Yet still his Prince's wrongs redress'd.
He did invade his native land,

Yet wanted ne'er his king's command:
His country-men he fought, he kill'd,
Yet ne'er but traitors blood he spill'd,
He scourg'd the land, did tyrannise,
Yet only rebels did chastise.

He caus'd the subjects liberties,
Advanc'd the king's prerogatives;
Our edicts he did still neglect,
Th' ancient laws he did respect;
An apostate he branded was,

Yet still maintain'd the good old cause:
He lik'd not well our church's form,
Yet to the scriptures did conform.
He's excommunicate, and why?
He sinn'd too much in loyalty.
He dies a rebel to the crown,
Yet for the king his life lays down:
He's punish'd as a murtherer,
Yet's hang'd a valiant martyr:
His courage here was sole Roman,
His imitation's Christian.

Our wits consult him how to shame
And yet our wits procure his fame:
Alive and dead thus he doth prove
The equal but of hate and love.

Expect not here, in things complext,
That mid-mouth'd distinction 'twixt
True and false: And such like moe,
'Twixt really and deemed so:
To reconcile thy doubts. Attend
Till our posterity shall lend
Their sense upon the matter; so

The mother then shall let thee know

From errors.

The daughter, polish'd fair and clear
Then perhaps you'll hear
Them say, His life's his country's fame,
His usage and his death their shame.

Hunc {fur} or immanis reg

ит

Į ni jugula
is sepeli } vit aperte.

{

Sni

{"} dat {Golgotha Furcam.

is

φιλώραν θα

Funera Tumbam.

'N vain thou looks that I should show,
Whose ashes here doth sleep below:
For, if thou wouldst acquainted be
With his great parts and virtues high,

Consult with after-times, they'll tell
What we delight not to reveal.
Our off-spring will the truth discover,
Where we took pains the truth to smother:
Advise with times-recorder: Come,
He'll give you reasons why we're dumb;
My prince bids me but only say,
Montrose's bones we here did lay;
The pious dust forbids me breath
Aught of his usage or his death,
Lest sober infidels should spy
Our church's weakness, and deny
The gospel for our sakes, and cry,
"His death's his country's obloquy.'

SERA

On the great Montrose.

ERAPHIC Soul, what heavenly powers combine
To re-inter these sacred bones of thine?

Thy glorious relicts, by malice bonds detain'd

In silent grave, will no more be restrain'd,
But must appear in triumph, glad to see
The blessed year of Britons jubilee :
Should there a Phoenix from thy ashes rise,
Would not all nations it idolatrise?
Thy noble stem and high extraction
Was beautified with such perfection,
As makes thee still to be thy nation's glory,
Europe's great wonder, stately theme of story:
Thy valorous actings far transcend the praise
Of tongues or pens, or these my rural lays;
Therefore I must so high a subject leave,
And what I cannot speak, or write, conceive.

Mr. John Chalmers.

A Reflection on the first and second Funerals of the great

Montrose.

MAZED with these glorious shews, I find

AM

A crowd of fancies struggling in my mind;
Staggering me in a doubt, which will be chief,
A grievous joy or a rejoicing grief.

While I behold the trophies of thy worth,
With all this joy and splendor now set forth;
And hear thy name, perfumed by the state,
With titles of so loyal and so great;
And see pure honour in so lofty strains,
Hov'ring above thy late disdain'd remains.
Thy parboil'd parched head, and thy dry bones,
Courted by Mars and Pallas both at once.

VOL. VII.

R

Thy conquering palm with loading higher rise,
And, in the treasury of thy growing praise,
Each cast his mite: And here thy en'mies cry
Hosanna now for their late Crucify.

To see thy friends their honour yet retain,
Rearing thy trophies with triumphant train:
This over treason adds a victory more,
A seventh conquest to the six before. -
To see thy torments travelling with thy praise,
And thy herse crowned with thy conquering bays:
To see thy pains, thy infamy, thy death,
Give life to loyalty, to honour breath ;
That after thee these virtues may revive,
And in thy glorious issue ever live.

These do commence our joys, these expiate
Our former crimes, although they came too late.
And yet our griefs from that same fountain spring,
He's dead, for whom our jovial ecchoes ring.
He's dead, the shame of all our British story.
He's dead, the grace of all our Scottish glory.
Valour's great Mimon, the true antidote
Of all disgrace that e'er defam'd a Scot.
The flower and Phoenix of a loyal stem,
In Charles's crown the most illustrious gem.
And yet this gem is broke, this Phoenix dead,
This glory buried, Mimon murdered.

A sight would made, had he been there to see't,
Argus with all his eyes turn Heraclit:
Would metamorphos'd Mars to Niobe,
And turn'd the world all but to one great eye,
To have delug'd that ghastly rueful place
Where Albion's faith, and honour, buried was:
A place which ever wise posterity

Shall stile, hereafter, second Calvary.

It was no dint of steel, nor force of arms,
Nor traitors plots that did procure his harms.
To encounter and to conquer, all did see,
Was one to him; at his nativity,

He had Mars in the ascendant, whose bright flame
Made mighty nations tremble at his name.
Valour with valour, force with force controul
He then, he only could: But's loyal soul
To be a willing victim thought it meet,
While monarchy lay bleeding at his feet;
For, seeing Charles first run that sad disaster,
In that same cup he pledg'd his royal master.
And now, and not till now, that loyal spirit
Hath got the honour due unto his merit.
But since a schedule will not quit the score,
Fit for great volumes; here I'll give it o'er.

Too mean a tribute of a slow-pac'd verse
Is the affectory to so great a herse.
Or he or heav'n must make the epitaph,
That will be fit for such a noble

grave.

He did; and, after the solemnity,
Ev'n heav'n itself did weep his elegy.

Dignum laude virum musa vetat mori.

IN patriam, regem, legis ceu perfidus hostis
Pro patriâ, rege, & legibus occubui;
Legibus antiquis patriæ regique fidelis,
A patriâ, rege, & legibus intumulor.
Go, passenger, persuade the world to trust,
Thou saw intomb'd the great Montrose's dust:
But tell not that he dy'd, nor how, nor why?
Dissuade them in the truth of this to pry:
Befriend us more, and let them ne'er proclaim
Our nobles weakness, and our country's shame.
The noble ashes here shall only tell

That they were buried, not how they fell;
For faithful patriots should ne'er proclaim
Such acts as do procure their country's shame.

Let it content thee, passenger, that I
Can tell thee here intomb'd my bones do lie.
Do not enquire if e'er I died, or why?
Speak nought of cruel rage, hate, or envy,
Learn only this, 'tis malice to reveal
Our country's shame, but duty to conceal.

SEMPER IIDEM:

OR,

A PARALLEL BETWIXT THE ANCIENT AND MODERN

FANATICKS.

1 Tim. iv. 1.

In the latter Times, some shall depart from the Faith, giving heed to seducing Spirits, and Doctrines of Devils.

London: Printed for Richard Lownds, at the White Lion, in St. Paul's Church Yard, over-against the little North-Door, 1661.

Quarto, containing twenty-four Pages.

TO THE READER.

AFTER the great disturbance, which the Fanaticks gave the City of London, and other parts of this Kingdom, in January, 1660, and the reading their pernicious pamphlet, intitled, 'A Door of Hope; or, A Call and Declaration for the Gatbet

ing together of the first ripe Fruits unto the Standard of our Lord King Jesus?" I began to reflect upon what I had many years since read, touching their predecessors, in our histories and chronicles; and, upon a re-perusal of them, I found much of what the worst of our modern Fanaticks have, in these late days, acted and attempted, to be strangely copied out to their hand, by their brethren in the former age; and this, for the most part, in so exact a parallel of particulars, persons and circumstances, that I thought the publication of some of those histories in brief, with the tragical ends, which those sectaries received, as a just reward of their impiety and treason, might, if not deter the remnant of them, from holding such blasphemous opinions towards God, or ever attempting such treasons against the king, yet, at least, confirm good Christians, in a settled religion towards the one, and encourage good subjects in a perfect loyalty to the other.

IN the year 1414, Henry the Fifth, king of England, keeping

his Christmas, saith Stow, at his mannor of Eltham, seven miles from London, received notice, that certain persons had conspired, to have taken, or suddenly slain him, and his brethren, on the twelfth-day at night; to wit, Sir John Oldcastle, Sir Roger Acton, and others; whereupon he sent to the mayor of London to arrest all such suspicious persons, &c. and removed himself privately to Westminster, went into St. Giles's-fields at midnight, where divers were taken, &c. and, on the twelfth of January, sixty-nine of them were condemned of treason at Westminster; of which, on the morrow, thirty-seven of them were hanged in St. Giles's-fields, &c. And, shortly after, Sir Roger Acton was apprehended, and, on the tenth of February, drawn, hanged, and buried under the gallows.

Sir John Oldcastle, some three years after, was taken by chance in the territory of the Lord Powis, in the borders of Wales, not without danger and hurt to some that took him; nor could he himself be laid hold on before he was wounded, and was so brought up to London in a litter during the parliament, and there examined, indicted, &c. To which, he having made a resolute answer, was, for the aforesaid treason and other conspiracies, condemned to be drawn, and hanged upon a gallows, as a traitor, and to be burnt, as an heretick, hanging upon the same; which judgment was executed upon him on the fourteenth of December, in St. Giles's-fields; where many honourable persons being present, the last words he spoke were to Sir Thomas Copingham, adjuring him, That, if he saw him rise from death to life again the third day, he would procure, that his sect might be in peace.

Tanta prædictus fuit dementia, says Walsingham, ut putaret se post triduum a morte resurrecturum. This Oldcastle was grown so great a Fanatick, that he persuaded himself, he should rise again. the third day, as another saviour of his sectaries.

Now, if you would know of what particular sect these two rebel knights, and their adherents were, our chronologers will tell you, they were (according to the appellation of those times) Lollards, or Wickliffians, which may also be gathered from Mr. Fox's Acts and Monuments, where he says, his martyrs were, in some places, called, poor people of Lions; in other places, Lollards; in others, Turrelupins and Chagnards, but most commonly Waldois. And,