To the Memory of the right Honourable, Sir John Nisbet of Dirletoun His Majesties Advocat, and one of the Senators of the Colledge of Justice; who departed this Life at Edinburgh, April 9. 1688. A Funeral Elegie [by Ninian Paterson] |
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 | To the Memory of the right Honourable, Sir John Nisbet of Dirletoun |  |
To the Memory of the right Honourable, SIR JOHN NISBET OF DIRLETOUN,
His Majesties Advocat, and one of the Senators of the Colledge of Justice; Who departed this Life at Edinburgh, April 9. 1688.
A FUNERAL ELEGIE.
Swift-winged Time, whose whirling Wheel doth play,In things below, with an unconstant sway;
Thou Saturn-like devours (what thou brought forth)
Each day some Object of the rarest worth.
Thou minut of change, whose meanest minutes, all,
Nor Power, nor Policie could yet recal:
Else Dirletoun's Great Soul, need not bequeath
His body, as a Legacie to Death.
A Soul in all ingenious Learning skil'd,
With the substantial, precious Treasures fill'd
Of Vertue, and of Learning, which did draw
All men to Stile him Atlas of the Law,
And Minion of the Muses, understood.
A Star i'the House of the first Magnitude
His Birth was both much honoured, and Hy,
Descended of an antient Family,
But his great Parts, his Birth they far out-shin'd,
For Phœbus had his Oracles resign'd
To him, as Monarch of triumphant Wit,
Who rul'd the impartial Bench, as he thought fit:
And made it so; by dis-intangling Laws,
With Aradnaes Threed, in every Cause.
When Advocat, his Eloquence did Ty,
In Chains all Ears, with charming Melody.
When Commissar, all his Decreets they were
Impartial, Learned, never too severe.
The Beauteous Astrea, could not have,
A Judge more uncorrupted, awfull, Grave.
He, and he only, ne'r deserv'd a Grudge,
When Commissar, or Advocat, or Judge.
Belov'd in each degree, to Great, or Smal
Accessible, and open unto all.
It's Love, wins Love, this was it made him Great,
In Fame, and Freindship, Favour, and Estate.
Hence like an Attalus, his Wealth arose
To heaps, on heaps; as Samson slew his foes.
Yet his Example made all men confess,
We Riches without Riot may possess,
And plenty without scornful Pride, for he
Was proud of nothing, but Humilitie.
His Reason swayd his Sense, his Will his Wit,
And Heart, and Hand were plyant unto it.
These did his Motions guide in all Affairs
Counsel'd his Counsels, qualified his Cares.
That like to Nicodemus we might see
A Lawer might a good, and just man be:
He their reproach dispell'd; but being lost,
Scarce such another Lawer we can boast,
For Justice did not only dwell in's Breast,
But shew'd her self triumphant on his Crest.
This, that all men might righteousness imbrace
His Practice, Precept, and his Motto was.
That the whole World might see the unbribed Maid
His Mistress, on his Coat of Armes displaid,
To think that one is dead, so great, so good,
It were enough to bring a second Flood.
The World is grown so bad, that he did see
No freedom here, but in eternitie.
Dust, goes to Dust; the Soul to God that gave it,
Who through the merits of his Son will save it.
Until that when the great last Trumpt's blown,
The Heaven, and Earth, will both give up their own.
Utamur divitii, non gloriemur in illis, sed utamur
parce tanquam depositis ap ud nos:
Seneca.
Indemnis proprium servat sapientia censum,
nec gula quæsitas laxa vorabit opes.
Tanquam, jam partis moritu us utere rebus.
tanquam victurus, denuo parce tuis.
N. Paterson.
| To the Memory of the right Honourable, Sir John Nisbet of Dirletoun | |