Thus his Newgate-Birds once, in the Space of a Moon,
Tho' they liv'd to no Purpofe, they dy'd to fome Tune.
In Death was his Hope,

For he liv'd by a Rope.
Yet this, by the Way,
In his Praffe we may fay,
That, like a true Friend,
He his Flock did attend,
Ev'n to the World's End,
And car'd not to start
From Sledge, or from Cart,
'Till he firft faw them wear
Knots under their Ear;
And merrily fwing,
In a well-twifted String.
But if any dy'd hard,
And left no Reward,
As I told you before,
He'd inhance their old Score,
And kill them again
With his murd'ring Pen.'
Thus he kept Sin in Awe,
And fupported the Law;
But, Oh! cruel Fate!
So unkind, tho' I fay't,

Lak

Ciscount Dundee

Laft Week, to our Grief,
Grim Death, that old Thief
Alas! and Alack!

Had the Boldness to pack
This old Priest on his Back,
And whither he's gone,
Is not certainly known.
But a Man may conclude,
Without being Rude,

That Orthodox Sam,

His Flock would not fhams

And to fhew himself to 'em a Paftor most Civil,
As he led, fa he follow'd 'em all to the D-1.

An ELEGY in Memory of the Gallant Vifc. Dundee, who was kill'd by a random Shot, after he had won the Battel at Gillecrankey. Writ by Mr. Brown, at the Request of Dr. Griffith and Mr. Burges.

G

Fors & virtus mifcentur in unum.

Oddess, to urge me on, forbear,

Virg. Æneid. 12.

Or make my mournful Song thy Care;

Opprefs'd with Doubts, and mighty Woe,

I'd fing the Man, that all Mankind thou'd know,

How brave he fought, how conquer'd, and how fell,
And in what Caufe affift me whilft I tell.

Quickly the News was hither brought,

Too true, alas! that he was dead,

And all our Expectations fled;

But yet we would not entertain the Thought.

Between the Extreams of Hope and Feat,

Confus'd we ftood, the Truth to hear,

Until 'twas made at laft too plain,

Beyond all Doubt the great unconquer'd Man' was flain.

Forgive

Forgive me, Heav'n, that impious Thought, At first I question'd your Supream Decree, Love to my King the Madnefs wrought,

And Grief for the World's Lofs, the brave DUNDE E.
Oh! frail Eftate of Things below,

Well to our Coft your Emptinefs we know.
Scarce from the Fury he had pafs'd

Of a mistaken factious Race,

But other Dangers follow him as fa

And trace him as he goes from Place to Place:
His Friends defert, his Foes purfue,

Yet ftill undaunted he goes on

New Dangers but his Mind and Strength renew,

So Brave, fo Juft, and Good, was this unalter'd Man,
The much o'er-match'd in Men and Arms,

His Caufe and Courage only beft,

And his Example far above the reft

M ni yo
Firmly refolv'd, he meets the num’rous Foe;
But firft, with chearful Anger in his Face,

Soldiers and Friends, he fpoke, I'm fure you know,
For what Intent, and for whofe Sake we go,
And then he bow'd, and briefly told the Cafe,

·His Speech to his Soldiers.

A King entail'd, by long Defcent,

Equal almoft to Time in its Extent,

Robb'd of his Throne, for fure it must be fo;

Nor God nor Nature can,

Only prefumptuous Man,

Be guilty of fo black an Overthrow.

What's worse, to palliate the Pretence,
Harmless Religion too is brought,

Falfly and indirectly us'd,

And all her facred Myfteries abus'd,

Beyond what the dark Sybils ever taught.

And can we bear, my Friends, this great Offence?

Can we ftand idle by,

And see our Mother robb'd, at last condemn'd to die,
And not endeavour for fome Recompence ?

Envy