding leaves the town
To some true traitours not true to the crown.
Hereafter nobles and commons all combinde,
Whose kin were kill'd at Dupline in one minde,
Aveng'd to be, did come in awfull manner
Unto the citie with displayed banner,
And strongly it beseige three months and more,
Till strong assault and famine urging sore,
Forc'd them to yield, the traitours openly kill'd,
The walls were raz'd again and fowsies filled.
To some true traitours not true to the crown.
Hereafter nobles and commons all combinde,
Whose kin were kill'd at Dupline in one minde,
Aveng'd to be, did come in awfull manner
Unto the citie with displayed banner,
And strongly it beseige three months and more,
Till strong assault and famine urging sore,
Forc'd them to yield, the traitours openly kill'd,
The walls were raz'd again and fowsies filled.
Yet Baliol once more did obtain the same,
And with new fortunes much advance his name;
But who doth not find fortune's fickle chance,
Whom ere while she so highly did advance,
To hold a scepter and to wear a crown,
Now tyranizing proudly pesters down:
King Edward came with fiftie thousand brave,
To Perth the Baliol led as captive slave:
Trust not in Kings, nor kingdoms, nor applause
Of men—the world's a sea that ebbs and flowes—
A wheel that turns a reel that always rokes—
A bait that overswallowed men choakes;
Seditions rise again, this Edward Windsor,
With greater forces came, and made a wind sore
To blow through Scotland, minding a new conquest,
Did all things overwhelm even as a tempest,
Castles ov'rcome, strongly beligger Perth,
It take, rebuild her walls all thrown to earth,
Upon the charges of six abbacies,
With bulwarks, rampiers, rounds, and bastalies
Of squared stone, with towres and battlements,
Houses for prospect and such muniments
For strong defence, clouses, and water-falls,
With passage fair to walk upon the walls,
And spacious bounds within sojours to dreel,
To march, to string, to turne about and wheel:
These were the abbacies Couper, Landores,
Balmerinoch, Dumfermling, Saint Androes
And Aberbrothok, who these works did frame
For merit and for honour of their name:
Such zeal had they, though blind; ah, now a days,
Much knowledge is profest, but zeale decayes.
And with new fortunes much advance his name;
But who doth not find fortune's fickle chance,
Whom ere while she so highly did advance,
To hold a scepter and to wear a crown,
Now tyranizing proudly pesters down:
528
To Perth the Baliol led as captive slave:
Trust not in Kings, nor kingdoms, nor applause
Of men—the world's a sea that ebbs and flowes—
A wheel that turns a reel that always rokes—
A bait that overswallowed men choakes;
Seditions rise again, this Edward Windsor,
With greater forces came, and made a wind sore
To blow through Scotland, minding a new conquest,
Did all things overwhelm even as a tempest,
Castles ov'rcome, strongly beligger Perth,
It take, rebuild her walls all thrown to earth,
Upon the charges of six abbacies,
With bulwarks, rampiers, rounds, and bastalies
Of squared stone, with towres and battlements,
Houses for prospect and such muniments
For strong defence, clouses, and water-falls,
With passage fair to walk upon the walls,
And spacious bounds within sojours to dreel,
To march, to string, to turne about and wheel:
These were the abbacies Couper, Landores,
Balmerinoch, Dumfermling, Saint Androes
And Aberbrothok, who these works did frame
For merit and for honour of their name:
Such zeal had they, though blind; ah, now a days,
Much knowledge is profest, but zeale decayes.
Thus was the citie strongly fortified,
Till Robert the first Stewart first assayed
With foure great armies, yet by force repell'd,
And after three months siege with grief compell'd
To sound retreat; Douglas mean while in Tay,
Most happ'ly did arrive, then they assay
To reinforce the charge, and with munition
For batterie new prepar'd, and demolition,
Most furiously assault, a month and more;
Yet nothing could availe their endeavoure,
Untill the Earl of Rossie with new supplie
Did fortifie the leaguer, and drew by
The water, which the wall did compasse round,
By secret conduits, and made dry the ground.
Then after sharp assault, and much blood spended,
Bravely pursued, and no lesse well defended;
Finding themselves too weak who were within,
More to resist, to parlie they begin,
And treat of peace; both parties jump in one,
With bag and baggage that they should be gone,
And so it was: The citie they surrender;
No English since hath been thereof commander.
Read George Buchanan, Boece, Master Mair,
These histories they word for word declare.
After the siege the walls some part were throun down,
But were not wholly raz'd, to keep the town
In some good fort, ready for peace or war,
If not a bulwark, yet some kind of bar;
Thus did they stand, untill the Highlandmen
Amidst their furie kill'd a citizen;
A citizen to kill, an odious thing
It then was thought: no sacrifice condigne
Could expiat the same, though now each knave
Dar to account a citizen a slave;
No such conceat in all the world againe,
As proudly poor such fondlings do maintaine.
Till Robert the first Stewart first assayed
With foure great armies, yet by force repell'd,
And after three months siege with grief compell'd
To sound retreat; Douglas mean while in Tay,
Most happ'ly did arrive, then they assay
To reinforce the charge, and with munition
For batterie new prepar'd, and demolition,
Most furiously assault, a month and more;
Yet nothing could availe their endeavoure,
Untill the Earl of Rossie with new supplie
Did fortifie the leaguer, and drew by
The water, which the wall did compasse round,
By secret conduits, and made dry the ground.
Then after sharp assault, and much blood spended,
Bravely pursued, and no lesse well defended;
Finding themselves too weak who were within,
More to resist, to parlie they begin,
And treat of peace; both parties jump in one,
With bag and baggage that they should be gone,
And so it was: The citie they surrender;
No English since hath been thereof commander.
529
These histories they word for word declare.
After the siege the walls some part were throun down,
But were not wholly raz'd, to keep the town
In some good fort, ready for peace or war,
If not a bulwark, yet some kind of bar;
Thus did they stand, untill the Highlandmen
Amidst their furie kill'd a citizen;
A citizen to kill, an odious thing
It then was thought: no sacrifice condigne
Could expiat the same, though now each knave
Dar to account a citizen a slave;
No such conceat in all the world againe,
As proudly poor such fondlings do maintaine.
This sudden slaughter made a great commotion:
The burgesses without further devotion,
As men with war inur'd, to arms do flie,
Upon these Highlandmen aveng'd to be,
Which they perform, chaffed in mind like beares,
And do pursue them unto Houghman's-staires;
In memorie of this fight it hath the name,
For many men lay there, some dead, some lame;
On which occasion they 'gan fortifie
And build those walls againe, as now we see;
Though not so bravely as they were before,
For that did farr surpass their endeavour,
Yet some resemblance they do keep and fashion,
For they be builded neere the old foundation.
The burgesses without further devotion,
As men with war inur'd, to arms do flie,
Upon these Highlandmen aveng'd to be,
Which they perform, chaffed in mind like beares,
And do pursue them unto Houghman's-staires;
In memorie of this fight it hath the name,
For many men lay there, some dead, some lame;
On which occasion they 'gan fortifie
And build those walls againe, as now we see;
Though not so bravely as they were before,
For that did farr surpass their endeavour,
Yet some resemblance they do keep and fashion,
For they be builded neere the old foundation.
These are the walls, Monsier, as I have shown,
Which often have been built, oft times thrown down
With stratagems of war; fame hath renowned them,
And if not Mars, yet martiall men did found them;
But now, good Monsier, needs none more at all
Them to destroy—they of themselves will fall.
So said good Gall, and humbly begged leave
For that offence so rashly he did give.
Oh! if he were on life to say much more,
For so he was disposde sometimes to roar.
Which often have been built, oft times thrown down
With stratagems of war; fame hath renowned them,
And if not Mars, yet martiall men did found them;
But now, good Monsier, needs none more at all
Them to destroy—they of themselves will fall.
So said good Gall, and humbly begged leave
For that offence so rashly he did give.
Oh! if he were on life to say much more,
For so he was disposde sometimes to roar.
530
THE FIFTH MUSE.
Yet bold attempt and dangerous, said I,
Upon these kinde of men such chance to try,
By nature inhumaine, much given to blood,
Wilde, fierce, and cruel, in a desperate mood.
But no such danger, answer'd Master Gall,
As fearfullie you deeme, was there at all:
For Perth was then a citie made for war,
Here men were soldiers all, and bold to dar
Such motion attempt, a soldier keene
The smallest outrage hardly can sustain.
Upon these kinde of men such chance to try,
By nature inhumaine, much given to blood,
Wilde, fierce, and cruel, in a desperate mood.
But no such danger, answer'd Master Gall,
As fearfullie you deeme, was there at all:
For Perth was then a citie made for war,
Here men were soldiers all, and bold to dar
Such motion attempt, a soldier keene
The smallest outrage hardly can sustain.
Many such stratagems declare I might,
Which Perth hath acted in defence of right:
How Ruthven's place, and Dupplin, in one day
Were burn'd, or battle of the Bridge of Tay,
With manly courage fought, where kill'd were many,
Upon the day sacred to Magdalene,
Five hundreth fourtie foure, for which she mournes,
And many times her cristall tears she turnes
In flouds of woes, rememb'ring how these men
Were justly by their own ambition slaine,
Thinking to sack a town; some through despaire,
Did overleap the bridge, and perish there:
Some borne on spears, by chance did swim a land,
And some lay swelting in the flykie sand;
Agruif lay some, others with eyes to skyes,
These yielding dying sobs, these mournfull cryes;
Some by their fall were fixed on their spears;
Some swat'ring in the floud the streame down bears;
By chance some got a boat, what needs more words!
They make them oars of their two handed swords:
Some doubting what to do, to leap or stay,
Were trampled under foot as mirie clay;
Confusedly to fight and flee they trimble,
The shivering spears do through their bodies tremble,
And strongly brangled in splents do quickly flee,
The glistering sword is chang'd in crimson dye;
To wrak they go, even as the raging thunder,
Rumbling and rolling roundly, breaks asunder
A thick and dampish cloud, making a shower
Of crystall gems, on earth's dry bosome powre;
So broken was that cloud, the purpure bloud
In drops distilling, rather as a floud,
The dry and dusty ground doth warmely draine;
And dying bodies in their own blood staine,
Or as the comets, or such meteors driven,
Or stars which do appear to fall from heaven.
So tumbling headlong, spears in hand they traile,
As firie dragons, seem to have a taile;
Or Phaeton, or some sulfurious ball,
So from the bridge in river do they fall.
I pray thee Gall, quoth I, that storie show,
Some things I heard of it, and more would know,—
Tell it I pray. No, no, Gall did reply,
Lest I offend our neighbour-town neere by,
When they shall hear how malice did provoke them,
Ambition them guide, and avarice choak them;
Thinking upon our spoyles triumph to make,
And on th'occasion given our town to wrak,
With full commission purchast for the same,
T'intrude a provost, else with sword and flame
All to destroy, given by the Cardinall,
At whose devotion then was govern'd all:
So in that morning soon by break of day,
The town all silent did beset; then they
To clim the bridge begin, and port to skall,;
The chains they break, and let the drawbridge fall;
The little gate of purpose was left patent,
And all our citizens in lanes were latent;
None durst be seene, the enemies to allure,
Their own destruction justly to procure;
Thus entring, though well straitly, one did call—
All is our owne! come fellow soldiers all,
Advance your lordlie pace; take and destroy!—
Build up your fortunes! Oh: with what great joy
These words were heard! Then did they proudly step,
As men advanc'd on stilts, and cock their cap;
With rouling eyes they looke, and hand in side,
Throwing their noses, snuffe, and with great pride,
Self looking at their brawnes, themselves admire,
And doubting at their own hearts closely, speare
If it be they; thus wondering do they pause
a pretty while; anon they quickly loose
With swifter pace, and turning round, they move
If there be any gazer to approve
Their great conceit; thus inly filled with glee,
They wish their wife or mistres might them see;
Scorning Alcides, they his strength would try,
And in their braine the world they would defie,
With such brave thoughts they throng in through the port,
Thinking the play of fortune bairnely sport;
And as proud peacocks with their plumes do prank,
Alongst the bridge they merche in battle rank,
Till they came to the gate with yron bands,
Hard by where yet our ladies chappell stands;
Thinking to break these bars, it made some hover—
Too strong they were, therefore some did leap over,
Some crept below; thus many pass in by them,
And in their high conceat they do defie them;
Foreward within the town a space they go;
The passage then was strait, as well ye know,
Made by a wall; having gained so much ground
They can exult: Incontinent did sound
A trumpet from a watch-tower;—then they start,
And all their bloud do strike into their heart!
A wondrous change!—even now the bravest fellows
In their own fansies glasse, who came to quell us,
The vital spirits their artires do containe,
Their panting hearts now scarcely can sustaine.
Which Perth hath acted in defence of right:
How Ruthven's place, and Dupplin, in one day
Were burn'd, or battle of the Bridge of Tay,
With manly courage fought, where kill'd were many,
Upon the day sacred to Magdalene,
Five hundreth fourtie foure, for which she mournes,
And many times her cristall tears she turnes
In flouds of woes, rememb'ring how these men
Were justly by their own ambition slaine,
Thinking to sack a town; some through despaire,
Did overleap the bridge, and perish there:
Some borne on spears, by chance did swim a land,
And some lay swelting in the flykie sand;
Agruif lay some, others with eyes to skyes,
These yielding dying sobs, these mournfull cryes;
Some by their fall were fixed on their spears;
Some swat'ring in the floud the streame down bears;
By chance some got a boat, what needs more words!
They make them oars of their two handed swords:
Some doubting what to do, to leap or stay,
Were trampled under foot as mirie clay;
Confusedly to fight and flee they trimble,
The shivering spears do through their bodies tremble,
And strongly brangled in splents do quickly flee,
The glistering sword is chang'd in crimson dye;
To wrak they go, even as the raging thunder,
Rumbling and rolling roundly, breaks asunder
A thick and dampish cloud, making a shower
Of crystall gems, on earth's dry bosome powre;
531
In drops distilling, rather as a floud,
The dry and dusty ground doth warmely draine;
And dying bodies in their own blood staine,
Or as the comets, or such meteors driven,
Or stars which do appear to fall from heaven.
So tumbling headlong, spears in hand they traile,
As firie dragons, seem to have a taile;
Or Phaeton, or some sulfurious ball,
So from the bridge in river do they fall.
I pray thee Gall, quoth I, that storie show,
Some things I heard of it, and more would know,—
Tell it I pray. No, no, Gall did reply,
Lest I offend our neighbour-town neere by,
When they shall hear how malice did provoke them,
Ambition them guide, and avarice choak them;
Thinking upon our spoyles triumph to make,
And on th'occasion given our town to wrak,
With full commission purchast for the same,
T'intrude a provost, else with sword and flame
All to destroy, given by the Cardinall,
At whose devotion then was govern'd all:
So in that morning soon by break of day,
The town all silent did beset; then they
To clim the bridge begin, and port to skall,;
The chains they break, and let the drawbridge fall;
The little gate of purpose was left patent,
And all our citizens in lanes were latent;
None durst be seene, the enemies to allure,
Their own destruction justly to procure;
Thus entring, though well straitly, one did call—
All is our owne! come fellow soldiers all,
Advance your lordlie pace; take and destroy!—
Build up your fortunes! Oh: with what great joy
These words were heard! Then did they proudly step,
As men advanc'd on stilts, and cock their cap;
With rouling eyes they looke, and hand in side,
Throwing their noses, snuffe, and with great pride,
Self looking at their brawnes, themselves admire,
And doubting at their own hearts closely, speare
If it be they; thus wondering do they pause
a pretty while; anon they quickly loose
With swifter pace, and turning round, they move
If there be any gazer to approve
Their great conceit; thus inly filled with glee,
They wish their wife or mistres might them see;
532
And in their braine the world they would defie,
With such brave thoughts they throng in through the port,
Thinking the play of fortune bairnely sport;
And as proud peacocks with their plumes do prank,
Alongst the bridge they merche in battle rank,
Till they came to the gate with yron bands,
Hard by where yet our ladies chappell stands;
Thinking to break these bars, it made some hover—
Too strong they were, therefore some did leap over,
Some crept below; thus many pass in by them,
And in their high conceat they do defie them;
Foreward within the town a space they go;
The passage then was strait, as well ye know,
Made by a wall; having gained so much ground
They can exult: Incontinent did sound
A trumpet from a watch-tower;—then they start,
And all their bloud do strike into their heart!
A wondrous change!—even now the bravest fellows
In their own fansies glasse, who came to quell us,
The vital spirits their artires do containe,
Their panting hearts now scarcely can sustaine.
Our soldiers then, who lying were a darning,
By sound of trumpet having got a warning,
Do kyth, and give the charge; to tell the rest—
Ye know it well, it needs not be exprest;
Many to ground were born, much blood was shed—
He was the prettiest man that fastest fled:
Yea, happie had they been, if place had served
To flee, then doubtlesse more had been preserved;
Within these bars were kill'd above threescore,
Upon the bridge and waters many more;
But most of all did perish in the chace,
For they pursued were unto the place
Where all their baggage and their cannon lay,
Which to the town was brought as lawfull prey.
By sound of trumpet having got a warning,
Do kyth, and give the charge; to tell the rest—
Ye know it well, it needs not be exprest;
Many to ground were born, much blood was shed—
He was the prettiest man that fastest fled:
Yea, happie had they been, if place had served
To flee, then doubtlesse more had been preserved;
Within these bars were kill'd above threescore,
Upon the bridge and waters many more;
But most of all did perish in the chace,
For they pursued were unto the place
Where all their baggage and their cannon lay,
Which to the town was brought as lawfull prey.
What shall I more say?—if you more would have,
I'll speak of these three hundreth soldiers brave,
Like these renown'd Lacedemonians,
Courageous Thebans, valiant Thespians,
Resolved to die, led by Leonidas,
Stopt Xerxes armie at Thermopylas:
Such were these men who for religion's sake
A cord of hemp about their necks did take,
Solmenly sworn to yield their lives thereby,
Or they the gospel's veritie deny:
Quitting their houses, goods, and pleasures all,
Resolved for any hazard might befall,
Did passe forth of the town in armes, to fight
And die or they their libertie and light
Should lose; and whosoever should presume
To turn away, that cord should be his doome.
I'll speak of these three hundreth soldiers brave,
Like these renown'd Lacedemonians,
Courageous Thebans, valiant Thespians,
Resolved to die, led by Leonidas,
Stopt Xerxes armie at Thermopylas:
Such were these men who for religion's sake
A cord of hemp about their necks did take,
Solmenly sworn to yield their lives thereby,
Or they the gospel's veritie deny:
Quitting their houses, goods, and pleasures all,
Resolved for any hazard might befall,
533
And die or they their libertie and light
Should lose; and whosoever should presume
To turn away, that cord should be his doome.
Hence of Saint Johnston's ribband came the word
In such a frequent use, when with a cord
They threaten rogues; though now all in contempt
They speak, yet brave and resolute attempt,
And full of courage, worthy imitation,
Deserving of all ages commendation,
Made these men put it on, symbole to be
They ready were for Christ to do or die:
For they were martyrs all in their affection,
And like to David's worthies in their action;
Therefore this cord should have been made a badge
And sign of honour to the after age,
Even as we see things in themselves despised,
By such rare accidents are highly prised,
And in brave skutsheons honourable born,
With mottoes rare these symboles to adorn:
Thus some have vermine, and such loathsome swarmes,
Yet honourably born are in their armes;
And some have mice, some frogs, some filthy rats,
And some have wolves and foxes, some have cats;
Yet honourable respect in all is had,
Though in themselves they loathsome be and bad;
Thus Millaine glories in the baneful viper,
As none more honour, misterie no deeper:
The antient Gauls in toads—in lilies now
Metamorphos'de: the Phrygians in their sow:
Athens their owle with the eagle will not barter,
And honisoit, who thinks ill of garter?
What shall be said, then, of this rope or cord?—
Although of all men it be now abhorr'd,
And spoke of in disdain, their ignorance
Hath made them so to speake; yet may it chance
When they shall know the truth they will speak better,
And think of it as of a greater matter,
And truly it esteem an hundred fold
Of much more honour than a chain of gold;
Thus may you see, Monsier, men of renown
Of old time have possest this antient town,
And yet this may we boast, even to this day,
Men of good wit and worth do not decay;
For to this houre some footsteps still remaines
Of such couragious hearts and cunning braines.
Good Master Gall, quoth I, I know that well
Whereof you speak, and clearly can it tell;
For I did see these men, (being then of age
Some twelve or thirteen years—a pretty page,
As easely you may guesse,) and can you show
Some partial poynts whereof you nothing know,
Nor are they written. Then answered Master Gall—
A witness such as you is above all
Exception; therefore show what you did see
Or hear, good Monsier, your antiquitie
Is of much credit. Master Gall, quoth I,
Much did I see, and much more did I try;
My father was an man active and wight
In those dayes, and who helped for to fight
The battle of the bridge; within few years
Thereafter was I borne; then all our quires
And convents richly stood, which I did see
With all their pomp; but these things told to me,
First will I shew a storie of much ruth,
How that our martyrs suffered for the truth
Of Christ's blest gospel, on Paul's holy day,
Before the fight was of the bridge of Tay;
In that same yeere the silly governor,
Led by the crafty cardinall, with power
Held judgment on these men, and under trust
Condemn'd them; nothing their bloudie lust
Could satiat. The citizens, made sure
Their neighbours should not lose, nor skaith endure,
Go to their homes; forthwith the cardinall
Causde lead them unto execution all;
And from the Spey Tower window did behold
Doome execut, even as his cleargie would:
Which treacherous fact did so enrage the town,
No credit more to black, white, nor gray gown
After these dayes was given. Thus in the place
Where malefactors end their wicked race,
These innocents do make a blessed end,
And unto God their spirits they recommend,
In witnesse of the faith, for which they die,
And by the sp'rit of truth did prophesie
These words, looking and pointing with the hand
Towards our monasteries, which then did stand,
Most sumptuously adorn'd with steeples, bells,
Church ornaments, and what belongeth else:—
“These foxes which do lurke within these holes,
Delighting in the earth like blinded moles,
Drown'd in their lusts, and swimming in their pleasures,
Whose God their belly, whose chief joy their treasures,
Who caused have our death, shall hounded be
Forth of these dens!—some present here shall see
The same ere it be long; then shall ye say,
It's for God's truth that we have dyed this day;
And all these sumptuous buildings shall be cast
Down to the earth—made desolat and waste;
This to performe God's zeale shall eat men up,
To fill the double potion in their cup;
The apples then of pleasure, which they loved
And lusted after, shall be all removed;
Yea, scarcely shall they finde a hole to hide
Their heads (thus by the sp'rite they testified);
And in that day true pastors shall the Lord
Raise up to feed his flock with his pure word,
And make Christ's people by peculiar choice
Dignosce the shepherds from the hyreling's voice.”
Which as they did foretell did come to passe,
Some sixteen years, or thereby, more or lesse;
Thus with clear signes, by God's own sp'rit exprest,
In full assurance of heaven's blesse they rest.
Meanwhile, Saint Catherine's chaplain standing by,
Wringing his eyes and hands, did often cry—
Alace! alace! for this unhappie turn,
I feare for it one day we shall all mourn,
And that by all it shall be plainly said,
That we blind guides the blinded long have led;
Some churchmen there bad pack him heretic,
Else certainly they should cause burne him quick.
This done, friends take their bodies, and with mourning
Do cary them towards the town, returning
With heavy hearts, them to this chapel bring,
But no soule masse nor dirge durst sing;
Yet this good priest did lay them on the altar,
And all night read th'epistle and the psalter
With heart devout and sad; from th'evening vapours
Placing upon the altar burning tapers
Unto the dawning; exequies thus ended,
Their bodies to the earth are recommended.
In such a frequent use, when with a cord
They threaten rogues; though now all in contempt
They speak, yet brave and resolute attempt,
And full of courage, worthy imitation,
Deserving of all ages commendation,
Made these men put it on, symbole to be
They ready were for Christ to do or die:
For they were martyrs all in their affection,
And like to David's worthies in their action;
Therefore this cord should have been made a badge
And sign of honour to the after age,
Even as we see things in themselves despised,
By such rare accidents are highly prised,
And in brave skutsheons honourable born,
With mottoes rare these symboles to adorn:
Thus some have vermine, and such loathsome swarmes,
Yet honourably born are in their armes;
And some have mice, some frogs, some filthy rats,
And some have wolves and foxes, some have cats;
Yet honourable respect in all is had,
Though in themselves they loathsome be and bad;
Thus Millaine glories in the baneful viper,
As none more honour, misterie no deeper:
The antient Gauls in toads—in lilies now
Metamorphos'de: the Phrygians in their sow:
Athens their owle with the eagle will not barter,
And honisoit, who thinks ill of garter?
What shall be said, then, of this rope or cord?—
Although of all men it be now abhorr'd,
And spoke of in disdain, their ignorance
Hath made them so to speake; yet may it chance
When they shall know the truth they will speak better,
And think of it as of a greater matter,
And truly it esteem an hundred fold
Of much more honour than a chain of gold;
Thus may you see, Monsier, men of renown
Of old time have possest this antient town,
And yet this may we boast, even to this day,
Men of good wit and worth do not decay;
For to this houre some footsteps still remaines
Of such couragious hearts and cunning braines.
Good Master Gall, quoth I, I know that well
Whereof you speak, and clearly can it tell;
534
Some twelve or thirteen years—a pretty page,
As easely you may guesse,) and can you show
Some partial poynts whereof you nothing know,
Nor are they written. Then answered Master Gall—
A witness such as you is above all
Exception; therefore show what you did see
Or hear, good Monsier, your antiquitie
Is of much credit. Master Gall, quoth I,
Much did I see, and much more did I try;
My father was an man active and wight
In those dayes, and who helped for to fight
The battle of the bridge; within few years
Thereafter was I borne; then all our quires
And convents richly stood, which I did see
With all their pomp; but these things told to me,
First will I shew a storie of much ruth,
How that our martyrs suffered for the truth
Of Christ's blest gospel, on Paul's holy day,
Before the fight was of the bridge of Tay;
In that same yeere the silly governor,
Led by the crafty cardinall, with power
Held judgment on these men, and under trust
Condemn'd them; nothing their bloudie lust
Could satiat. The citizens, made sure
Their neighbours should not lose, nor skaith endure,
Go to their homes; forthwith the cardinall
Causde lead them unto execution all;
And from the Spey Tower window did behold
Doome execut, even as his cleargie would:
Which treacherous fact did so enrage the town,
No credit more to black, white, nor gray gown
After these dayes was given. Thus in the place
Where malefactors end their wicked race,
These innocents do make a blessed end,
And unto God their spirits they recommend,
In witnesse of the faith, for which they die,
And by the sp'rit of truth did prophesie
These words, looking and pointing with the hand
Towards our monasteries, which then did stand,
Most sumptuously adorn'd with steeples, bells,
Church ornaments, and what belongeth else:—
“These foxes which do lurke within these holes,
Delighting in the earth like blinded moles,
Drown'd in their lusts, and swimming in their pleasures,
Whose God their belly, whose chief joy their treasures,
535
Forth of these dens!—some present here shall see
The same ere it be long; then shall ye say,
It's for God's truth that we have dyed this day;
And all these sumptuous buildings shall be cast
Down to the earth—made desolat and waste;
This to performe God's zeale shall eat men up,
To fill the double potion in their cup;
The apples then of pleasure, which they loved
And lusted after, shall be all removed;
Yea, scarcely shall they finde a hole to hide
Their heads (thus by the sp'rite they testified);
And in that day true pastors shall the Lord
Raise up to feed his flock with his pure word,
And make Christ's people by peculiar choice
Dignosce the shepherds from the hyreling's voice.”
Which as they did foretell did come to passe,
Some sixteen years, or thereby, more or lesse;
Thus with clear signes, by God's own sp'rit exprest,
In full assurance of heaven's blesse they rest.
Meanwhile, Saint Catherine's chaplain standing by,
Wringing his eyes and hands, did often cry—
Alace! alace! for this unhappie turn,
I feare for it one day we shall all mourn,
And that by all it shall be plainly said,
That we blind guides the blinded long have led;
Some churchmen there bad pack him heretic,
Else certainly they should cause burne him quick.
This done, friends take their bodies, and with mourning
Do cary them towards the town, returning
With heavy hearts, them to this chapel bring,
But no soule masse nor dirge durst sing;
Yet this good priest did lay them on the altar,
And all night read th'epistle and the psalter
With heart devout and sad; from th'evening vapours
Placing upon the altar burning tapers
Unto the dawning; exequies thus ended,
Their bodies to the earth are recommended.
This chappel sometime stood by our theater,
Where I my self sprinkled with holy water,
After these dayes did often here the messe,
Albeit I knew not what it did expresse;
But this I saw: a man with shaven crown,
Raz'd beard and lips, who look't like a baboun,
Perfumed with odours, and in priestly vestures,
Did act this mimic toy with thousand gestures;—
A misterie indeed, nor which no fable
Acted on stage to make you laugh more able.
Where I my self sprinkled with holy water,
After these dayes did often here the messe,
Albeit I knew not what it did expresse;
But this I saw: a man with shaven crown,
Raz'd beard and lips, who look't like a baboun,
Perfumed with odours, and in priestly vestures,
Did act this mimic toy with thousand gestures;—
A misterie indeed, nor which no fable
Acted on stage to make you laugh more able.
536
After these innocents were martyred thus,
As you have heard, churchmen were odious;
And when occasion served, so did they finde:
For so soon as did blow a contrare winde
The hour was come, and then our Knox did sound—
Pull down their idols!—throw them to the ground!
The multitude, even as a speat, did rush then,
In powder beat, and call'd them all Nebushtan;
Our Blackfriars church and place, Whitefriars, and Gray
Profaned, and cast to the ground were in one day;
The Charterhouse, like a citadale, did hold
Some two dayes more, untill these news were told:
We should be raz'd, and sack't, and brought to ground,
Not so much as a footstep should be found
Where was such citie—neither sex nor age
Should saved be, until the cruell rage
Of fire and sword should satiate that moud,
Quenching the fire with citizen's owne bloud,
And with destruction's besome sweep from station,
And sow with salt perpetual desolation;
To signifiy these news made great commotion:
The fear full people ran to their devotion;
Doctrine and prayers done; chief men advise
To take in hand first what great enterprise;
Said one, This place hard by our town doth stand,
A mighty strength, which early may command,
And wrecke our citie, therefore let us go
In time, and to the ground it overthrow:
For sure our enemies will possesse the same,
And us from thence destroy with sword and flame,
Even at their pleasure. Then they all conclude
In arms to rise; and rushing as a floud
Which overflowes the banks, and headlong hurles
The strongest bulwarks with devouring whirles,
Swallowing the mighty ships—them overwhelme,
Nothing availes his skill that guides the helme:
Even so the multitude in armes arise,
With noise confusde of a mirth and mourning cryes,
For that fair palace, then six score nine years
Which had continued; turning of the spheres
The fatal period brought—to ground it must,
And all its pomp and riches turne to dust.
Even as these martyrs truly did fortell,
In every point the judgement so befell:
Towres fall to ground—monks flee to hide their heads,
Nothing availe their rosaries and beads;
Then all men cry'd, Raze, raze, the time is come,
Avenge the guiltlesse blood, and give the doome!
Courage to give was mightily then blown
Saint Johnston's hunt's up—since most famous known
By all musicians, when they sweetly sing
With heavenly voice, and well concording string;
O how they bend their backs and fingers tirle!
Moving their quivering heads, their brains do whirle
With divers moods; and as with uncouth rapture
Transported, so doth shake their bodie's structure:
Their eyes do reele, heads, arms, and shoulders, move;
Feet, legs, and hands, and all their parts approve
That heavenly harmonie: while as they threw
Their browes, O mighty strain! that's brave! they shew
Great fantasie; quivering a brief some while,
With full consent they close, then give a smile;
With bowing bodie, and with bending knee,
Methink I heare, God save the companie.
But harmonie which heavens and earth doth please,
Could not our enemies' furious rage appease;
Cruell Erinnis reignes, destruction shoring,
Ten thousand soldiers, like wild lyons roaring,
Against our towne do merche. Fame, desolation
Proclaimes; the church, then nam'd the congregation,
Makes for defence: but ah! the burgh's distractions!
Papists and Protestants make divers factions;
The town to hold, impossible they finde,
The fields to take they purpose in their minde,
Factions within, munition, victual scarce,
Hardly to hold eight days they finde by search.
As you have heard, churchmen were odious;
And when occasion served, so did they finde:
For so soon as did blow a contrare winde
The hour was come, and then our Knox did sound—
Pull down their idols!—throw them to the ground!
The multitude, even as a speat, did rush then,
In powder beat, and call'd them all Nebushtan;
Our Blackfriars church and place, Whitefriars, and Gray
Profaned, and cast to the ground were in one day;
The Charterhouse, like a citadale, did hold
Some two dayes more, untill these news were told:
We should be raz'd, and sack't, and brought to ground,
Not so much as a footstep should be found
Where was such citie—neither sex nor age
Should saved be, until the cruell rage
Of fire and sword should satiate that moud,
Quenching the fire with citizen's owne bloud,
And with destruction's besome sweep from station,
And sow with salt perpetual desolation;
To signifiy these news made great commotion:
The fear full people ran to their devotion;
Doctrine and prayers done; chief men advise
To take in hand first what great enterprise;
Said one, This place hard by our town doth stand,
A mighty strength, which early may command,
And wrecke our citie, therefore let us go
In time, and to the ground it overthrow:
For sure our enemies will possesse the same,
And us from thence destroy with sword and flame,
Even at their pleasure. Then they all conclude
In arms to rise; and rushing as a floud
Which overflowes the banks, and headlong hurles
The strongest bulwarks with devouring whirles,
Swallowing the mighty ships—them overwhelme,
Nothing availes his skill that guides the helme:
Even so the multitude in armes arise,
With noise confusde of a mirth and mourning cryes,
For that fair palace, then six score nine years
Which had continued; turning of the spheres
The fatal period brought—to ground it must,
And all its pomp and riches turne to dust.
Even as these martyrs truly did fortell,
In every point the judgement so befell:
Towres fall to ground—monks flee to hide their heads,
Nothing availe their rosaries and beads;
537
Avenge the guiltlesse blood, and give the doome!
Courage to give was mightily then blown
Saint Johnston's hunt's up—since most famous known
By all musicians, when they sweetly sing
With heavenly voice, and well concording string;
O how they bend their backs and fingers tirle!
Moving their quivering heads, their brains do whirle
With divers moods; and as with uncouth rapture
Transported, so doth shake their bodie's structure:
Their eyes do reele, heads, arms, and shoulders, move;
Feet, legs, and hands, and all their parts approve
That heavenly harmonie: while as they threw
Their browes, O mighty strain! that's brave! they shew
Great fantasie; quivering a brief some while,
With full consent they close, then give a smile;
With bowing bodie, and with bending knee,
Methink I heare, God save the companie.
But harmonie which heavens and earth doth please,
Could not our enemies' furious rage appease;
Cruell Erinnis reignes, destruction shoring,
Ten thousand soldiers, like wild lyons roaring,
Against our towne do merche. Fame, desolation
Proclaimes; the church, then nam'd the congregation,
Makes for defence: but ah! the burgh's distractions!
Papists and Protestants make divers factions;
The town to hold, impossible they finde,
The fields to take they purpose in their minde,
Factions within, munition, victual scarce,
Hardly to hold eight days they finde by search.
Amid these doubts these valiant fellows come
In arms array'd, and beating of the drum,
With cords about their neck, Come, come, they cry,
We be the men who are resolv'd to die.
First in this quarrel; we to death will fight,
So long as courage will afford us might,
And whoso yields alive, this tow portends,
Streight must he hing where did our dearest friends
Who suffered for the truth, nothing we skunner,
This certainly we count our chiefest honour
Thus as Manassas half tribe, Reuben, Gad,
Do leave their cattle and mount Gilead,
Before their brethren over Jordan go,
In arms to fight against the cursed foe;
So these three hundred do abandon quite
Their citie, houses, goods, and chief delight,
Resolv'd to die all for the gospel's light,
Armed before their brethren march to fight;
And having gain'd a place meet to abide,
Their enemies to resist, courage they cry'd,
Be merrie fellows all, leave sad complaints,
Dine cheerfully, for sup we shall with Saints.
Fame spreads the brave attempt, all martial hearts
Inflam'd with divine zeal flock to these parts
From places most remote, in arms they rise
T'assist the matchless happie enterprise.
God giveth hearts to men, and mightiest things
By weakest means he to confusion brings:
Our enemies ears are fill'd that all our fear
Was into courage turned from despair;
Their firie rage is quencht, their hearts do fail,
Where God forsakes, nought doth man's strength avail.
Then what their open force could not work out,
By flight they endeavour to bring about,
They treat of peace: Peace flees with joyful wings,
But under it was hatcht most lewd designs
When time should serve: but he whose thought doth rule
This world's great fame, their madness did controule;
And gratiously through his aboundant pitie
Preserv'd our innocents, and sav'd our citie.
In arms array'd, and beating of the drum,
With cords about their neck, Come, come, they cry,
We be the men who are resolv'd to die.
First in this quarrel; we to death will fight,
So long as courage will afford us might,
And whoso yields alive, this tow portends,
Streight must he hing where did our dearest friends
Who suffered for the truth, nothing we skunner,
This certainly we count our chiefest honour
Thus as Manassas half tribe, Reuben, Gad,
Do leave their cattle and mount Gilead,
Before their brethren over Jordan go,
In arms to fight against the cursed foe;
So these three hundred do abandon quite
Their citie, houses, goods, and chief delight,
538
Armed before their brethren march to fight;
And having gain'd a place meet to abide,
Their enemies to resist, courage they cry'd,
Be merrie fellows all, leave sad complaints,
Dine cheerfully, for sup we shall with Saints.
Fame spreads the brave attempt, all martial hearts
Inflam'd with divine zeal flock to these parts
From places most remote, in arms they rise
T'assist the matchless happie enterprise.
God giveth hearts to men, and mightiest things
By weakest means he to confusion brings:
Our enemies ears are fill'd that all our fear
Was into courage turned from despair;
Their firie rage is quencht, their hearts do fail,
Where God forsakes, nought doth man's strength avail.
Then what their open force could not work out,
By flight they endeavour to bring about,
They treat of peace: Peace flees with joyful wings,
But under it was hatcht most lewd designs
When time should serve: but he whose thought doth rule
This world's great fame, their madness did controule;
And gratiously through his aboundant pitie
Preserv'd our innocents, and sav'd our citie.
When by small means they found themsels confounded,
Even to their very heart-roots they were wounded:
Then they began to raile, and shew their passion,
Saying, such ribbands meet for such profession.
And in contempt, when any rogue they see,
They say, Saint Johnston's ribband's meet for thee;
Or any fellow resolute in mind
For some great act, this ribband fit they finde
For such a one. Thus time made all men use
This word, and ignorance through time t'abuse,
For every bad conceit which for religion
Was stoutly undertaken in this region:
Which I did see and heare, and well do know,
And for your life the parallel me show
In all the world; except Leonidas
The rest without a third I overpasse.
Thus our Saint Johnston's ribband took the name,
Whereof we have no reason to think shame.
Even to their very heart-roots they were wounded:
Then they began to raile, and shew their passion,
Saying, such ribbands meet for such profession.
And in contempt, when any rogue they see,
They say, Saint Johnston's ribband's meet for thee;
Or any fellow resolute in mind
For some great act, this ribband fit they finde
For such a one. Thus time made all men use
This word, and ignorance through time t'abuse,
For every bad conceit which for religion
Was stoutly undertaken in this region:
Which I did see and heare, and well do know,
And for your life the parallel me show
In all the world; except Leonidas
The rest without a third I overpasse.
Thus our Saint Johnston's ribband took the name,
Whereof we have no reason to think shame.
Our skipper herewith called—HOW, turn aback,
The waters flow, and tide doth quickly make;
Therefore of this to speak was no more leisure,
For wind and tide, you know, stay no man's pleasure.
With post-haste to our berge we make our way,
The day far spent, longer we might not stay;
Our ship now fairly fleeting comes a land,
Two skilful rowers take the oars on hand,
We re-embarked, down the river slide,
Which was most pleasant with the flowing tide,
The bridge draws nigh where contrare streams do run,
Take heed, skipper, said we, these dangers shun,
The whirling stream will make our boat to coup,
Therefore let's pass the bridge by Wallace loup;
Which when we did behold, 'mongst other things
We much admired who lent his feet such wings:
Empedocles may leap in Ætna burning,
In Tiber leap may Cocles home returning:
Th'one burns in flame, the other falls in flood,
But Wallace overleaping makes all good.
The waters flow, and tide doth quickly make;
539
For wind and tide, you know, stay no man's pleasure.
With post-haste to our berge we make our way,
The day far spent, longer we might not stay;
Our ship now fairly fleeting comes a land,
Two skilful rowers take the oars on hand,
We re-embarked, down the river slide,
Which was most pleasant with the flowing tide,
The bridge draws nigh where contrare streams do run,
Take heed, skipper, said we, these dangers shun,
The whirling stream will make our boat to coup,
Therefore let's pass the bridge by Wallace loup;
Which when we did behold, 'mongst other things
We much admired who lent his feet such wings:
Empedocles may leap in Ætna burning,
In Tiber leap may Cocles home returning:
Th'one burns in flame, the other falls in flood,
But Wallace overleaping makes all good.
When we these heaven-like arches had survey'd,
We admir'd in th'air these hinging stones what stay'd;
Then thus, said Gall, these on their centers stay,
As on their bases fixt, and all their sway
They press toward the same—a wondrous thing,
Albiet the centre in the air doth hing;
Yea, divers circles, sections divers ways,
Tend to their proper centres, as their stays;
So these two sections do conjoine in one
To make the arch, and finished in a cone;
As everie peace these bowing arches bends,
It rightly pointing to the centre tends:
So heavens respect the earth, and all their powers
Together in her bosome strongly powres,
Which is their center, roote, and sure pedestall—
The steadfast base whereon this world doth rest all:
Thus man's ingine God's works doth imitate,
And skilfull art doth nature emulat;
As Archimedes in a sphere of glasse
The world's great fabrick lively did expresse,
With all the stars fixt in the azure heaven,
And all the motions of the planets seven,
Moving about a fixed point or center,
Observing houres, dayes, monthes, summer and winter,
Even so the arches of this bridge proclaime,
And shew the building of the starrie frame;
But now all lost, needs Archimedes' skill,—
Oh! if it were supplied by Master Mylne!
Thus having past the bridge, our oares we bend
To shore, so this day-voyage made an end.
We admir'd in th'air these hinging stones what stay'd;
Then thus, said Gall, these on their centers stay,
As on their bases fixt, and all their sway
They press toward the same—a wondrous thing,
Albiet the centre in the air doth hing;
Yea, divers circles, sections divers ways,
Tend to their proper centres, as their stays;
So these two sections do conjoine in one
To make the arch, and finished in a cone;
As everie peace these bowing arches bends,
It rightly pointing to the centre tends:
So heavens respect the earth, and all their powers
Together in her bosome strongly powres,
Which is their center, roote, and sure pedestall—
The steadfast base whereon this world doth rest all:
Thus man's ingine God's works doth imitate,
And skilfull art doth nature emulat;
As Archimedes in a sphere of glasse
The world's great fabrick lively did expresse,
With all the stars fixt in the azure heaven,
And all the motions of the planets seven,
Moving about a fixed point or center,
Observing houres, dayes, monthes, summer and winter,
Even so the arches of this bridge proclaime,
And shew the building of the starrie frame;
540
Oh! if it were supplied by Master Mylne!
Thus having past the bridge, our oares we bend
To shore, so this day-voyage made an end.
543
THE SIXTH MUSE.
As we arrived at our Lady's Steps,
Incontinent all men reversed their caps,
Bidding us welcome home, and joining hand,
They ask from whence we came, and from what land;
Said we, some curious, catching every wind,
Do run through sea and land to either Inde,
And compassing the globe, in circuit roll,
Some new-found lands to search beneath each pole;
Or Memphis wonders, or the Pharian tower,
Or walls which show the Babylonian power,
Or hung in th'air the Mausolean frame,
Or stately temple of the Trivian dame,
The Rhodian Colossus, and the grove
Where stood the statue of Olympian Jove,
With endless toil and labour pass to see;
Or if in all this world more wonders be,
They search the same, and so they stoutly boast,
Yet both themselves and pains are often lost:
For going men, if they return, perhaps,
Strange change, in swine transformed are their shapes!
Albeit some, though rare, who go from hence
Return, like him of Ithaca was prince;
But we, more safely passing all alongs,
Are not bewitched with such Syren songs:
In little much, well travelled in short ground,
Do search what wonders in the world are found;
Treading these mountains and these pleasant valleys—
Elisian fields had never braver alleys;
Then we imagine, and for wonders rare,
More than the Carian tomb, which hings in air,
Do we conceive. Of travels let them talk—
We in the works of learned men do walk,
And painfully their learned paths do tread,
For sure he's travel'd far who is well read;
Yea, whoso views my cabinet's rich store
Is travel'd through the world, and some part more.
Let this suffice, we travel to content us,
And of our travels think ne'er to repent us;
Yea, in our Muses we do travel more
Than they who coast and sound the Indian shore.
Yet think not so brave travels we condemn,
If with false conscience we may use the same;
Nor do we speak void of experience,
For both of us have travelled been in France,
And France for all; and if that will not ease you,
We think then all this world will never please you.
Incontinent all men reversed their caps,
Bidding us welcome home, and joining hand,
They ask from whence we came, and from what land;
Said we, some curious, catching every wind,
Do run through sea and land to either Inde,
And compassing the globe, in circuit roll,
Some new-found lands to search beneath each pole;
Or Memphis wonders, or the Pharian tower,
Or walls which show the Babylonian power,
Or hung in th'air the Mausolean frame,
Or stately temple of the Trivian dame,
The Rhodian Colossus, and the grove
Where stood the statue of Olympian Jove,
With endless toil and labour pass to see;
Or if in all this world more wonders be,
They search the same, and so they stoutly boast,
Yet both themselves and pains are often lost:
For going men, if they return, perhaps,
Strange change, in swine transformed are their shapes!
Albeit some, though rare, who go from hence
Return, like him of Ithaca was prince;
But we, more safely passing all alongs,
Are not bewitched with such Syren songs:
In little much, well travelled in short ground,
Do search what wonders in the world are found;
Treading these mountains and these pleasant valleys—
Elisian fields had never braver alleys;
Then we imagine, and for wonders rare,
More than the Carian tomb, which hings in air,
Do we conceive. Of travels let them talk—
We in the works of learned men do walk,
And painfully their learned paths do tread,
For sure he's travel'd far who is well read;
Yea, whoso views my cabinet's rich store
Is travel'd through the world, and some part more.
Let this suffice, we travel to content us,
And of our travels think ne'er to repent us;
Yea, in our Muses we do travel more
Than they who coast and sound the Indian shore.
Yet think not so brave travels we condemn,
If with false conscience we may use the same;
544
For both of us have travelled been in France,
And France for all; and if that will not ease you,
We think then all this world will never please you.
Then went we home to get some recreation,
But bye and by befell a new tentation:
Our neighbour archers, our good sport envying,
A challenge to us sent, our patience trying,
And did provoke us, if we shot for gold
Or honours praise, betimes, to-morrow would,
Or for our mistress, if we had a mind;
Doubtless, said Gall, thereto we are inclined,
But for the present we have taen in hand
To view our fields by river and by land;
Boast not, therefore, for nothing will disheart us,
Nor from our present progress will divert us;
But of our journey having made an end,
Our lives in such brave quarrels will we spend.
But bye and by befell a new tentation:
Our neighbour archers, our good sport envying,
A challenge to us sent, our patience trying,
And did provoke us, if we shot for gold
Or honours praise, betimes, to-morrow would,
Or for our mistress, if we had a mind;
Doubtless, said Gall, thereto we are inclined,
But for the present we have taen in hand
To view our fields by river and by land;
Boast not, therefore, for nothing will disheart us,
Nor from our present progress will divert us;
But of our journey having made an end,
Our lives in such brave quarrels will we spend.
This answer when they heard they did compere
With ardent hearts some further news to speer,
And what brave sport we found—what pastime rare;
Forthwith in lofty verse Gall to declare
Began, his breast when Phœbus once did warm,
Their ears and hearts his heavenly voice did charm;
And I, to keep a consort with full voice,
As fell by turn, did make them all rejoice
With sweetest rhymes: for both of us inclined,
Even as Democritus did truly mind
Of poets all, when once that sacred fire
With divine fury did our breasts inspire;
And thus with heavenly rapture, as transported,
That whole day's journey Gall to them reported,
Till Hesperus appeared, and in despite
Of heavens which hearkened, forced to bid good night:
Which when I call to mind, it makes me cry—
“Gall, sweetest Gall, what ailed thee to die?”
With ardent hearts some further news to speer,
And what brave sport we found—what pastime rare;
Forthwith in lofty verse Gall to declare
Began, his breast when Phœbus once did warm,
Their ears and hearts his heavenly voice did charm;
And I, to keep a consort with full voice,
As fell by turn, did make them all rejoice
With sweetest rhymes: for both of us inclined,
Even as Democritus did truly mind
Of poets all, when once that sacred fire
With divine fury did our breasts inspire;
And thus with heavenly rapture, as transported,
That whole day's journey Gall to them reported,
Till Hesperus appeared, and in despite
Of heavens which hearkened, forced to bid good night:
Which when I call to mind, it makes me cry—
“Gall, sweetest Gall, what ailed thee to die?”
The night was short; Phœbus did touch the line
Where crooked Cancer makes him to decline;
No sleep could close mine eyes, but wake must I,
Till fair Aurora did enlight the sky;
Then got I up, and where poor Gall did lie,
With mighty voice and chanting did I cry—
“Good Master Gall, arise, you sleep too long;”
With “Hey the day now dawns,” so was my song;
“The day now dawns,—arise, good Master Gall,”
Who answering, said, “Monsieur, I hear you call:”
And up he got. Then to our barge we go,
To answer to our boatmen, wondrous slow,
When we did call, thrice lifting up his head,
Thrice to the ground did fall again as dead;
But him to raise, I sung “Hey the day dawns,”
The drowsy fellow wak'ning, gaunts and yawns;
But getting up at last, and with a blow
Raising his fellow, bade him quickly row.
Then merrily we launch into the deep;
Phœbus, meanwhile, wakened, rose from sleep
At his appointed hour, the pleasant morning
With gilded beams the crystal streams adorning;
The pearled dew on tender grass did hang,
And heavenly quires of birds did sweetly sing;
Down by the sweet South Inch we sliding go;
Ten thousand dangling diamonds did show
The radiant repercussion of Sol's rays,
And spreading flowers did look like Argus eyes.
Where crooked Cancer makes him to decline;
No sleep could close mine eyes, but wake must I,
Till fair Aurora did enlight the sky;
Then got I up, and where poor Gall did lie,
With mighty voice and chanting did I cry—
“Good Master Gall, arise, you sleep too long;”
With “Hey the day now dawns,” so was my song;
545
Who answering, said, “Monsieur, I hear you call:”
And up he got. Then to our barge we go,
To answer to our boatmen, wondrous slow,
When we did call, thrice lifting up his head,
Thrice to the ground did fall again as dead;
But him to raise, I sung “Hey the day dawns,”
The drowsy fellow wak'ning, gaunts and yawns;
But getting up at last, and with a blow
Raising his fellow, bade him quickly row.
Then merrily we launch into the deep;
Phœbus, meanwhile, wakened, rose from sleep
At his appointed hour, the pleasant morning
With gilded beams the crystal streams adorning;
The pearled dew on tender grass did hang,
And heavenly quires of birds did sweetly sing;
Down by the sweet South Inch we sliding go;
Ten thousand dangling diamonds did show
The radiant repercussion of Sol's rays,
And spreading flowers did look like Argus eyes.
Then did we talk of city toils and cares,
Thrice happy counting him shuns these affairs,
And with us have delight these field to haunt,
Some pastoral or sonnet sweet to chaunt;
And view from far th'ambitious of this age,
Turning the helms of states, and in their rage
Make shipwreck of the same on shelves and sands,
Running by lawless laws and hard commands,
And often drown themselves in floods of woes,
As many shipwrecks of this kind well shows.
We pass our time upon the forked mountain,
And drink the crystal waters of the fountain,
Dig'd by the winged horse; we sing the trees,
The cornes, and flocks, and labours of the bees;
Of shepherd lads and lasses' homely love,
And some time strain our oaten pipe above
That mean: we sing of Hero and Leander,
Yea, Mars, all clad in steel, and Alexander;
But Cynthius, us pulling by the ear.
Did warning give to keep a lower air;
But keep what air we will, who can well say
That he himself preserve from shipwreck may?
In stormy seas, while as the ship doth reel
Of public state, the meanest boy may feel
Shipwreck, as well as he the helm who guides,
When seas do rage with winds and contrare tides:
Which, ah! too true I found, upon an oar
Not long ago, while as I swim'd to shore,
Witness my drenshed clothes, as you did see,
Which I to Neptune gave in votary,
And sign of safety. Answered Master Gall,
“Monsieur, your table hung on Neptune's wall,
Did all your loss so lively point to me,
That I did mourn, poor soul, when I did see;
But you may know in storms, thus goeth the matter,
No fish doth sip in troubled seas clean water:
Courage, therefore, that cloud is overgone,
Therefore, as we were wont, let us sing on,
For in this morning sounded in mine ear
The sweetest music ever I did hear
In all my life.” “Good Master Gall,” quod I,
“You to awake I sung so merrily.”
“Monsieur,” quoth he, “I pray thee ease my splean,
And let me hear that music once again.”
With “Hey the day now dawns” then up I got,
And did advance my voice to Ela's note,
I did so sweetly flat and sharply sing,
While I made all the rocks with echoes ring.
Thrice happy counting him shuns these affairs,
And with us have delight these field to haunt,
Some pastoral or sonnet sweet to chaunt;
And view from far th'ambitious of this age,
Turning the helms of states, and in their rage
Make shipwreck of the same on shelves and sands,
Running by lawless laws and hard commands,
And often drown themselves in floods of woes,
As many shipwrecks of this kind well shows.
We pass our time upon the forked mountain,
And drink the crystal waters of the fountain,
Dig'd by the winged horse; we sing the trees,
The cornes, and flocks, and labours of the bees;
Of shepherd lads and lasses' homely love,
And some time strain our oaten pipe above
That mean: we sing of Hero and Leander,
Yea, Mars, all clad in steel, and Alexander;
But Cynthius, us pulling by the ear.
Did warning give to keep a lower air;
But keep what air we will, who can well say
That he himself preserve from shipwreck may?
In stormy seas, while as the ship doth reel
Of public state, the meanest boy may feel
546
When seas do rage with winds and contrare tides:
Which, ah! too true I found, upon an oar
Not long ago, while as I swim'd to shore,
Witness my drenshed clothes, as you did see,
Which I to Neptune gave in votary,
And sign of safety. Answered Master Gall,
“Monsieur, your table hung on Neptune's wall,
Did all your loss so lively point to me,
That I did mourn, poor soul, when I did see;
But you may know in storms, thus goeth the matter,
No fish doth sip in troubled seas clean water:
Courage, therefore, that cloud is overgone,
Therefore, as we were wont, let us sing on,
For in this morning sounded in mine ear
The sweetest music ever I did hear
In all my life.” “Good Master Gall,” quod I,
“You to awake I sung so merrily.”
“Monsieur,” quoth he, “I pray thee ease my splean,
And let me hear that music once again.”
With “Hey the day now dawns” then up I got,
And did advance my voice to Ela's note,
I did so sweetly flat and sharply sing,
While I made all the rocks with echoes ring.
Meanwhile our boat by Freertown Hole doth slide,
Our course not stopped with the flowing tide;
We need not card, nor crosstaff for our pole;
But from thence landing clam the Dragon Hole,
With crampets on our feet, and clubs in hand,
Where it's recorded Jamie Keddie fand
A stone enchanted, like to Gyges' ring,
Which made him disappear—a wondrous thing,
If it had been his hap to have retained it;
But losing it, again could never find it:
Within this cove oft times did we repose,
As being sundered from the city woes.
Our course not stopped with the flowing tide;
We need not card, nor crosstaff for our pole;
But from thence landing clam the Dragon Hole,
With crampets on our feet, and clubs in hand,
Where it's recorded Jamie Keddie fand
A stone enchanted, like to Gyges' ring,
Which made him disappear—a wondrous thing,
If it had been his hap to have retained it;
But losing it, again could never find it:
Within this cove oft times did we repose,
As being sundered from the city woes.
From thence we passing by the Windy Gowle,
Did make the hollow rocks with echoes yowle,
And all alongst the mountains of Kinnoull,
Where did we shoot at many fox and fowl.
Kinnoull, so famous in the days of old,
Where stood a castle and a stately hold
Of great antiquity, by brink of Tay;
Woods were above, beneath fair meadows lay,
In prospect proper Perth, with all her graces,
Fair plantings, spacious greens, religious places;
Though now defaced through age and rage of men,
Within this place a lady did remain,
Of great experience, who likewise knew,
By spirit of prophecy, what should ensue:
Who saw wight Wallace and brave Bruce alive,
And both their manhoods lively did descrive
Unto that noble prince, first of that name—
Worthy King James, who hearing of her fame,
Went to her house these histories to learn,
When as for age her eyes could scarce discern.
Did make the hollow rocks with echoes yowle,
And all alongst the mountains of Kinnoull,
Where did we shoot at many fox and fowl.
547
Where stood a castle and a stately hold
Of great antiquity, by brink of Tay;
Woods were above, beneath fair meadows lay,
In prospect proper Perth, with all her graces,
Fair plantings, spacious greens, religious places;
Though now defaced through age and rage of men,
Within this place a lady did remain,
Of great experience, who likewise knew,
By spirit of prophecy, what should ensue:
Who saw wight Wallace and brave Bruce alive,
And both their manhoods lively did descrive
Unto that noble prince, first of that name—
Worthy King James, who hearing of her fame,
Went to her house these histories to learn,
When as for age her eyes could scarce discern.
This lady did foretell of many things—
Of Britain's union under Scottish kings;
And after ending of our civil feads,
Our spears in scythes, our swords should turn in speads;
In sign whereof there should arise a knight,
Sprung of the bloody yoke, who should of right
Possess these land, which she then held in fee,
Who for his worth and matchless loyalty
Unto his prince should greatly be renowned,
And of these lands instyled, and earl be crowned,
Whose son, in spite of Tay, should join these lands
Firmly by stone, on either side which stands.
Of Britain's union under Scottish kings;
And after ending of our civil feads,
Our spears in scythes, our swords should turn in speads;
In sign whereof there should arise a knight,
Sprung of the bloody yoke, who should of right
Possess these land, which she then held in fee,
Who for his worth and matchless loyalty
Unto his prince should greatly be renowned,
And of these lands instyled, and earl be crowned,
Whose son, in spite of Tay, should join these lands
Firmly by stone, on either side which stands.
Thence to the top of Law Tay did we hie,
From whence the country round about we spy;
And from the airy mountain looking down,
Beheld the stance and figure of our town:
Quadrat, with longer sides, from east to west,
Whose streets, walls, fowfies in our eyes didst cast
A pretty show; then 'gan I to declare
Where our old monasteries, with churches fair,
Sometime did stand: placed at every corner
Was one, which with great beauty did adorn her:
The Charter-house toward the southwest stood,
And at southeast the Friars, who wear grey hood;
Toward the north the Blackfriar's Church did stand,
And Carmelites upon the western hand,
With many chapels standing here and there,
And steeples fairly mounted in the air;
Our Lady's Church, St Catherine's, and St Paul's,
Where many a mess was sung for defunct souls;
The Chapel of the Rood, and sweet St Anne,
And Loret's Chapel, from Rome's Vatican
Transported hither, for a time took fasing,
(You know the cloister monks write nev'r a lessing);
For what offence I know not, or disdain,
But that same chapel borne hence is again,
For it appears no more—look whoso list,
Or else I'm sure its covered with a mist;
St Leonard's cloister, mourning Magdalene,
Whose crystal fountain flows like Hypocrene;
St John's fair church as yet in mids did stand;
A braver sight was not in all this land
Than was that town, when thus it stood decord,
As not a few yet living can record;
And to be short, for this we may not tarry on,
Of that old town this nought is but the carion.
“Monsieur,” said Gall, “that for a truth I know,
These kirks and cloisters make a goodly show;
But this as truly I dare well allege,
These kirkmen used the greatest cousenage
That ever was seen or heard.” “Good Gall, quoth I,
“How can that be?” “Monsieur, if you will try,
Too much true shall you find.” “Pray thee, good Gall,
Your speech to me seems paradoxical,
Therefore I would it know.” “Monsieur,” quoth he,
“And shall I show what such idolatry
Hath brought upon that town? The many cloisters,
Where fed there was so many idle fosters,
Monks, priests, and friars, and multitude of patrons,
Erected in their queires; the old wives and matrons
Gave great heed to these things which they did say,
And made their horned husbands to obey,
And mortify so much unto this saint,
And unto that, though they themselves should want:
Yea, twenty saints about one tenement,
Each one of them to have an yearly rent;
And all to pray for one poor wretched soul,
Which Purgatory fire so fierce should thole.
So these annuities—yearly taxations,
Are causes of these woful desolations
Which we behold—the ground of all these evils.
What to these saints they gave was given to devils;
God made them saints—men set them in God's stead—
Gave them God's honour—to them idols made;
Thus Satan served is: what men allow
On idols in his name, to him they do;
And now these friar's destroyers may be seen,
And of that city's wreck the cause have been:
For none dare buy the smallest piece of ground,
So many annual rents thereon are found;
And if he build thereon, doubtless he shall
Spend in long suits of law his moyen all.
If some good salve cure not this sore, I fear
It shall be said sometime—a town was there!”
From whence the country round about we spy;
And from the airy mountain looking down,
Beheld the stance and figure of our town:
Quadrat, with longer sides, from east to west,
Whose streets, walls, fowfies in our eyes didst cast
A pretty show; then 'gan I to declare
Where our old monasteries, with churches fair,
Sometime did stand: placed at every corner
Was one, which with great beauty did adorn her:
The Charter-house toward the southwest stood,
And at southeast the Friars, who wear grey hood;
Toward the north the Blackfriar's Church did stand,
And Carmelites upon the western hand,
With many chapels standing here and there,
And steeples fairly mounted in the air;
Our Lady's Church, St Catherine's, and St Paul's,
Where many a mess was sung for defunct souls;
The Chapel of the Rood, and sweet St Anne,
And Loret's Chapel, from Rome's Vatican
548
(You know the cloister monks write nev'r a lessing);
For what offence I know not, or disdain,
But that same chapel borne hence is again,
For it appears no more—look whoso list,
Or else I'm sure its covered with a mist;
St Leonard's cloister, mourning Magdalene,
Whose crystal fountain flows like Hypocrene;
St John's fair church as yet in mids did stand;
A braver sight was not in all this land
Than was that town, when thus it stood decord,
As not a few yet living can record;
And to be short, for this we may not tarry on,
Of that old town this nought is but the carion.
“Monsieur,” said Gall, “that for a truth I know,
These kirks and cloisters make a goodly show;
But this as truly I dare well allege,
These kirkmen used the greatest cousenage
That ever was seen or heard.” “Good Gall, quoth I,
“How can that be?” “Monsieur, if you will try,
Too much true shall you find.” “Pray thee, good Gall,
Your speech to me seems paradoxical,
Therefore I would it know.” “Monsieur,” quoth he,
“And shall I show what such idolatry
Hath brought upon that town? The many cloisters,
Where fed there was so many idle fosters,
Monks, priests, and friars, and multitude of patrons,
Erected in their queires; the old wives and matrons
Gave great heed to these things which they did say,
And made their horned husbands to obey,
And mortify so much unto this saint,
And unto that, though they themselves should want:
Yea, twenty saints about one tenement,
Each one of them to have an yearly rent;
And all to pray for one poor wretched soul,
Which Purgatory fire so fierce should thole.
So these annuities—yearly taxations,
Are causes of these woful desolations
Which we behold—the ground of all these evils.
What to these saints they gave was given to devils;
God made them saints—men set them in God's stead—
Gave them God's honour—to them idols made;
Thus Satan served is: what men allow
On idols in his name, to him they do;
And now these friar's destroyers may be seen,
And of that city's wreck the cause have been:
For none dare buy the smallest piece of ground,
So many annual rents thereon are found;
549
Spend in long suits of law his moyen all.
If some good salve cure not this sore, I fear
It shall be said sometime—a town was there!”
“Good Gall,” said I, “some melancholious fit
Molests your jovial sprite and pregnate wit;
I would some Venus-heir might cure your sadness,
Repell your sorrows, and repledge your gladness;
Therefore I'll quickly go a herbarising,
To cure that melancholic mood by snising.”
Molests your jovial sprite and pregnate wit;
I would some Venus-heir might cure your sadness,
Repell your sorrows, and repledge your gladness;
Therefore I'll quickly go a herbarising,
To cure that melancholic mood by snising.”
Herewith we turn our pace, and down again,
Pass by the Windy Gowl unto the plain;
And herbarising there a preety while,
Gall's lustie face again began to smile;
Guess then how blythe was I;—if I had found,
I would not been so blythe, a thousand pound.
Thus recreat, to boat again we go,
And down the river smoothly do we row,
Nearby Kinfauns, which famous Longueville
Sometime did hold, whose ancient sword of steel
Remains unto this day, and of that land
Is chiefest evident; on the other hand
Elcho and Elcho Park, where Wallace haunted,
A sure refuge, when Englishmen he daunted;
And Elcho nunnery, where the holy sisters
Supplied were by the fratres in their misters.
By Sleepless Isle we row, which our good kings
Gave to our town with many better things,
Before there was in that near neighbouring station,
Or friar or nun to set there their foundation.
On the other side we looked unto Balthayock,
Where many peacock calls upon his mayock;
Megginch, fair place, and Errol's pleasant seat,
With many more, which long were to relate.
Right over against is that wood, Earnside,
And fort, where Wallace oft times did reside;
While we beheld all these the tide did flow;
A lie the rudder goes—about we row;
Up to the town again we make our course,
Sweetly convoyed with Tay's reflowing source.
Pass by the Windy Gowl unto the plain;
And herbarising there a preety while,
Gall's lustie face again began to smile;
Guess then how blythe was I;—if I had found,
I would not been so blythe, a thousand pound.
Thus recreat, to boat again we go,
And down the river smoothly do we row,
Nearby Kinfauns, which famous Longueville
Sometime did hold, whose ancient sword of steel
Remains unto this day, and of that land
Is chiefest evident; on the other hand
Elcho and Elcho Park, where Wallace haunted,
A sure refuge, when Englishmen he daunted;
And Elcho nunnery, where the holy sisters
Supplied were by the fratres in their misters.
By Sleepless Isle we row, which our good kings
Gave to our town with many better things,
Before there was in that near neighbouring station,
Or friar or nun to set there their foundation.
On the other side we looked unto Balthayock,
Where many peacock calls upon his mayock;
550
With many more, which long were to relate.
Right over against is that wood, Earnside,
And fort, where Wallace oft times did reside;
While we beheld all these the tide did flow;
A lie the rudder goes—about we row;
Up to the town again we make our course,
Sweetly convoyed with Tay's reflowing source.
There we beheld where Wallace ship was drowned,
Which he brought out of France, whose bottom found
Was not long since, by Master Dickeson's art,
That rare ingeniour, skill'd in every part
Of mathematics. Quoth I, “Master Gall,
I marvel our records nothing at all
Do mention Wallace going into France;
How that can be forgot I greatly scance,
For well I know all Gascony and Guien
Do hold that Wallace was a mighty gian',
Even to this day; in Rochel likewise found
A tower, from Wallace name greatly renown'd;
Yea, Longueville's antiquities, which there
We do behold, this truly do declare
That Wallace was in France; for after that
The public place of government he quat,
Were full four years and more, before he shed
His dearest blood—ah! dearest! truly said;
And think you then that such a martial heart,
Yielding his place, would sojourn in this part,
And lazily lie loitering in some hole?
That any so should think I hardly thole;
Therefore I grieve our men should have forgotten
Themselves, and left so brave a point unwritten,
Or should it contradict, there being so many
Good reasons for this truth as is for any.”
Which he brought out of France, whose bottom found
Was not long since, by Master Dickeson's art,
That rare ingeniour, skill'd in every part
Of mathematics. Quoth I, “Master Gall,
I marvel our records nothing at all
Do mention Wallace going into France;
How that can be forgot I greatly scance,
For well I know all Gascony and Guien
Do hold that Wallace was a mighty gian',
Even to this day; in Rochel likewise found
A tower, from Wallace name greatly renown'd;
Yea, Longueville's antiquities, which there
We do behold, this truly do declare
That Wallace was in France; for after that
The public place of government he quat,
Were full four years and more, before he shed
His dearest blood—ah! dearest! truly said;
And think you then that such a martial heart,
Yielding his place, would sojourn in this part,
And lazily lie loitering in some hole?
That any so should think I hardly thole;
Therefore I grieve our men should have forgotten
Themselves, and left so brave a point unwritten,
Or should it contradict, there being so many
Good reasons for this truth as is for any.”
“Monsieur,” said he, “that's not a thing to grieve at,
For they did write his public life, not private;
For sure it is, after his public charge
Grief made him go to France, his spirit t'enlarge,—
His noble spirite, that thraldom suffered never,
For he to liberty aspired ever;
And turning home, his ship caused sunken be,
To stop the river's passage, that from sea
No English ship should come Perth to relieve,
For any chance of war fortune could give;
But now this ship, which so long time before
In waters lay, is fairly hauled ashore;
What cannot skill by mathematic move,
As would appear things natures reach above.?
For they did write his public life, not private;
For sure it is, after his public charge
Grief made him go to France, his spirit t'enlarge,—
His noble spirite, that thraldom suffered never,
For he to liberty aspired ever;
551
To stop the river's passage, that from sea
No English ship should come Perth to relieve,
For any chance of war fortune could give;
But now this ship, which so long time before
In waters lay, is fairly hauled ashore;
What cannot skill by mathematic move,
As would appear things natures reach above.?
Up by the Willowgate we make our way;
With flowing waters pleasant then was Tay.
The town appears: the great and strong Spey Tower,
And Monk's Tower, builded round, a wall of power
Extending 'twixt the two; thence goeth a snout
Of great square stones, which turns the streams about;
Two ports with double walls; on either hand
Are fowfies deep, where gorged waters stand,
And flow even as you list; but over all
The palace kythes, may named be Perth's Whithall,
With orchards like these of Hesperides;
But who shall show the Ephemerides
Of these things, which sometimes adorned that city?
That they should all be lost it were great pity,
Whose antique monuments are a great deal more
Than any inward riches, pomp, or store;
And privileges would you truly know—
Far more, indeed, than I can truly show;
Such were our king's good wills, for to declare
What pleasure and contentment they had there;
But of all privileges this is the bravest—
King James the sixth was burgess made and provost,
And gave his burgess oath, and did enrole
With his own hand within the burgess scrole
And Guildry book his dear and worthy name,
Which doth remain to Perth's perpetual fame,
And that king's glorie; thus was his graciouspleas ure
Of his most loving heart to shew the treasure;
Writing beneath his name these words most nervous,
Parcere subject is, et debellare superbos:
That is, It is the Lyon's great renown
To spare the humble, and proudlings pester down;
Which extant with his own hand you may see:
And, as inspir'd, thus did he prophesy—
“What will you say if this shall come to hand:
Perth's provost London's mayor shall command!”
Which words, when we did hear, we much admired,
And every one of us often inquired
What these could mean; some said he meant such one,
That London—yea, all England—like had none;
Some said, he minds his dignity and place,
Others his gifts of nature and of grace,
All which were true indeed; yet none could say
He meant that England's scepter he should sway,
Till that it came to pass some few years after,
Then hearts with joy and mouths were fill'd with laughter;
Happy King James the sixth, so may I say,
For I a man most jovial was that day,
And had good reason, when I kiss'd that hand
Which afterwards all Britain did command.
With flowing waters pleasant then was Tay.
The town appears: the great and strong Spey Tower,
And Monk's Tower, builded round, a wall of power
Extending 'twixt the two; thence goeth a snout
Of great square stones, which turns the streams about;
Two ports with double walls; on either hand
Are fowfies deep, where gorged waters stand,
And flow even as you list; but over all
The palace kythes, may named be Perth's Whithall,
With orchards like these of Hesperides;
But who shall show the Ephemerides
Of these things, which sometimes adorned that city?
That they should all be lost it were great pity,
Whose antique monuments are a great deal more
Than any inward riches, pomp, or store;
And privileges would you truly know—
Far more, indeed, than I can truly show;
Such were our king's good wills, for to declare
What pleasure and contentment they had there;
But of all privileges this is the bravest—
King James the sixth was burgess made and provost,
And gave his burgess oath, and did enrole
With his own hand within the burgess scrole
And Guildry book his dear and worthy name,
Which doth remain to Perth's perpetual fame,
And that king's glorie; thus was his graciouspleas ure
Of his most loving heart to shew the treasure;
Writing beneath his name these words most nervous,
Parcere subject is, et debellare superbos:
That is, It is the Lyon's great renown
To spare the humble, and proudlings pester down;
Which extant with his own hand you may see:
And, as inspir'd, thus did he prophesy—
“What will you say if this shall come to hand:
Perth's provost London's mayor shall command!”
Which words, when we did hear, we much admired,
And every one of us often inquired
What these could mean; some said he meant such one,
That London—yea, all England—like had none;
552
Others his gifts of nature and of grace,
All which were true indeed; yet none could say
He meant that England's scepter he should sway,
Till that it came to pass some few years after,
Then hearts with joy and mouths were fill'd with laughter;
Happy King James the sixth, so may I say,
For I a man most jovial was that day,
And had good reason, when I kiss'd that hand
Which afterwards all Britain did command.
“Monsieur,” said Gall, “I swear you had good reason
Most glad to be that day: for you of treason
Affoiled was of your unhappy chief.”
“Pray thee, good Gall,” quod I, “move not my grief.”
Said Gall, “Monsieur, that point I will not touch;
They'll tine their coals that burns you for a witch.”
“A witch, good Gall,” quod I, “I will be sworn,
Witchcraft's the thing that I could never learn;
Yea Master Gall, I swear that I had rather
Ten thousand chiefs been kill'd, or had my father:
The king is pater patriæ, a chief
Oft times is borne for all his kin's mischief;
And more, I know was never heart nor hand
Did prosper which that king did ever withstand;
Therefore, good Gall, I pray thee let that pass,
That happy king knew well what man I was.”
While we thus talk our boat draws nigh the shore;
Our fellows all for joy begin to roar
When they us see, and loudly thus 'gan call,
“Welcome, good Monsieur, welcome, Master Gall;
Come, come a-land, and let us merry be:
For as your boat most happily we did see,
Incontinent we bargained to and fro;
Some said it was your barge, and some said no;
But we have gained the prize and pledges all,
Therefore, come, Monsieur, come, good Master Gall,
And let us merry be while these may last—
Till all be spent we think to take no rest;
And so it was: no sleep came in our head
Till fair Aurora left Tithonus' bed;
Above all things so was good Gall's desire,
Who of good company could never tire;
Which when I call to mind it makes me cry—
“Gall, sweetest Gall, what ailed thee to die?”
Most glad to be that day: for you of treason
Affoiled was of your unhappy chief.”
“Pray thee, good Gall,” quod I, “move not my grief.”
Said Gall, “Monsieur, that point I will not touch;
They'll tine their coals that burns you for a witch.”
“A witch, good Gall,” quod I, “I will be sworn,
Witchcraft's the thing that I could never learn;
Yea Master Gall, I swear that I had rather
Ten thousand chiefs been kill'd, or had my father:
The king is pater patriæ, a chief
Oft times is borne for all his kin's mischief;
And more, I know was never heart nor hand
Did prosper which that king did ever withstand;
Therefore, good Gall, I pray thee let that pass,
That happy king knew well what man I was.”
While we thus talk our boat draws nigh the shore;
Our fellows all for joy begin to roar
When they us see, and loudly thus 'gan call,
“Welcome, good Monsieur, welcome, Master Gall;
Come, come a-land, and let us merry be:
For as your boat most happily we did see,
Incontinent we bargained to and fro;
Some said it was your barge, and some said no;
But we have gained the prize and pledges all,
Therefore, come, Monsieur, come, good Master Gall,
And let us merry be while these may last—
Till all be spent we think to take no rest;
And so it was: no sleep came in our head
Till fair Aurora left Tithonus' bed;
Above all things so was good Gall's desire,
Who of good company could never tire;
Which when I call to mind it makes me cry—
“Gall, sweetest Gall, what ailed thee to die?”
553
THE SEVENTH MUSE.
Up springs the sun, the day is cleer and fair,
Ætesiæ, sweetly breathing, cool the air;
Then coming to my cabin in a band,
Each man of us a gabion hints in hand,
Where me their serjeant-major they elected,
At my command that day to be directed,
“What pretty captain's yon?”—so said some wenches.
“Ladies,” quoth I, “men are not mete by inches:
The Macedonian monarch was call'd great,
Not from his bodies quantitie, but state
And martial prowesse; good ladies, then to heart you,
You shall well know that talenesse is no virtue.
Ætesiæ, sweetly breathing, cool the air;
Then coming to my cabin in a band,
Each man of us a gabion hints in hand,
Where me their serjeant-major they elected,
At my command that day to be directed,
“What pretty captain's yon?”—so said some wenches.
“Ladies,” quoth I, “men are not mete by inches:
The Macedonian monarch was call'd great,
Not from his bodies quantitie, but state
And martial prowesse; good ladies, then to heart you,
You shall well know that talenesse is no virtue.
Thus march we all along unto Moncrieff,
Where dwells that worthy knight, the famous chief
Of all that ancient name; and passing by
Three trees sprung out of one root we did espy,
Which when we did behold, said Master Gall,
“Monsieur, behold these trees, so great and tall,
Sprung of one root, which all men brethren name,
The symbol which true concord doth proclaim.”
Where dwells that worthy knight, the famous chief
Of all that ancient name; and passing by
Three trees sprung out of one root we did espy,
Which when we did behold, said Master Gall,
“Monsieur, behold these trees, so great and tall,
Sprung of one root, which all men brethren name,
The symbol which true concord doth proclaim.”
O happy presage, where such trees do grow,
These brethren three the threefold Gerion show,
Invincible, remaining in one mind,
Three hearts as in one body fast combined:
Scilurus bundle knit, doth whole abide,
But easily is broke when once untied;
So these three trees do symbolize most clearly
The amity of hearts and minds, inteirly
Kythes in that happy race, and doth presage
To it more happiness in after age;
Love's sweetest knot, which three in one doth bring
That budding gem shall make more flourishing;
Fair brethren trees, and sith so is your name,
Be still the badge of concord, and proclaim
All health and wealth unto that happy race
Where grace and virtue mutually embrace.
These brethren three the threefold Gerion show,
Invincible, remaining in one mind,
Three hearts as in one body fast combined:
Scilurus bundle knit, doth whole abide,
554
So these three trees do symbolize most clearly
The amity of hearts and minds, inteirly
Kythes in that happy race, and doth presage
To it more happiness in after age;
Love's sweetest knot, which three in one doth bring
That budding gem shall make more flourishing;
Fair brethren trees, and sith so is your name,
Be still the badge of concord, and proclaim
All health and wealth unto that happy race
Where grace and virtue mutually embrace.
To Moncrieff eastern, then to Wallace town,
To Fingask of Dundas; thence passing down
Unto the Rynd, as martial men we fare;—
What life man's heart could wish more void of care?
Passing the river Earn, on the other side,
Drilling our sojers, vulgars were afraid.
To Fingask of Dundas; thence passing down
Unto the Rynd, as martial men we fare;—
What life man's heart could wish more void of care?
Passing the river Earn, on the other side,
Drilling our sojers, vulgars were afraid.
Thence to the Picts' great metropolitan,
Where stands a steeple, the like in all Britain
Not to be found again—a work of wonder,
So tall and round in frame—a just cylinder;
Built by the Picts in honour of their king,
That of the Scots none should attempt such thing
As over his big belly to walk or ride,
But this strong hold should make him to abide,
Unless on Pegasus that he would flee,
Or on Jove's bird should soar into the sky,
As rode Bellerophon and Ganymede:
But mounted so must ride no giddy head.
Where stands a steeple, the like in all Britain
Not to be found again—a work of wonder,
So tall and round in frame—a just cylinder;
Built by the Picts in honour of their king,
That of the Scots none should attempt such thing
As over his big belly to walk or ride,
But this strong hold should make him to abide,
Unless on Pegasus that he would flee,
Or on Jove's bird should soar into the sky,
As rode Bellerophon and Ganymede:
But mounted so must ride no giddy head.
Thence we marched directly unto Dron,
And from that stead passed to the rocking-stone,
Accompanied with infantry a band;
Each of us had a hunting staff in hand,
With whistles shrill, the fleeing fowls to charm,
And fowlers nets upon our other arm:
But as for me about my neck was borne,
To sound the chase, a mighty hunting horn;
And as I blew with all my might and main,
The hollow rocks did answer make again;
Then every man in this clear company,
Who best should wind the horne began to try;
Among the rest a fellow in the rout
Boldy began to boast, and brave it out,
That he would wind the horn in such a wise,
That easily he would obtain the prize;
But to record what chance there followed after,
Gladly I would, but grief forbiddeth laughter,
For so it was the merry man was mar'd:
Both tongue and teeth, I wot, were tightly tar'd:
Then no more stay, fellow, good night, quod we;—
Th'old proverb says, Dirt parts company.
And from that stead passed to the rocking-stone,
Accompanied with infantry a band;
Each of us had a hunting staff in hand,
With whistles shrill, the fleeing fowls to charm,
And fowlers nets upon our other arm:
But as for me about my neck was borne,
To sound the chase, a mighty hunting horn;
And as I blew with all my might and main,
The hollow rocks did answer make again;
Then every man in this clear company,
Who best should wind the horne began to try;
Among the rest a fellow in the rout
Boldy began to boast, and brave it out,
That he would wind the horn in such a wise,
That easily he would obtain the prize;
But to record what chance there followed after,
Gladly I would, but grief forbiddeth laughter,
For so it was the merry man was mar'd:
Both tongue and teeth, I wot, were tightly tar'd:
555
Th'old proverb says, Dirt parts company.
By this we were just at the rocking-stone;
Amongst the world's great wonders it is one
Most rare—it is a Phœnix in its kind;
The like in all the world ye shall not find:
A stone so nicely set upon its kernels—
Not artificial, but natural kernels—
So huge, so great, that if you please to prove it,
A hundred yoke of oxen will not move it;
Yet touch it with your fingers smallest knocking,
Incontinent it will fall to a rocking,
And shake and shiver, as if obedient
More by request than by commandment.
Then up I clam this rock, as I was wonted,
And like Ægeon on whale's back I mounted,
And with Etites rattling stone I knocked,
And as I rattled, even so was I rocked;
So faire a cradle and rare was never seen;—
Oh! if my cabinet could it contain!
Amongst the world's great wonders it is one
Most rare—it is a Phœnix in its kind;
The like in all the world ye shall not find:
A stone so nicely set upon its kernels—
Not artificial, but natural kernels—
So huge, so great, that if you please to prove it,
A hundred yoke of oxen will not move it;
Yet touch it with your fingers smallest knocking,
Incontinent it will fall to a rocking,
And shake and shiver, as if obedient
More by request than by commandment.
Then up I clam this rock, as I was wonted,
And like Ægeon on whale's back I mounted,
And with Etites rattling stone I knocked,
And as I rattled, even so was I rocked;
So faire a cradle and rare was never seen;—
Oh! if my cabinet could it contain!
Next at the Bridge of Earn we made our station,
And there we took some little recreation;
Where in Heroick's Gall fell to declaring
All circumstances of that day's wayfaring;
And there so merrily we sung and chanted,
Happy were they our company who haunted;
Which when I call to mind it makes me cry—
“Gall, sweetest Gall, what ailed thee to die?”
And there we took some little recreation;
Where in Heroick's Gall fell to declaring
All circumstances of that day's wayfaring;
And there so merrily we sung and chanted,
Happy were they our company who haunted;
Which when I call to mind it makes me cry—
“Gall, sweetest Gall, what ailed thee to die?”
556
THE EIGHTH MUSE.
What blooming banks, sweet Earn, or fairest Tay,
Or Almond doth embrace! These many a day
We haunted, where our pleasant pastorals
We sweetly sung, and merry madrigals.
Sometime bold Mars, and sometimes Venus fair,
And sometimes Phœbus' love, we did declare;
Sometimes on pleasant plains, sometimes on mountains,
And sometimes sweetly sung beside the fountains.
Or Almond doth embrace! These many a day
We haunted, where our pleasant pastorals
We sweetly sung, and merry madrigals.
Sometime bold Mars, and sometimes Venus fair,
And sometimes Phœbus' love, we did declare;
Sometimes on pleasant plains, sometimes on mountains,
And sometimes sweetly sung beside the fountains.
But in these banks where flows St Conil's well,
The which Thessalian tempe doth excel,
Whose name and matchless fame for to declare
In this most doleful ditty must I spare;
Yet thus dare say that in the world again
No place more meet for muses to remain;
For shadowing walks, where silver brooks do spring,
And smelling arbors, where birds sweetly sing,
In heavenly music, warbling like Arion,
Like Thracian, Orpheus, Linus, or Amphion,
That Helicon, Parnasus, Pindus fair,
To these most pleasant banks scarce can compare:
These be the banks where all the muses dwell,
And haunt about that crystal brook and well;
Into these banks chiefly did we repair,
From sunshine shadowed, and from blasting air,
Where with the muses we did sing our song,
Sometimes for pleasure, sometimes for our wrong:
For in those days none durst approach their table
But we to taste their dainties;—this no fable.
The which Thessalian tempe doth excel,
Whose name and matchless fame for to declare
In this most doleful ditty must I spare;
Yet thus dare say that in the world again
No place more meet for muses to remain;
For shadowing walks, where silver brooks do spring,
And smelling arbors, where birds sweetly sing,
In heavenly music, warbling like Arion,
Like Thracian, Orpheus, Linus, or Amphion,
That Helicon, Parnasus, Pindus fair,
To these most pleasant banks scarce can compare:
These be the banks where all the muses dwell,
And haunt about that crystal brook and well;
Into these banks chiefly did we repair,
From sunshine shadowed, and from blasting air,
Where with the muses we did sing our song,
Sometimes for pleasure, sometimes for our wrong:
For in those days none durst approach their table
But we to taste their dainties;—this no fable.
From thence to Methven Wood we took our way,
Soon be Aurora fair did kythe the day;
And having rested there some little space,
Again we did betake us to our chace,
Raising the does and roes forth of their dens,
And watry fowls out of the marshy fens;
That if Diana had been in that place,
Would thought in hunting we had stained her grace.
Soon be Aurora fair did kythe the day;
And having rested there some little space,
Again we did betake us to our chace,
Raising the does and roes forth of their dens,
And watry fowls out of the marshy fens;
That if Diana had been in that place,
Would thought in hunting we had stained her grace.
To Methven Castle, where Gall did declare,
How Margarget Tudor, queen, sometimes dwelt there,
First daughter to King Henry seventh, who closes
York, Lancaster in one—England's two roses:
A happy union after long debate;
But union much more happy and more great;
Even by that same queen springs, and by her race,
Whereby all Britain joys long-wished peace;
Hence came King James his title to the crown
Of England, by both parents of renown;
Hence comes our happy peace: so be it aye
That peace with truth in Britain flourish may.
Right over to Forteviot did we hye,
And there the ruin'd castle did we spy
Of Malcolm Kenmure, whom Macduff, then Thane
Of Fife (so called), from England brought again,
And fiercely did pursue Tyrant Macbeth,
Usurper of the crown, even to the death;
Their castle's ruins when we did consider,
We saw that wasting time makes all things wither.
To Dupplin, then, and shades of Aberdalgie,
From thence to Mailer, and came home by Craigie;
Soon by that time, before three days were done,
We went to see the monuments of Scone;
As was our promise, Scone's nymphs see we must,
For in such vows we were exceeding just;
And there with Ovid thus did we declare,—
Here is a green, where stood a temple fair,
Where was the fatal chair and marble stone,
Having this motto rare inside thereon:
“This is the stone, if fates do not deceive,
Where'er its found the Scots shall kingdom have,”
Which Longshanks did transport to Troynovant,
As Troy took in the horse by Græcia sent;
So we who sprung were of the Grecian crew,
Like stratagem on Trojans did renew.
Oh! if this fatal chair transported were
To Spain, that we like conquest might have there;
From thence to Italy, to Rome, to Greece,
To Colchos, thence to bring the golden fleece;
And, in a word, we wish this happy chair
Unto the furthest Indies transported were,
That mightiest kingdoms might their presents bring,
And bow to Charles as to their sovereign king.
How Margarget Tudor, queen, sometimes dwelt there,
First daughter to King Henry seventh, who closes
York, Lancaster in one—England's two roses:
557
But union much more happy and more great;
Even by that same queen springs, and by her race,
Whereby all Britain joys long-wished peace;
Hence came King James his title to the crown
Of England, by both parents of renown;
Hence comes our happy peace: so be it aye
That peace with truth in Britain flourish may.
Right over to Forteviot did we hye,
And there the ruin'd castle did we spy
Of Malcolm Kenmure, whom Macduff, then Thane
Of Fife (so called), from England brought again,
And fiercely did pursue Tyrant Macbeth,
Usurper of the crown, even to the death;
Their castle's ruins when we did consider,
We saw that wasting time makes all things wither.
To Dupplin, then, and shades of Aberdalgie,
From thence to Mailer, and came home by Craigie;
Soon by that time, before three days were done,
We went to see the monuments of Scone;
As was our promise, Scone's nymphs see we must,
For in such vows we were exceeding just;
And there with Ovid thus did we declare,—
Here is a green, where stood a temple fair,
Where was the fatal chair and marble stone,
Having this motto rare inside thereon:
“This is the stone, if fates do not deceive,
Where'er its found the Scots shall kingdom have,”
Which Longshanks did transport to Troynovant,
As Troy took in the horse by Græcia sent;
So we who sprung were of the Grecian crew,
Like stratagem on Trojans did renew.
Oh! if this fatal chair transported were
To Spain, that we like conquest might have there;
From thence to Italy, to Rome, to Greece,
To Colchos, thence to bring the golden fleece;
And, in a word, we wish this happy chair
Unto the furthest Indies transported were,
That mightiest kingdoms might their presents bring,
And bow to Charles as to their sovereign king.
Nearby we view that famous earthen mount,
Whereon our kings to crowned be were wont:
And while we do consider there we found,
Demonstrate was the quadrate of the round;
Which Euclid could not find nor Pater Erra,
By guess we did it find on Omnis Terra;
And if you geometers hereof do doubt,
Come view the place and ye shall find it out;
A demonstration so wondrous rare,
In all the world I think none may compare:
Thence need we must go see the Muir of Scone,
And view where Picts were utterly undone
By valiant Scots, and brought to desolation,
That since they never had the name of nation;
Seven times that fight renewed was in one day—
Picts seven times quell'd—Scots were victorious aye;
Hence it is said, when men shall be undone,
We shall upon them bring the Muir of Scone;
King Donskine, with his remnant Picts, near Tay
All killed, did crown the victory of that day;
Then valiant Kenneth went to Camelon,
And threw to earth King Donskine's ancient throne:
So greatest kingdoms to their periods tend,
And everything that grows must have an end;
Where is that golden head that reigned so long?—
The silver arms and belly of brass most strong,
The iron legs, divided now in toes,
Are mixed with clay, and so the world it goes:
Thus nations, like to stars in multitude,
Like sand on shore, or fishes in the flood:
Yea, rooted in the earth so deep, so long,
As on the mountains grow the cedars strong;
Yet time hath overturned them, and their names
Are past, as letters written on the streams;
To tell us here we have no constant biding,
The world unto decay is always sliding;
One kingdom ever doth remain, and all
'Gainst it who rise to powder turn they shall.
Near this we did perceive where proud Macbeth,
(Who to the furies did his soul bequeath)
His castle mounted on Dunsinane hill,
Causing the mightiest peers obey his will,
And bow their necks to build his Babylon;
Thus, Nimrod-like, he did triumph upon
That mountain which doth overtop that plain,
And as the starrie heaven he should attain
A lofty tower, and Atlas caused build,
Then tyrannising, rag'd as Nimrod wild;
Who had this strange response: that none should catch him
That born was of woman, or should match him,
Nor any horse should overtake him there;
But yet his spirit deceived him by a mare,
And by a man, was not of woman born:
For brave Macduff was from his mother shorn;
Macduff, call'd Thane of Fife, who home did bring
King Malcolm Kenmure, was our native king,
Kenmure great head—a great head should be wise,
To bring to nought a Nimrod's enterprise;
Up to Duusinane's top then did we climb,
With panting heart, weak loins, and wearied limb,
And from the mountain height, which was well windy,
We spy where Wallace's cave was at Kilspindie;
But there we might not stay: thence to the plain
With swifter pace we do come down again;
Descent is easy any man can tell,
For men do easily descend to hell.
Whereon our kings to crowned be were wont:
558
Demonstrate was the quadrate of the round;
Which Euclid could not find nor Pater Erra,
By guess we did it find on Omnis Terra;
And if you geometers hereof do doubt,
Come view the place and ye shall find it out;
A demonstration so wondrous rare,
In all the world I think none may compare:
Thence need we must go see the Muir of Scone,
And view where Picts were utterly undone
By valiant Scots, and brought to desolation,
That since they never had the name of nation;
Seven times that fight renewed was in one day—
Picts seven times quell'd—Scots were victorious aye;
Hence it is said, when men shall be undone,
We shall upon them bring the Muir of Scone;
King Donskine, with his remnant Picts, near Tay
All killed, did crown the victory of that day;
Then valiant Kenneth went to Camelon,
And threw to earth King Donskine's ancient throne:
So greatest kingdoms to their periods tend,
And everything that grows must have an end;
Where is that golden head that reigned so long?—
The silver arms and belly of brass most strong,
The iron legs, divided now in toes,
Are mixed with clay, and so the world it goes:
Thus nations, like to stars in multitude,
Like sand on shore, or fishes in the flood:
Yea, rooted in the earth so deep, so long,
As on the mountains grow the cedars strong;
Yet time hath overturned them, and their names
Are past, as letters written on the streams;
To tell us here we have no constant biding,
The world unto decay is always sliding;
One kingdom ever doth remain, and all
'Gainst it who rise to powder turn they shall.
Near this we did perceive where proud Macbeth,
(Who to the furies did his soul bequeath)
His castle mounted on Dunsinane hill,
Causing the mightiest peers obey his will,
And bow their necks to build his Babylon;
Thus, Nimrod-like, he did triumph upon
That mountain which doth overtop that plain,
And as the starrie heaven he should attain
A lofty tower, and Atlas caused build,
Then tyrannising, rag'd as Nimrod wild;
559
That born was of woman, or should match him,
Nor any horse should overtake him there;
But yet his spirit deceived him by a mare,
And by a man, was not of woman born:
For brave Macduff was from his mother shorn;
Macduff, call'd Thane of Fife, who home did bring
King Malcolm Kenmure, was our native king,
Kenmure great head—a great head should be wise,
To bring to nought a Nimrod's enterprise;
Up to Duusinane's top then did we climb,
With panting heart, weak loins, and wearied limb,
And from the mountain height, which was well windy,
We spy where Wallace's cave was at Kilspindie;
But there we might not stay: thence to the plain
With swifter pace we do come down again;
Descent is easy any man can tell,
For men do easily descend to hell.
When we had viewed these fields both here and there,
As wearied pilgrims 'gan we home to fair;
Home! happy is that word,—at home in heaven,
Where Gall now rests above the planets seven,
And I am left this wretched earth upon,
Thy loss with all my gabions to bemoan;
Thence mourn with me, my gabions, and cry—
“Gall, sweetest Gall, what ailed thee to die?”
As wearied pilgrims 'gan we home to fair;
Home! happy is that word,—at home in heaven,
Where Gall now rests above the planets seven,
And I am left this wretched earth upon,
Thy loss with all my gabions to bemoan;
Thence mourn with me, my gabions, and cry—
“Gall, sweetest Gall, what ailed thee to die?”
560
THE NINTH MUSE.
What could there more be done, let any say,Nor I did to prevent the doleful day?
For when I saw Gall's fatal constellation
Would not permit him in this earthly station
Long to abide, then did I give a trial,
To make impartial fate sustain denial,
By herbarizing, while I proved my skill
On top of Law Tay, and stay Moore-downe hill,
Collecting vegetables in these parts,
By all the skill of Appolonian arts,
If possible 't had been fate to neglect him,
By heavenly skill immortal for to make him;
But sith that Phœbus could not stem the blood
Of Hyacinthus in his swooning mood,
How then should I, a mortal—ah! too shallow
In wit and art!—press to outreach Appollo?—
Far be the thought; I therefore must absent me,
And never more unto the world present me;
But solitary with my gabions stay,
And help them for to mourn till dying day!
Then farewell, cabin! farewell, Gabions all!
Then must I meet in heaven with Master Gall;
And till that time I will set forth his praise
In elegies of woe and mourning lays;
And weeping for his sake, still will I cry—
“Gall, sweetest Gall, what ailed thee to die?”
FINIS.
| Muses threnodie | |