And, as on bodies shadows do attend, Sith all our bliss is follow'd with annoy? She is not dead, she lives where she did love, ARETINUS'S EPITAPH.-CLXXI. HERE Aretine lies, most bitter gall, Nought said, but that he knew him not. UPON THE DEATH OF JOHN, EARL OF LAUDERDALE. CLXXII. Of those rare worthies who adorn'd our North, And shone like constellations, thou alone Remainedst last, great Maitland! charg'd with worth Second in Virtue's theatre to none. But finding all eccentric in our times, Religion into superstition turn'd, And for no great nor virtuous minds a room- CLXXIII. WHEN misdevotion every where shall take place, Shall move you, people, to arise in arms, On high, on low, on good, on bad confer, More we would say, but fear, and stand in awe CLXXIV. Do not repine, bless'd soul, that humble wits Thou didst deserve no less; and here in jet, ON THE DEATH OF A NOBLEMAN IN SCOTLAND, BURIED AT AITHEN. CLXXV. ArTHEN, thy pearly coronet let fall; Mourn this thy nurseling's loss, a loss which all Ah! when shalt thou find shepherd like to him, His splendour others glow-worm light did dim: He virtue more than many did embrace. He fram'd to mildness thy half-barbarous swains; The good man's refuge, of the bad the fright, Unparallel'd in friendship, world's delight! For hospitality along thy plains Far-fam'd a patron; and a pattern fair Most debonnaire, in courtesy supreme; Lov'd of the mean, and honour'd by the great; Ne'er dash'd by Fortune, nor cast down by Fate; To present and to after times a theme. Aithen, thy tears pour on this silent grave, And, when thou hast distilled here a tomb, FAME, register of time, CLXXVI. Write in thy scroll that I, Of wisdom lover, and sweet poesy, Was cropped in my prime ; And ripe in worth, though green in years, did die. CLXXVII. JUSTICE, Truth, Peace, and Hospitality, Friendship, and Love, being resolv'd to die, In these lewd times, have chosen here to have CLXXVIII. WHEN Death, to deck his trophies, stopt thy breath, All with moist eyes might say, and ruthful hearts, What good in parts on many shar'd we see, In honour, bounty, rich-in valour, wit, In courtesy; born of an ancient race; With bays in war, with olives crown'd in peace; Match'd great with offspring for great actions fit. No rust of times, nor change, thy virtue wan With times to change; when truth, faith, love, decay'd, As erst this kingdom given was to thy sire, |