ELEGIE On the Universally Lamented Death, of DUNCAN RONALD: Director Depute of the Chancelary, and Writer to his Ma­jesties Signet.

Who died at EDINBURGH, August 1700.

D
This year at Rome the Jubilie doth stand;
But whether Death or Pope doth most Command,
My Querie! pray tell me Travler now,
Where Death inhabites, Reigns, and pays his vow!
If you can tell me, where this King do Lodge;
I'le be thy vassal, and thy sorley Drudge.
U
Death! Death! our Kings, our Queens, our Nobles all,
Our Knights, our Barrons, Lairds, by thee they fall;
Our Dives, Lazrus, Senecas, and Lords;
Can never scape thy deadly fatal Cords.
Why is it so! By hear us alone decree,
Men must be living, also men must die
N
But ah! Death, now thou carries high thine hand,
Thou soars aloft; we cannot thee Command:
Thou shoots (like Cupid) Arrows from the Skyes,
Thou sends thy da [...]ts, [...] the mortal Dies,
Ah me! why so! can nothing [...]
[...] Dimonds never [...]
C
No, no, say'th Death: for why! my time is come,
My Scepter Crown, are old and Reign nigh run▪
I'm but a vassal of the pow'rs above▪
I must display the Banner of my love.
For Death's my name, a Lyon I must be,
Untill my day's be turn'd to Eternity.
A
Now Judgements nigh, the World is near an end;
My Sword is sharpest when I must Defend,
My cause; and my Commission I display,
When dust I send to Dust their Natives clay.
So Queries are but idle, vain to thee;
Read Birth, Death, Judgement and Eternitie.
N
For if I could have spar'd a Lov'ly Face;
Helen of Troy, might damped me with Grace.
If Riches; Cresus might have brib'd me then:
If Grace or beauty, or the sons of men,
Then might I have had Thousands at my hand,
Of Absoloms, and Solomons to stand.
If Learning Cicero, Seneca, these Wits,
Wou'd play'd me Musick, when I took my Fits,
Alse well as DAVID; But no Harmonie
Can Wound Me; Magick, cannot Blind mine Eye.
Nay, Kings and Emperours are my Trophies still,
Who then can Bribe me, who has all at Will.
R
Thy DUNCAN RONNALD, Depute of the Rolls,
The Keeper of Thy Chartors, Seasines, Scrolls,
Might been Preserv'd, if Grace or Parts might do:
But who's the Man, I spare, of Candour, now.
Yes, weep ye may, ye Scribes and Writers throng!
But ye that Weep, must meet Me Ere't be long.
O
Kindness of Nature, Sympathie Indites,
Our Mourning over RONNALD, and Invites:
He was a Man of Geni [...]usness and Arts,
Divine and Moral; Lov'd by Men of Parts.
What's more; He had the Popular Applause,
Of Commons, Learning's, Enemies, and Foes.
N
He carri'd Civil in his Post and Chaire
Of Honour's District, void of Anxious Fear;
Content with Fortune, Providence's Decree,
And vain Ambition, Emptiness did [...]
[...]
For fear of With'ring here among his Foes.
A
Well spoke, O Death! Crown Me with Mortal Rayes,
Come, stay no longer, quickly cut My Dayes;
Since We must Pass to Heav'n through Baca's Vale,
Hoise Anchor, Death, set M [...]zons on thy Sail:
For Dye We must, before we come to be,
With DUNCAN RONNALD in Prosperitie.
L
For We must walk by Faith, as RONNALD did,
And get Our Chartor-Party, to be [...]id,
In Our Recesses: Pray'r must be the Key,
Love and Assureance, twofold Charitie.
Then JESUS Merits, Jacobs Ladder can,
Make Scarlet Sins, made whiter than a Swan.
D
Death, Death, deny us Fate of Sudden Calls,
Seize but Gradatim, e're you break Our Walls;
Then Sound Thy Trumpet, as a Jona Shrill:
Our Bodies Yield, decay to Dust they will.
For Moulder Dwindle, and consume to Dust,
Men (Dust they are) Return to it they must.
Hoec raptim & cursum Composuit, Mr. GEORGE DEMPSTER

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