A True History Of several Honourable Families of the Right Honourable Name of Scot In the Shires of Roxburgh and Selkirk, and others adjacent. Gathered out of Ancient Chronicles, Histories, and Traditions of our Fathers. By Capt. Walter Scot, An old Souldier, and no Scholler, And one that can Write nane, But just the Letters of his Name |
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Dedicated to that Worthy and Generous Gentleman, Robert Elliot
Laird of Midliemill.
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 | A True History Of several Honourable Families of the Right Honourable Name of Scot |  |
Dedicated to that Worthy and Generous Gentleman, Robert Elliot Laird of Midliemill.
Sir, in my Sleep I was much troubled,And dream'd of Henry Elliot of Harewood,
'Mongst many more that I thought I saw,
And knowing he was your Father in Law,
Therefore my weak Judgment thought it fit,
Those Lines to you that I should dedicat;
Knowing him to be a worthy man,
And much honour'd by your Generation;
Though all in one ye now joined be,
Yet ye're a Peer grew higher on the Tree;
For I believe there is so much odds,
Few Elliots compar'd with the House of Stobs;
For Heav'ns high-hand where he doth please to bless,
Makes Trees, or Men, fruitful, or fruitless;
In sundrie uses Trees do serve mens turn,
To build, adorn, to feed, or else to burn;
This is mens State in all degrees like theirs,
Some are got to the top of Honours Stairs.
Securely sleeping on Opinions Pillow,
Yet is as fruitless as the fruitless Willow,
And fill up room, like worthless Trees in Woods,
Whose goodness consists all in ill got Goods,
He like a Cedar makes a goodlie show,
But now good Fruit will from his greatness grow,
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And then gives all away in the spight of his Heart,
Then shall his Friends with Mourning-cloaths be clad,
The in-side merry, and the out-side sad;
He thinks his life Angelical, because
Among the Angels he his time doth pass;
And with his Nobles he ordaineth Laws,
That base Extortion shall not be a Crime,
He marks how Kingdoms, Provinces and Towns,
Are over-ruled by his cursed Crowns,
But if he note his Angels what to be,
Not heavenlie, nor these from Heaven that fell,
But they are in a third and worse degree,
Damn'd sensless Monsters, even that are of Hell,
They cannot hear, feel, taste, hear, nor smell,
A thousand times being told yet cannot tell,
They're lock'd and barr'd and bolted up in thrall,
Which shews their nature not Angelical,
Thy industrious Loyalty doth daily tell,
Thou aims at Honour, and thou levels well,
And with your trusty Service shot compleat,
That in the end ye sure will hit the VVhyte;
Thus thy Industries doth let the VVorld ken,
That Jasons Golden Fleece with thee shall still remain.
| A True History Of several Honourable Families of the Right Honourable Name of Scot | |