University of Virginia Library

The Funeral Elegie.

My Muse hath practis'd lighter grieft, but She
Hath hardly strength for such a Tragedie;
The death of Moristoun's enough to make
Th'amazed Rafters of the Sky to shake.
Great Atlas of the Nations Fame! his Fate,
Too glorious is for dregs of Wit to Rate.
I would require some high victorious Rime
For to revenge his Death, and conquer Time;
But yet we're not surpriz'd, sad news as these
Would still get leave to sink in by degrees.
[illeg.]me conquers grief, and makes it melt away,
As Ice before the Suns dissolving Ray:
Then may we fill the mouth of Fame with Verse,
And pour a Box of Spiknard on his Hearse;
Though now remote from us (blest Fate!) lest we
Might with his Dust commit Idolatrie:
That Saint and Martyr Moristoun! whose Breast
Heroick Valiant Courage, so possest,
Himself a Sacrifice for to afford,
To avenge th'affronts of his blasphemed Lord;
No greater Christian Honour, than t'oppose,
With lifes expence our Saviours spiteful foes.
On Earth this is the Flow'r of all Renown,
And surest Title to th'eternal Crown:
He is with glorious name of Martyr blest,
Who with his Blood doth Seal the Truths of Christ;
With other Foes about the Bounds we fight
[illeg.]re for the whole Possession and it's Right.
For CHRIST and Mahumet (we may be bold
To affirm) that Heav'n together cannot hold.
When blest is he whom love of Jesus draws,
{Will} lay his life down in so good a cause
Or whoso gives his Bread unto the Poor,
[illeg.] in his Members feeds his Saviour:
But he who gives Himself, his Life and Blood,
In greater Sacrifice could give to God,
Nor richer Purchase ever [illeg.]
Either for Honour, or for Happiness,
And this is properly our Sauiours mind,
He that thus loseth life, his life shall find.
He who for Christ darr tread the Paths that lead
To the dark pensive Regions of the dead.
He by his Word, th'eternal Crown shall wear,
That's more beset with Pearl, than stuft with care.
The light afflictions which he here endur'd,
For more excelling glorious weights afford.
Write them down blessed, said the Heav'nly voice,
No Men like them, of all they are the choise.
In Ecclesiastick History we read,
One Martyr still th'way to another led;
Great is th'attractive pow'r, example hath,
St. Alban turn'd his Heads-man to the Faith,
And to Gods Heav'nly Kingdom brought him on,
Through Martyrdom a stout Companion.
Sixtus the Second, did St. Lawrence turn,
And he Romanus; for that Faith to burn
They lately persecuted, so doth rise
Another Phœnix from the Bed of Spice,
And precious Odoriferous perfume
Which both at once renews and doth consume
She her own happy Heir; what ruins all,
Adds strength to her, restor'd by Funeral.
So surely his example will enflame,
[illeg.] to signalize their Fame:
No greater comfort to his Friends can come,
Then to believe he suffered Martyrdom.
These truly are the Battels of the Lord,
That Heav'n [illeg.] Honour both at once afford,
While others spend their [illeg.] with Packs of Hounds
About their hardly unmorgaged Grounds
And of Repentance never have a thought,
(The dearest Penny-worth was ever bought;)
[illeg.] Devotion till that Mellow years
Hath interwoven Snow amongst their Hairs.
Our Heros, whose wise greater Soul did train
More nobly sparkling Blood through ev'ry Vein
Durst generously Exile himself from home,
T'embalm his glorious Fame with Martyrdome.
Who had at Luxenburgh, and Vienna too,
Withstood the worst Falshood or Rage could do:
To give to all the World a proof, that he
Had to degenerous fear Antipathie.
Nor Friends, nor Parents Pray'rs, nor Tears, could damp
His Resolutions for this fatal Camp:
That from his Chief and him, in Peace and War,
Scotland might Honour gain from Name of KER,
And he his Family might Signalize
With this Heroick Christian enterprize,
And all might in a Sainted Rubrick read,
Since the brave MORISTOUN at Buda dy'd;
A Youth of Myriads, yet did despise
The World, and did not say, Soul take thy ease,
But had a holy passionat desire,
Elias-like, to go to Heav'n with Fire:
Fighting against base Infidels, and worse,
Who what they got by fraud, defends by force.
The Actors greatness wrongs sometimes digests,
What horrid shame, Men worried [illeg.] with Beasts?
The scourge of Christendome, the [illeg.] of Hell,
Whether from Jew or Pagan, none can tell;
But this is sure, all Mahumet [illeg.]
A Thief, a Murderer, Adulterer
He was (who wrot his life, they [illeg.]
A nastie sink of sin and wickedness:
His very Laws, in stead of good and just,
Smells nothing but of Rancor and [illeg.]
This is the Antichrist, whose whole [illeg.]
To wallow in the Blood of innocents,
And night and day like Devils doth imploy
Himself, both Souls and Bodies to destroy.
Shall Christians suffer that Ignoble Slave
Thus to possess their Lord's and Saviour's Grave?
That Monster vile, that knows no other Lord
But Rapine, and a Bloody Brandish'd Sword.
Buda is won, there rests for to o'recome
But only Belgrad and Bysantium:
Whereof of each, such a triumphant Foil,
Will load you all with Honour and with Spoil,
May this a Flame to holy Zeal afford;
T'assist the Conquests of great Lorains Sword:
And may that Conquering Blade no measure know,
Untill th'insulting Sultan be brought low.
It's Prophesi'd, that his last time is come,
He well may flee, but not out-flee his doom
Whe[illeg.] have set a bounds unto his Rage,
This shall be call'd, The memorable Age.
If ye do not (as God forbid) o'recome;
Ye'll win the glorious Crown of Martyrdome.
Had all undaunted Hearts like MORISTOUN,
Triumphs and Trophies both would be your own.

His Epitaph.

Here lyes the Glory of his [illeg.] and Race,
Who Sacrific'd his Life for Christian Peace,
Whose Gallant and Merit shall Renown.
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