find it quickly blasted. I have nothing to say against the gentle. man, or any living of his family; on the contrary I wish him better fortune than to have a long and unquict possession of his master's inheritance. Whatsoever I have spoken against his fa. ther, is that which I should have thought, though decency perhaps might have hindered me from saying it, even against mine own, if I had been so unhappy, as that mine by the same ways should have left me three kingdoms.

Here I stopped, and my pretended protector, who, I expected, should have been very angry, fell a laughing; it seems at the simplicity of my discourse, for thus he replied: You seem to pretend extremely to the old obsolete rules of virtue and conscience, which makes me doubt very much whether from this vast prospect of three kingdoms you can shew me any acres of your own. But these are so far from making you a prince, that I

am afraid

your friends will never have the contentment to see you so much as a justice of peace in your own country. For this 1 perceive, which you call virtue, is nothing else but either the frowardness of a Cynick, or the laziness of an Epicurcan. I am glad you allow me at least artful dissimulation, and unwearied diligence in my hero; and I assure you that he, whose life is constantly drawn by those two, shall never be misled out of the

way

of

greatness. But I see you are a pedant, and platonical statesman, a theoretical commonwealth’s-man, an utopial dreamer. Was ever riches gotten by your golden mediocrities, or the supreme place attained to by virtues that must not stir out of the middle? Do you'study Aristotle's politicks, and write, if you please, comments upon them, and let another but practise Machiavel, and let us see, then, which of you two will come to the greatest preferments. If the desire of rule and superiority be a virtue, as sure I am it is more im. printed in human nature than any of your lethargical morals; and what is the virtue of any creature but the exercise of those powers and inclinations which God has infused into it? If that, I say,

be virtue, we ought not to esteem any thing vicc, which is the most proper, if not the only means of attaining of it.

It is a truth so certain, and so clear,
That to the first-born man it did appear;
Did not the mighty heir, the noble Cain,
By the fresh laws of nature taught, disdain
That (though a brother) any one should be
A greater favourite to God than he ?
He struck him down; and, so (said he) so fell
The sheep which thou did'st sacrifice so well.
Since all the fullest sheaves which I could bring,
Since all were blasted in the offering,
Lest God should my next victim too despise,
The acceptable priest I'll sacrifice.
Hence coward fears; for the first blood so spilt,

As a reward, he the first city built.
VOL. VII,

'Twas a beginning generous and high,
Fit for a grand-child of the deity.
So well advanc'd, 'twas pity there he staid ;
One step of glory more he should have made,
And to the utmost bounds of greatness gone;
Had Adam too been kill'd, he might have reign'd alone.
One brother's death what do I mean to name?
A small oblation to revenge and fame.
The mighty-soul'd Abimelech, to shew
What, for high place, a higher spirit can do,
An hecatomb almost of brethren slew ;
And seventy times in nearest blood he dy'd,
To make it hold, his royal purple pride.
Why do I name the lordly creature, man?
The weak, the mild, the coward, woman, can,
When to a crown she cuts her sacred way,
All, that oppose, with manlike courage slay :
So Athaliah, when she saw her son,
And, with his life, her dearer greatness gone,
With a majestick fury slaughter'd all,
Whom high birth might to high pretences call;
Since he was dead, who all her power sustain'd,
Resolv'd to reign alope ; resolv'd, and reign’d.
In vain her sex, in vain the laws withstood,
In vain the sacred plca of David's blood;
A noble and a bold contention ! she,
One woman, undertook with destiny ;
She to pluck down, destiny to uphold
(Oblig'd by holy oracles of old)
The great Jessæan race on Judah's throne,
Till 'twas at last an equal wager grown;
Scarce fate, with much ado, the better got by one.
Tell me not she herself at last was slain ;
Did she not first seven years, a life-time, reign ?
Seven royal years, t'a publick spirit, will seem
More than the private life of a Methusalem.
'Tis godlike to be great ; and as, they say,
A thousand years, to God, are but a day;
So, to a man, when once a crown he wears,

The coronation-day's more than a thousand years. He would have gone on, I perceived, in his blasphemies, but that, by God's grace, I became so bold as thus to interrupt him: 1 understand now perfectly, which I guessed at long before, what kind of angel and protector you are; and, though your stile in verse be very much mended, since you were wont to deliver oracles, yet your doctrine is much worse, than ever you had formerly (that I heard of) the face to publish; whether your long practice with mankind has increased and improved your malice, or whether

you think us in this age to be grown so impudently wicked, that
there needs no more art or disguises to draw us to your party. My
dominion, said he hastily, and with a dreadful furious look, is so
great in this world, and I am so powerful a monarch of it, that I ,
need not be ashamed that you should know me; and, that you may
see I know you too, I know you to be an obstinate and inveterate
malignant, and for that reason I shall take you along with me to
the next garison of ours; from whence you shall go to the Tower,
and from thence to the court of justice, and from thence you know
whither. I was almost in the very pounces of the great bird of
prey,

When, lo! e'er the last words were fully spoke,
From a fair cloud, which rather ope'd, than broke,
A flash of light, rather than lightning, came;
So swift, and yet so gentle was the flame.
Upon it rode, and, in his full career,
Seem'd, to my eyes, no sooner there than here,
The comeliest youth of all th' angelick race;
Lovely his shape, ineffable his face;
The frowns, with which he struck the trembling fiend,
All smiles of human beauty did transcend.
His beanis of locks fell, part dishevell’d down,
Part upwards corld, and form’d a natral crown,
Such as the British monarchs us’d to wear;
If gold might be compar'd with angels hair;
His coat and flowing mantle were so bright,
They seem'd both made of woven silver light;
A-cross his breasťan azure ruban went,
At which a medal hung, that did present,
In wond'rous, living figures, to the sight
The mystick champion's, and old dragon's fight;
And, from his mantle's side, there shone afar
A fix'd and, I believe, a real star.
In his fair hand (what need was there of more?)
No arms, but th English bloody cross he bore;
Which when he tow'rds th' affrighted tyrant bent,
And some few words pronounc'd (but what they meant,
Or were, could pot, alas! by me be known;
Only, I well perceiv'd, Jesus was one)
He trembled, and he roar'd, and fled away,
Mad to quit thus his more than hop'd-for prey.
Such rage inflames the wolf's wild heart and eyes
Robb’d, as he thinks, unjustly of his prize)
Whom unawares the shepherd spies, and draws
The bleating lamb from out his ravenous jaws;
The shepherd fain himself would he assail,
But fear above his hunger does prevail;
He knows his foc too strong, and must be gone;
He grins as he looks back, and howls as he goes on.

૦

1

A RELATION

OF THE

Truc Funerals of the great Lord Marquis of Montrose,

HIS MAJESTY'S LORD HIGH COMMISSIONER, AND CAPTAIN-GENE.

RAL OF HIS FORCES IN SCOTLAND;

With that of the renowned Knight, Sir William Hay of Delgity. Printed in the Year 1661. Quarto, containing twenty-four Pages. G D Almighty's justice,

and revenge of murder, is so frequently said here on that theme in general, lest I should grate on some, who, though subtle, have been surprised in their subtlety, while they devested themselves of christian maxims, to raise themselves, through human policy, by the ruin of the most eminent; and yet that their promised stability hath been over-turned, and their cut. out ways damped and overclouded with abysses and darkness. The briquals and returns of providence of this nature, discovered in our late unnatural civil war, are testimonies sufficient to convince and confound the most peremptory atheist of the eternal and immortal deity, that will suffer no wickedness, under what specious pretences soever of reformation or good causes to pass unpunished. I shall not mention those ambitious spirits, who grounded their proper advancement by overthrowing religion and law; how, I say, some of those vagabonds are exposed to shame and deserved obloquy. But the divine providence teacheth us to make this difference, that, when virtue and loyalty have groaned and suffered under tyranny and oppression, in the end they have been crowned with fame and admiration, as our dread sovereign and noble parliament would have it witnessed in the celebration of the great Marquis of Mon. trose's funerals, in the highest and most magnificent grandeur, to counterbalance the height of malicious invention exercised on him to the full. The particulars of the honourable ceremonies will, in true and exquisite heraldry, display the several dignities he had, either as a peer of the land, or charged with his majesty's service; so, in a proportionable manner, we shall shew the honour done to the memory of that renowned colonel, Sir William Hay of Delgity, who, suffering martyrdom with him in the same cause, ambitioned his funeral under the same infamous gibbet; prophetically, cer. tainly, that he might participate with him the same honour at his I first bodily resurrection. This his request was easily assented to

by these monstrous leeches, whose greatest glory was to be drank and riot in the blood of the most faithful subjects; nay, eren some of those, whose profession should have preached mercy, belched out, that the good work went bonnily on, when the scaffold, or Sather shambles, at the cross of Edinburgh, for the space of six weeks, was daily smoaking with the blood of the most valiant and loyal subjects. But we proceed to the funeral pomp, hoping that these glorious martyrs are praising and glorifying God, while we are amusing Ourselves in this scantling transitory following des. cription : From the abbey-church of Holy-rood House, to that of St. Giles in the High town, the funeral pomp was as followeth:

Two conductors in mourning, with black staves.

Twenty-five poor in gowns and hoods; the first of which went alone next to the conductors, carrying a gumpheon; the other twenty-four following two and two, carrying the arms of the house on long staves.

An open Trumpet, cloathed in a rich livery of the marquis's colours, carrying his arms on his banner.

Sir Harry Grahame, in compleat armour on horseback, carrying on the point of a lance the colours of the house; this noble gentleman accompanied his Excellency in all his good and bad for. tunes, both at home and abroad.

Servants of friends in mourning, two and two.

The great Pincel, with his arms, carried by John Grahame of Douchrie, a renowned highlagd hector, and one who stuck peremptorily to the present Marquis of Montrose, in the last expedition under his Grace the Lord Commissioner; he is best known by the title of Tetrarch of Aberfoyl.

The great standard in colours, with his arms, carried by Thomas Grahame of Potento, a hopeful cadet, of the ancient family of Clarrisse.

An horse of war, with a great saddle and pistols, led by two lacquies in livery.

The Defunct's servants, two and two, in mourning.

An horse in state, with a rich foot-mantle, two lacquies in rich livery, and his parliament badges.

Four close Trumpets in mourning, carrying the Defunct's arms on their banners.

The great gumpheon of black tafsety, carried on the point of a lance, by William Grahame the younger, of Duntrum, another sprightful cadet of the house of Clarrisse.

The great Pincel of mourning, carried by George Grahame the younger, of Cairnie, who, from his first entry to manhood, accom. panied his chief in the wars.

The Defunct's friends, two and two, in mourning.

The great mourning banner, carried by George Grahame, of Inchbraky, the younger, whose youth-head only excused him from running the risques of his father.

The spurs, carried on the point of a lance, by Walter Grahame the elder, of Duntrum, a most honest royalist, and highly commen. ded for his hospitality.

The gauntlets, carried by George Grahame, of Drums, on the point of a lance; a worthy person, well becoming his name.

The head-piece, by Mungo Grahame, of Gorthy, on the point