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 the very Honourable, and right Worshipful generous
Gentleman, John Riddel of Haining,
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 | A True History Of several Honourable Families of the Right Honourable Name of Scot |  |
Dedicated to the very Honourable, and right Worshipful generous Gentleman, John Riddel of Haining,
Sherif-principal of the Sherifdom of Selkirk, and Provost of that Burgh-Royall.
I humbly wish peace, truth, and constancy,Remain with you and your worthy Family,
That Sailer gains renown that well does know,
To gain his point either at ebb or flow,
When Boreas dust doeth drive thee from the Land,
Then Æolus blasts puts thee in Neptuns hand;
To wonder and admire is all one thing,
As Synonymies the word betake,
But if a double meaning from them come,
For double sense your judgement then must look,
As once a man all foul'd with dirt and myre,
Fell down and wondred not, but did admire;
To you whose ears, and eyes have heard and seen,
This litle Pamphlet, and can judge between,
That which is good, tolerable, or ill,
May be with Artless nature wanting skill:
Have I writ ought that may your hearts content,
My Muse hath then accomplish't her intent,
Your favour can preserve me, but your frown,
My poor inventions in oblivion drown,
With tolerable friendship let me crave,
You will not seek to spill what you may save.
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He doth me much deride,
The Webster and the Smith,
They shake their brainless head,
And sayes my Education, or my State,
Doth make my Verse esteem'd at lower rate;
To such as those this answer I do send,
And bid them mend before they discommend,
Their Envy unto me will Favours prove,
The hatred of fools breeds wise mens Love;
My Muse is Jocund, that her Labours merits,
To be malign'd and scorn'd by envyous carriage;
This humbly I beg pardon of the best,
Which being granted, Sir, a reverence for the rest,
Why should they vex in their malicious brain,
For I have done no wrong to you nor them,
A greedy wretch did on the Scripture look,
Found it recorded in the Sacred Book,
How such a man with God should sure prevail,
Who clad the naked, and visited them in Joal,
And their he found how he had long mistaked,
And oftentimes had made the cloathed naked,
In stead of visiting the opprest in moans,
He had consum'd them to the very bones;
Yet one day he at leasure would repent,
But sudden death repentance did prevent;
Then he was dead, and laid into his Tomb,
In hopes repentance from Purgatory come,
There lay the Stuart of the valiant ten,
Who, whilst on life his beloved life remain'd,
Apollos Daughter, and the Heirs of Jove,
The memorable bounty did approve;
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Bereaved the Muses of Celestial Breath,
Had Phœbus fir'd him from the lofty skies,
That Phenix-like another might arise,
From out of his odoriferous sacred Embers,
His loved life the Country still remembers,
Amongst a million there is hardly any,
That like your self, so well can govern many.
Now I think well I will reveal;
My Dream I must proclaim,
And dedicat unto your hands, my honest Shepherds Swain,
That mirrily upon the plain doth sing with joking lees,
His Shepherdess she does not miss, to crown his head with bayes;
Love, Bounty, Valour, Charity with Shepherds did remain,
It's Kings and Emperors liberty to be a Shepherds Swain,
In Meadows green where flowers do spring
There they do feed their flocks,
Sometimes on Mountains and on Hills,
Sometimes amongst the Rocks,
Their worthy generosity to Love is a strong fort,
With triumph doth that trumpet sound,
At the Shepherd Swains port,
The best of men are Shepherd Swains,
As I before design'd,
The Eastern-coasts did brag and boast,
Of their brave Shepherds Swain;
George Currors then a Shepherd Swain,
That gains both Corn and Store,
And doth afford both Bed and Board,
And much relieves the poor;
In Hart-wood-myres his Barns and Byres,
And Shepherds do remain,
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Upon the morning due;
And when bright Phœbus takes her Coatch,
They are in Hainings view,
Of that Shepherds truth I cannot dyte enough,
But now I'm run ashore;
For Shepherds Swains, their Ewes and Lambs,
I have spoken much before,
Though Jason fetcht his Fleece from Greece,
And was call'd the Golden Swain,
George Curror that dwells in Hart-wood-myres,
For Wool more guilt doth gain.
| A True History Of several Honourable Families of the Right Honourable Name of Scot | |