AS the bringing in of Cromwel, after his Victory over our selves, into the Castle of Edinburgh; and shewing him all our great things, looked like the reception of the Ambassadors of Babell in. Jerusalem: so therein was prefigured his shamelesse Victory over that place which followed. And to that purpose then, (not without mine own pathetic,) and in this ejaculation, I exprest my self. Wherefore, and because it containeth what was seen in the causes thereof now accomplished, and amongst the rest, the honour of this day; I have made this which had not confidence to look the Sun before in the face, my mite; Howsoever too familiar for this time, and even below what I think my present.
THE EXCLAMES OF RHODOPÆA.
To the lamentable Death of the most Noble Marquess of MONTROSE.
Together with a reflection to his most Honourable Exequies in the great Church of EDINBƲRGH.
Writtten formerly, and now published at his Honourable Interment.
Printed in the Year, 1661.
[...]
THE EXCLAMES OF RHODOPE.
DIapered Rhodope with flowrs and gods,
Is blasted now, blown, flow'n from their aboads.
The mountains Angeline, her Roses fall,
Fair Rhodopaea weeps: and most of all,
The guardian Genius of the Kingdoms, at
The horror thereof shrinks: God just and great
Leaves man unto himself: Man doth what none
Dare speak of now: nor ever world saw done,
Which after age will, to th'eternal fame,
Of him who's dead; and the wide worlds great shame,
Who kill'd him for the fault, for which no man
Did ever yet die, since the world began.
That heavenly piece of Empyraeum, out
Of the supremst of all the heavens cut:
Inspired with a soul, appearing through
His more material tralucence, with no
Lesse then what is above man, Great Montrose,
Who to be loyal before greatnesse chose.
And when our expeditious horses did,
Beyond a Subjects common mark proceed:
And on the borders of Soveragnity,
Took unto them too wide a liberty;
He in his circle, at his own poast stay'd,
And what is come to passe out on us cry'd
When we, what was the good gift of God, thought
The Covenant within our Kingdom brought;
And did our walls threatning the clouds divide,
And gates capaceous to it opened wide,
Which hath so many armed men let out,
Whom by our wisdom we did make so stout.
Who with a high born hand undid the King
And did on fire it self set, and will bring
Our State and Church into confusion and
Threatneth with ruine to subdue our Land:
He, when the fatall ropes thereof we drew
Exclaim'd no credit to the horse give you.
But as Divine she who the overthrow
Of her own Countrey did to it forshow,
And was not heeded till all was undone,
And all the Towers of Troy were overthrown:
When they would gladly have prevented what
They else might done to have preserv'd their State,
So this great Man in the own causes ey'd
Th'event of what we have found true and try'd;
What reason and what opposition could
Do, to prevent what he to us foretold,
And warn'd us of our enemies falshood, and
The ruine of the King and of the Land
By those with whom we were so far combin'd
In action, one, much probable in mind;
And to the cause did set a brest of Brasse
To the prevention of what's come to passe.
And when we saw, that if we had done so,
We had far lesse then now we have to do.
And even were glad the cause to take in hand
Which he by word and deed had so maintain'd.
The abstract and the looking-glasse wherein
Antiquities Nobility did shine
In maintenance of no Idaea as
Others have done and let the substance passe,
Did by his valour win the Kingdom, and
Before him did acquiet the whole Land,
And did the willing Subject in head bring
Of just obedience to their native King.
For all which he had said or done, or we
By black experience had so found to be,
Without respect to God or man, or King,
Or what our selves might on our selves thus bring,
By paving way to others to be trode,
In a respectlesnesse to Noble Blood,
To be hang'd for their faults another day
When Justice happily again might sway.
We did condemn him without hearing, nor
Suffered his innocence, in his cause, more
Or lesse to speak, but haled him at length,
Where after triumph he dyed in full strength;
And with him many a guiltlesse and poor soul
Were partly kill'd, and partly put in roll
With that black letter, which ore they did breath
The wholsome air, seal'd, which they dy'd, their death,
And as when full, with all her Stars the Moon
At rising of the Sun doth then go down:
So when the King much like a [...]it Bridegroom
Or strong man like to run his race, did from
His Tabernacle or Chalmber come, Montrose
And all his Stars did set, and mongst all those
Drummond and Dalgetie did come in [...]eer
Like morning ones, and last did disappear.
This was the end of this great Man whose breath
His nostrils held; content nor with his death,
Nor with the manner: But to let men see
By his example what Nobilitie
Respect hath to plead for, when this strange shaene
May turn'd about be to our play again.
We with the wicked gave him not a grave,
Nor it allow'd his quartered Corps to have;
And further did, then I my tongue will let
Therein imbrued be, with the telling it.
Which was not thy misfortune man, great soul'd
Which brought thee to what unheard rigour could
Commence on wickednesse, nor in thee fault,
Which thee above thy self did so exalt:
But it was God who did it to his Glory
Which will be seen in end of thy deaths story,
When the avengers of thy blood shall come,
When there shall not a City be to run
For refuge to; or for all those who hath
Been brought before to an untimely death,
By such a violence unheard before,
Sometimes in Battell without Quarter, or
By Law, against the Law, which for my part
I ever thought me bound to in my heart
And swore to have maintain'd; And many one,
Who in the quarrel have their lives laid down,
The least part of us all, from Stuart, who
Was first, to Drummond last, which well known two
Did close the bedroll ends, which did contain
So many of us all, as have been slain
And 'mongst the rest, Thou great Duke Hamiltoun,
Although thy blood did not our streets run down,
Thy death was e're thou dy'd, applaused by
A volley of our great'st Artaillery;
In thy great Armies fatall overthrow,
Which we undid, and Victor made our foe,
Unto whose triumphes we his Trophees made,
And in his honour set out all we had,
Glory and strength; and to our strong Holds brought
The Enemie who shame and losse had wrought;
That arch of Traitors who it seconded
By doing after of a far worse deed,
In putting in the Lords Anointed hand
Whom we, though not sworn ought to have maintaind,
The world but one eye had, and he it quit
put out, and dim'd both us and him in it.
No King protestant was more upon earth
To whom he suffered not air to give breath,
And as we had been emulous, a little,
After the great breaking of that but britle
Vessell, which glorious his soul held, which shall
Shine, to give light, to their destruction all,
Who either to the Altar bound or cut
So innocent a sacrifices throat.
To the attonement whereof if Arte
Might make imperchment where there is no part,
Old Huntley's blood was shed, who yet did never
Much evil, and was forced to deliver
His soul up, on the passion eve to be
A sprinkling our door posts upon, when the
Destroying Angel of God shall passeover,
Judgement to execute on whosoever,
Hath broke the oath of God, or out have stood
In th'evil matter of the Royal Blood:
Or the Arch-traitor come back to revew
What needlesly our follies our foe shew
(Which never yet was fortunate) who may
Be master of the same and bear away
What he before had seen, when God may let
Us see, he hath no, blessing given to it.
These Agnu's Deis are on the fatal threed,
Whereon the number of our stain are thred.
Which the whole world hath taken, and a chain
Thereof made it about our necks to hang,
Whereon these Noble two Peers do make up
A carbuncle on either shoulders top.
And thou Montrose, who more then all the rest
Didstst for thy Master, shinest in the breast,
Whereat the Tablet hangs which of all there
The Phaenix Jewel is, nor other where,
Wherein is Printed the eternal face,
Flushing his Royal Innocence and Grace.
We killed Thee, the day when we our King
Did in our Israel receive to reign,
For fighting for thy Soveraign, when he fled
O're Jordan, where his Sacred Blood was shed.
And ere the Red blusht on the White and spread
The Rose were cropped, and the tree was sued.
And his kind friends only themselves content,
On th'oderiferous sweetnesse of his sent.
Which when cold North did on his Garden blow,
Did from the perfumes of his Spices flow,
Into the Air innobling so him by
The Incense of a lasting memory:
When we who now joy, may as sore lament
When time shall make a late time to repent:
Let us that mistake colour as we will
No colour will be to put on that ill,
And as the world hath now seen one, will see
Another as sad a catastropee.
The Lord of all things had before decreed,
The time he lived, and the time he died,
Which being now come to a period, he
Gave him into our hands, this death to die,
That our cup thereby being better fill'd,
All of us might, who should be killed, kill'd.
And inexcusable made that God may
Be just when he condemneth us, and they
The Crown gain of their labour: 'Gainst what hath
Been seal'd, it seems, with signet of Gods wrath.
Whereto example nor command had yet,
World nor reproof for not doing that great
Work, which hath such confusion State brought on,
And Church, that from the Beggar to the Throne
An universal suffering hath been, and
With guiltlesse crying blood is fill'd the Land:
Murther'd is King, State, and Religion lost,
And what we thought to have maintained most,
And what we sureliest thought to stand and swore,
In such a manner never done before.
However, God did bring him to his end,
Who most the Kingly Interest did defend:
That debt of death since he was once to pay,
Though circumstances odious make the way,
He but Gods businesse joyn'd to his own
As't in his way lay, who them both hath done.
His soul the world but left, and now is gone
Unto the heavenly Mansions tendered one:
The wings of Angels, or convey'd did fly,
Loos'd from the carnal fetters of her clay,
In twinckling of an eye, as all before
Him, so the Saints did passe into their glore,
And his Great Master, when upon the brink,
His Sacred Head bow'd down to take a drink,
Of the fair River of Eternity,
He was devour'd of immortality,
So, in a moment, what no charitie
Can otherwise judge, hath he pearcht so high.
'Tis true, he's thought a murtherer by the State,
And by the Church is Excommunicate,
And who are bound or loosed here below,
Are bound in heaven and loosed are also
Which either groundlesse makes our charity,
Or what in both I would be loath to say:
Yet if what Church or State have done agree,
With what example or command can be
In Word of God, then all is true is done,
And in the end the event will it crown.
We Reformation did intend, but mean
Took thereto, which, if God did it ordain,
It doth transcend the model of what either,
Nature or he bestow'd upon me ever:
Nor for Religion or securitie,
Did world hear like, or will it justifie.
But thou who shuttest, and canst open, and
The key of that clos'd Cabin hast in hand;
Wherein, if subtilties be lockt, which fret
The cloak will, which hath palliate our State.
Once open thou, and that Gold button string
Cut, wherewith we the cloak about us hing,
And let it fall, and all the mysteries
Of State discover, and iniquities
If any be: Or if it be mistake
Or prejudice which us beyond us take,
Or led by any zeal to do more then
God for himself did ever us ordain.
O Edinburrow where those have been kill'd,
Who's Carcasses have all thy ditches fill'd,
And where those never matched Counsel sate,
Which have in such a model cast our state:
The Sun which hath those blind works seen, which none
Else have, but what unto themselves are known,
May see the shaene chang'd, which discover shall
The mystery wherein infolded all.
The pack of these brest businesses are
Which hath destruction made, boodshed and War,
And either shall see loos'd that Gordian knot,
Or bundle of our great'st mistakes see cut,
Or our eyes opened, that the wonders we
May of thy Law see, when all those shall be
Who should be killed; kill'd; and time about
Be punisht for the fault we never thought.
O Thou who dwellest in the extreames of light,
And ends inhabitest of infinit,
To which is no accesse, nor eye of man
Did ever penitrat, nor enter can
The secret thereof, wit: O Thou who hast
All things of nothing made, and even them cast
In mould of excellence; and each in it
Kind dutifull made, and the world hath set
In heart of man, who yet the work cannot
From the beginning wrought by thee find out:
Grant me humility; and to suspend
My judgement, till I see in things an end.
But mean while give me leave thus much to say,
I search have made, and only this found I,
That God hath made men upright, but they have
Many inventions sought which them deprave.
To the most Honoured Exequies of the Great and Blessed MONTROSE.
THat Heavenly piece of Empyraeum, out
Of the supream'st of all heavenly, cut;
Inspired with a soul, appearing throw
His more material tralucence, with no
Lesse then what is above man; Great Montrose,
Who to be Loyal before greatnesse chose;
When by mans wisdom, without Gods, the King,
Church, State had murdered, darkned, ruin'd been,
He through blood waded, with a brest of Brasse
To the prevention of what's come to passe,
And when he had done all, he up at last,
In the flame, which had him still burned past:
Where he above is Angell'd, and below
To their shame's honoured, who repent it now.