University of Virginia Library

CHAP XIV.

Poor Scotland yet did sigh and moan,
Because her suff'rings were not gone,
A time of trial for her deeds,
Where many lost their hearts and heads.
The mildest was Kensington muir,
Not far from London to be sure,
Seventeen officers by the neck
Were hung like dogs, without respect:
No clergy benefit, or Psalms at a',
Cheer'd by the mob with loud huzza:
Elev'n at York, shar'd the same fate:
Seven at Penrith, thus too were treat:
Six at Brampton likewise fell:
And nine were butcher'd at Carlisle:
Many were sent to the Plantations,
To live among the savage nations,
Which indeed was a milder act,
Than what is in the following tract,
Of these poor souls at Carlisle,

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Whose execution was so vile,
A wooden stage they did erect,
And first, half strangl'd by the neck,
A fire upon the stage was born,
Their hearts out of their breasts were torn
The privy part unspared was,
Cut off, and dash'd into their face,
Then expanded into the fire;
But such a sight I'll ne'er desire,
Some beholders swooned away,
Others stood mute, had nought to say,
And some of a more brutish nature,
Did shout Huzza, to seal the matter,
Some a mourning turn'd about
A praying for their souls, no doubt,
Some curs'd the butcher, Haxam Willie,
Who without remorse used his gullie,
And for the same a pension got,
Thus butchering the Rebel Scot.
God keep all foes, and friends of mine,
From death of such a cruel kind:
It did fulfil an English law;
But such a sight I never saw.
O! may it ever a warning be,
From rebellious mobs, to keep us free!
My dear Scots-men, a warning take,
Superior pow'rs not to forsake,
Mind the Apostle's words, of law and love,
Saying, All power is giv'n from above.
'Tis by will of heav'n kings do reign,
The chain of Fate's not rul'd by men.
Every thing must serve its time,
And so have kings of Stewart's line.
Methinks they're fools, whate'er they be,
Who draw their sword to stick the sea,
Or call upon the wind to bide,
Think not that strength will turn the tide;

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Though praying made the sun to stand,
When help'd by an Almighty hand:
All those who fight without offence,
Get but a dreadful recompence:
And those who trust in France or Spain,
Are fools if e'er they do't again:
Witness poor Charlie and the Scots,
What have they got, but bloody throats?
Charlie's from France banish'd, like a thief,
A poor reward for his toil and grief.
Poor simple Charles they have thee tricked,
Thy wage is almost like the wicked.

Now the trials were brought on,
Of the Chiefs who had with Charlie gone,
My lord Kilmarnock and Cromartie,
In Westminster-Hall judged to be,
Lord Lovat and Balmerino,
One Mr. Ratcliff indicted also
Before their peers, for high treason,
Were to the bar brought, one by one,
Lord Kilmarnock did first appear,
Who humbly own'd his guilt was clear,
Confess'd his folly, and heinousness,
How obnoxious to punishment he was.
For offences of so deep a dye,
Begg'd they'd interceed with's Majesty,
That the unshaken fidelitie
Of's ancestors should remembred be,
His father having been a steady one,
In promoting the Revolution,
Took active measures to secure
The protestant succession to endure,
Which keeps the kingdoms quiet and firm,
From arbitrary and Popish harm:
This was well known for certain truth.
His own ev'ry action from his youth,
Upon the strictest enquiry

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Was a course of firmest loyalty,
Until that very unhappy time,
He was seduc'd with them to join,
Soon after the battle of Preston,
He by flatt'ry was prevail'd upon:
That he bought no arms, listed no men,
Persuaded none to join that train:
He endeavour'd their rage to moderate,
For sick and wounded med'cines gat,
And for prisoners begg'd lenity,
This many a soldier could testify.
That for his error he had feel'd smart,
With pining grief and aching heart;
Ev'n at Culloden, chus'd not to fly,
But rather among the slain to ly:
He wish'd Providence had aim'd a shot,
That there to fall might been his lot,
Ere he'd flee to foreign power for aid:
No, that he never wou'd, he said:
If he did so, conscience would tell,
'Twas continuing in Rebellion still:
He had seen a letter from the French court,
The British Sovereign to exhort,
In what a manner he should deal
With such subjects as did rebel.
But he abhorr'd the mediation
Of any foreign intercession;
'Pon his Majesty's great clemency,
For sacred mercy I rely,
And if no favour's to me shown,
With resignation, I'll lay down,
My head upon the fatal block,
For to receive the dreadful stroke,
With my very last breath fervently pray,
That th'illustr'ous house of Hanover may,
In peace and prosperity ever shine,
And Britain rule, to th'end of time.

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The earl of Cromartie came next,
While all their eyes were on him fixt,
He begg'd their lordships for to hear,
How ungrateful guilt brought him there,
Which justly merited indignation,
Of his Majesty, and all the nation.
The treasonable offence, said he,
He'd ne'er attempt to justifie,
His plea did on their compassion ly,
And his Majesty's royal clemency:
Appeal'd to his conduct in time bygone,
Ere that unhappy Rebellion.
Witness the commander at Inverness,
And the lord President Forbes,
Who knew his acts and loyal ways,
Till seduc'd by designing phrase:
His awful remorse, made him to fret
Severely now, Alas! too late,
Life and fortune valu'd not at all,
But his loving wife, now drown'd in gall,
With a babe unborn, of children eight,
All brought to a most mournful plight,
His eldest son with these must drie
The penalties of his miserie,
“Let these Objects of mercy be
“Known to his most gracious Majestie,
“Let innocent children now produce
“Bowels of pity in this house,
“As men of honour be men of feeling,
“My griefs to you needs no revealing.”
He pled his blood might quench his crime,
That their inn'cence should be kept in mind,
That those to mis'ry should not be brought,
Who of his guilt had never thought:
Since public justice would not let pass
From him that cup of bitterness,
Desir'd their Lordships to go on,

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And said, The will of God be done.

Then Balmerino next came on,
Who, as friend or foe, regarded none;
But star'd about, and look'd as bold,
As he had been judge, that court to hold,
And 'gainst them mov'd a point of law,
His indictment was not worth a straw,
As being in the county of Surry founded,
For acts of treason in Scotland grounded:
Therefore should be in Scotland try'd;
But this the House of Lords deny'd,
And said, The British Parliament
Rul'd over all the king's extent:
Therefore he's forc'd to wave his plea;
But not a fig regarded he,
As mercy he scorn'd for to crave.
Then all three sentence did receive,
“To be beheaded on Tower-hill,
(A humble bow they gave there-till,)
“On the eighteenth August, Forty-Six,
“Their heads be sever'd by an ax,
“Quite from their bodies, on open stage,
“To lose both life and heritage,
“Their estates forfeit to the crown.”
Which makes the babes unborn frown
And parents folly to lament.
So to the Tow'r they all were sent,
For to prepare for their exit,
And with a greater Judge to meet.
Kilmarnock was as a Christian mov'd,
The time though short he well improv'd.
Balmerino took little thought,
As by the Sacrament all was bought,
And the externals of the book,
His persuasion did no farther look.
When the Dead-warrant was to him sent,
To Cromartie they did present

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A remit for life and libertie;
But the other two Lords were to die.
While Balmerino at dinner sat,
The tidings came, how, and what
Was to be done on the next day,
His lady rose and swoon'd away;
He rose from's chair, says, You're distracted,
It is no more than I expected,
Sit down, my lady, and did constrain her,
It shall not make me lose my dinner,
I know we all were born to die,
From death at last, where can we flee?
By his mild words she kept her seat;
But ne'er a bit at all could eat.
He took the Sacrament, they say,
After th'Episcopalian way,
With a Roman courage and resolution,
Boldly waited his dissolution,
And of his fate oft made a jest,
Which to English eyes wou'd be a feast.
He often walked without his coat
With shirt open about his throat,
One of his friends unto him told,
He'd wrong his health by getting cold,
To which he answered again,
The lease of it was near an end,
'Twas the height of folly to repair,
For all the time it had to wear.

On the next day, the stage being erect,
All rail'd about and hung with black,
A thousand foot-guards march'd theretil,
And form'd betwixt the Tow'r and hill.
The stage within the line enclos'd,
A full free passage so compos'd,
The horse Grenadiers posted without,
As to awe the crowd they were more stout,
Thus was it fixt right near until

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The Transport-office at Tow'r-hill,
Which, that day, was hir'd for reception,
Until they went to execution.

Gulielmus Comes de Kilmarnock, Decollatus 18 mo. Augusti, Anno Dom, M, DCC, XLVI. Aetat. Suae, XLII.

Arthurus Dominus de Balmerino, Decollatus 18 mo. Augusti, Anno Dom, M, DCC, XLVI. Aetat. Suae LVIII.

Then after ten, near half an hour,
The two Sheriffs went to the Tow'r,
Knock'd at the gate, the Porter cry'd,
What do you want? They then reply'd,
The bodies of these Lords two.
Kilmarnock and Balmerino.
The Lieutenants and his Wardens brought
These two Lords for whom they sought,

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And got receipts for each of them,
As usual is to give the same.

Unto the tavern first they went,
Where some time in devotion spent,
And taking of their friends farewel
Tears did anguish and grief reveal:
As to the tavern they did go,
Some ask'd, Which is Balmerino?
He turn'd about and smiling says,
I'm Balmerino, if you please.
In the inn they're put in sep'rate rooms,
Where mourning was, and heavy moans.
Then Balmerino he did require
A conference with Kilmarnock there.
Then said, “My Lord, before we go,

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“One thing of you I want to know,
“That of it the world we may convince;
“Heard you of orders from our Prince,
“If we had Culloden battle won,
“That quarters should be giv'n to none?”
To which Kilmarnock answer'd, NO;
NOR I, Sir; cry'd Balmerino,
“It seems this on invention borders,
“To justify this way of murders.”
“No, said the Earl, “by inference just,
“To tell the truth, for so we must,
“While prisoners at Inverness,
“I heard some officers express,
“That an order was sign'd by George Murray
“Of such a nature as what you say,
“That's Grace the Duke had it to show:
“More of the matter I do not know.”
“If Murray (said he) did the same,
“Why did they give the Prince the blame?”
And then a final farewel took,
And parted with a mournful look,
“I'm sorry (he cry'd) as he was gone,
“That I cannot pay this score alone,”
Then turning round upon his heel,
For time, my friend, For ay farewel.

Kilmarnock some time in pray'r spent,
While tears did flow from all present,
Then took a glass to cool his heart,
Before he did the room depart.
The warrand him mention'd first to go,
And being inform'd it must be so,
Then to the stage he did approach,
Seeing the hearse, coffins, mourning coach,
The dreadful block, edg'd instrument,
With the executioner and crowd's lament,
He paus'd a while, and thus said he,
O Hume, 'tis terrible this to me!

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His pale countenance, contrite demure,
Did pity from all around procure,
Being tall and graceful, cloth'd in black,
In a praying posture, mildly spake,
Which did the multitude surprize,
While brinish tears showr'd from their eyes,
And many said, He's dying well,
Howe'er he liv'd we cannot tell.
The head cutter first took a glass,
Then came to ask him forgiv'ness;
Yet drink did not quite drown his fears,
At the awful scene he burst in tears:
But the Earl bade him not be afraid,
As it must be done by some, he said,
Gave him five guineas in a purse,
And bade him strike without remorse,
When I let my handkerchief fall,
Do you proceed by that signal.
With eyes and hands lift up in pray'r,
Most earnestly he did require,
The pray'rs of's greatest enemie,
And all the crowd around that be,
In the fatal moment of exit,
That Jesus might receive his sp'rit,
Pray'd for King George most fervently,
And bless'd his royal Family.
As he promis'd to do at his end,
Upon that day he was condemn'd.

Then for the block he did prepare,
His gentleman ty'd up his hair,
Took off the bag and the big coat,
His neck made bare all 'round the throat,
On a black cushion he kneel'd down,
While friends stood weeping all around:
The mournings off the rails they threw,
That all around might have a view,
His neck right on the block it lay,

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With hands stretcht out to swim away,
And when he let the handkerchief go,
He did receive the fatal blow,
Which cut the head off to a tack
Of skin, cut by a second hack.

Then Balmerino he came forth,
Like a bold hero from the North,
Who of death itself was not afraid,
At least, he show'd but small regard,
Cloth'd in his regimental Blue,
Trimmed with gold, a warlike hue.
He pray'd to God, and mercy sought;
But fear of men was past his thought:
Drank to's friends ere he left the room,
And charg'd them all for to drink round,
Ain degree to heaven for me
And wish'd them better times to see:
Then said, Gentlemen a long adieu,
I'm detaining both myself and you.
Then to the scaffold he went full brief,
No signs of sorrow, fear or grief,
And round it walk'd a turn or two,
Where he saw acquaintance, gave a bow:
The inscription on his coffin read,
Said, That is right, and shook his head.
The block he call'd, His pillow of rest,
And said, That ax has been well drest,
The executioner's shoulder did clap,
And said, My friend, give a free chap,

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You ask my pardon, but that's a fable,
Your business is commendable:
Here's but three guineas, it is not much;
For in my life I ne'er was rich,
I'm sorry I can add no more to it,
But my coat and vest, I will allow it,
The buttons, indeed, they are but brass;
But do thy bus'ness ne'ertheless,
Stript off his coat and neck-cloth too,
And them upon his coffin threw:
A flannel waist-coat then put on,
With a tartan cap his head upon,
Then said, For honour of the Clan,
This day I die as a Scots-man.
Then adjusted his posture on the block,
Shewing his signal for the stroke,
Was by dropping of his arms down:
Then turning to his friends aroun',
He once more of them took farewel,
And to the crowd around did wheel,
Perhaps you'll think that I'm too bold,
This to a gentleman he told,
Whom he perceived standing near,
But, Sir, I solemnly declare,
'Tis all through confidence in God,
A sound conscience, and cause avow'd,
If I dissemble with signs of fear,
I were unworthy of dying here.
Then to the executioner said,
Strike resolute and have no dread:
For I'll surely count you for a foe,
Unless you give a hearty blow,
To the stage side did then retire,
And call'd the Warder to come nigh'r,
Asking which was the hearse for him,
Bade the driver come nearer in,
Immediately kneel'd to the block,

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Stretch'd out his arms, and thus he spoke,
“O Lord reward my friends, he cries,
“And now forgive mine enemies,
“Receive my soul, good Lord, I crave,”
So his arms fell, the signal gave.
At this unlook'd for suddenness,
Th'executioner surpriz'd was,
Did unprepar'd direct the blow,
That deep enough it did not go,
Before the second he turn'd his head,
As if in anger his jaws they gade,
Gnashing his teeth so veh'mently,
The head went off by blows three.
Upon red baize, the chopt-off head,
Was in coffin with his body laid.
Then the two hearses drove away,
To the grave where Tullibardine lay,
In St. Peter's Church, into the Tower,
Is these three Scots Lords' sepulchre,
All for one cause, into one grave,
Whom French delusion did deceive.

Next Charles Ratcliff was execute
For an old heroic exploit,
In the rebellious year fifteen,
Had with his brother at Preston been,
James the Earl of Derwentwater,
Who likewise suffer'd for the matter.
About thirty years before,
He lost his life and land therefore,
This Charles too was condemned;
But he from Newgate safely fled,
By slipping through a private door,
Along with other thirteen more,
Who by good fortune had the chance,
For to get safe away to France:
And he with King James went to Rome,
And zealous Papist did become.

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Twice return'd to England again,
Thinking his pardon to obtain;
But when he found it would not do,
A French commission he clapt into,
And there remain'd till Forty-Six,
When he thought, as heir, to refix
Upon the lands of Derwentwater;
But yet he did not mend the matter:
For as he did for Scotland steer,
On board of a French privateer,
The Sheerness catched him at sea,
With Scots and Irish more than he,
Bold officers for the Pretender,
Who yet were forced to surrender.
His Sire was Sir Francis of Derwentwater,
By extract from a Royal fornicator:
His mother's name was Mary Tudor,
From Charles the second, a nat'ral brooder,
Her mother's name was Mary Davis,
Whom the King lov'd as any mavis:
By this he came of Stewarts' line,
And blood to blood doth much incline;
Yet, b' equivocation to get free,
Deny'd himself Ratcliff to be,
After the identic body's prov'd,
He for arrest of judgment mov'd,
Said, He was a French officer,
Claim'd usage as a prisoner,
Being taken in a lawful war,
To touch him did them boldly dare:
But all this prov'd of no effect,
For the old crime he lost his neck,
Committed in the year Fifteen,
Though three and thirty years between.
Upon December the eighth day,
He to Tow'r-hill was led away
Where stage and block they did up-fix,

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And cut his head off at three licks,
Yet of his death he was right vain,
Gave his neck-cutter guineas ten.
His coffin was made super-fine,
Its handles all like gold did shine.

Carolus Comes de Derwentwater, Decollatus Die 8 vo Decembris, MDCCXLVI. Aetatis LIII. Requiescat in pace.

Now comes Lord Lovat, an aged man,
And Chief of all the Frazer's Clan,
Was next before his Peers try'd,
Most of th'impeachments he deny'd,
Half dead with age, and almost deaf,
Which did them plague, and caus'd mischief:

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For when they cry'd and cry'd again,
He answer'd on some other strain,
And told them, it was no fair trade,
As he did not hear one word they said,
And did not see what they could do,
As he 'gainst George his sword ne'er drew;
But always was governments' friend:
Therefore he wonder'd what they mean'd.
In the year Fifteen it was well known,
How much his loyalty was shown,
In quenching that rebellious storm,
What brave exploits he did perform.
Now, said he, I'm old and faild,
And cannot walk without a hald,
Without cause, ye need not my blood spill,
For death right soon will come a will:
If you judge I have been kind to foes,
It is but what the world allows.

Yet his servants were witness led
Of every deed done and said,
In supporting the rebellious way,
And so their proof bore heavy sway,
What Charles drank that afternoon,
When from Culloden he did run.
Then for his life was no remead,
He was condemn'd to lose his head,
Which he bore in a heroic way,
As an ancient Roman thus did say,
Dulce et decorum pro patria mori,
'Tis sweet and glorious a patriot to die.
The proof was strong, though he deny'd,
His letters also were apply'd,
Which he to Lord President sent,
When he advis'd him to repent,
And recal his son and men again,
Which counsel he held all in vain,
Saying, He had six hundred Frazers got,

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To guard his body from the King's hate,
And ask'd from whence such law could come,
As punish a father for the son?
If's son and the young clan were lost,
Yet of the old he made a boast,
That if his person were attack'd
His foes should be in collops hack'd,
Such were the brags in a letter sent,
Was writ unto Lord President,
When he advis'd him for his good,
To call his clan from Charlie's croud:
Fight! that he would, and die at home,
As it was not far unto his tomb.
When dead, his countrywives he'd have
Cronoch to sing around his grave.
Likewise he wrote, I understand,
Unto the Duke of Cumberland,
Reminding him, that he with joy,
Us'd him to carry when a boy,
Through Kingston park and Hampton Court
And to his Royal Sire made sport.
So, of his Grace he did demand
The favour, but to kiss his hand,
And told him he would do more good,
Than what they really understood.
Says he, 'twill be a better way,
Than take a poor man's life away,
Who cannot stand, ride or walk;
But only ly, or sit and talk.

A zealous Roman did to him write,
And had in him so great delight,
That he offer'd to suffer in his stead,
Whereat he smil'd, and jeering said,
This man's contrair Scripture, I see,
For a righteous man one'll hardly die:

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But for me, indeed, I'se no regard;
For I doubt he'll hardly be preferr'd.