To the Memorie of the much Honoured, And much Lamented THOMAS ROBERTSON BAILIE and BUILDER of EDINBƲRGH; Who Departed this Life; September 22. 1686.
A Funeral ELEGIE.

THis World's a boiling Gulf of Griefs and Fears,
Where We have still occasion of new Tears;
Still something that molests us, whence we know
Heaven cannot be possessed here below.
What Heart? but that of Adamant, can hear,
Not making Eyes, pay Tribute to his Ear;
That THOMAS ROBERTSON is dead! a Fate,
Which sounds just like the downfall of a State;
Or some great Monarch, who with awful Hand
Did sway a Scepter, both o're Sea and Land.
Who was a Father unto all in need,
On whom Ten Thousand did depend for Bread.
Another Abraham whose Vertues vie,
With all the Lights that twinckles in the Skie;
So that our Fancie is opprest with Glorie,
That fill'd our Eyes with Wonder, Tongues with Storie.
He did attain to Fortunatus Purse,
And Amaltheas Horn, without a curse.
Yea when his Prosperous Spring-tides did prevail,
His Barge was never burdened with sail:
Such unambitious Looks he did advance,
As could have put Pride out of countenance.
And with the Product of his Heavenly Stock,
He succour'd all on wheel of Fortune broke.
And did imploy in Building Thousand Hands,
Such Monuments, as to Amazment stands;
Where Beauty mixt with Strength, doth so comply
To serve at once the Viewers Use, and Eye:
Like wise Seths Pillars, which have solid stood
From Age to Age, spite of a threatning Flood.
That to the Worlds last end there shall be known
No Builder like to THOMAS ROBERTSON;
Whose glorious Character for ever is;
He turned Dung-hills into Palaces.
With all that Cost and Cunning Beautified,
That adds to State, and nothing wants but Pride.
All which within the Skies their heads do shroud,
As they would ease great Atlas of his load.
But this was not our Hero's chief Renown;
That he Inrich'd and Beautified the Town.
Nay more within his Glorious building falls,
For he erected Men, as well as Walls;
And like a Solon when a Magistrate,
By Law and Building both preserv'd our State.
And with a Sumptuous, Free Magnificence,
Made Donatives both to the State and Prince.
So that some Learned Bard to come shall sing,
He was a Subject could oblidge a King.
Nay he oblidg'd the Age, who left behind
Live Characters of his Heroick Mind,
Six Generous Models of himself whose Name
Are both the Wonder and Discourse of F [...]
He with his Lovelie Mate from the first Start
Of Hymens bond, ran Heart still yoak'd in Heart.
Inflam'd alike with that Soul-Melting Fire,
That their two Souls joined still in one Desire;
Their house a Temple was where Prayer and Praise,
Did Blesse their nights, and sanctifie their Dayes
Which Prayers, and Alms unto Eternitie
With GOD, and Man embalms his Memorie;
Since like old Enoch, he to Blesse is gone,
I'ts not his Death, but his Translation.
Why then should we accompt his Gain our Losse?
Heavens hath the Gold, the Earth contains his Drosse.
Non domus sed hospitium corpus est, brevem omnino moram si cum AEternitate comparetur trahimus. Quod si domesticae ca­lamitatis vulnere afflicti, imis sensibus reponant, dolorem leniet.
Crucius.
Intervallis distinguimur, exitu aequamur.
Seneca.
Vitae summa brevis spem nos vetat
inchoare longam.
Hora fugit, rapido volvuntur tempora lapsu;
Singulus accelerat Fata suprema dies:
Vitae damna brevis, decus immortale rependit;
Effugit ardentes posthuma fama Rogos.
N: Paterson.

Edinburgh, Printed by J: Reid.

This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Text Creation Partnership. This Phase I text is available for reuse, according to the terms of Creative Commons 0 1.0 Universal. The text can be copied, modified, distributed and performed, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission.