The Lyon in Mourning, Vol. 1. Forbes Robert

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      In this brave Lord, the mirror of mankind

      Religion, virtue, loyalty had join'd,

      To make him great in ev'ry act of life.

      But greater still when he resign'd that life;

      With fortitude went through his martyrdom.

      No nobler motto can adorn his tomb.

      Strictly attached to royal Stewart's race,

      For which he died, and by his death gave grace,

      To the just cause he bravely did embrace.

      Like great Montrose, he fear'd no tyrant rage;

      Next to his prince, the hero of the age.

      His glorious death to distant climes shall reach,

      And trait'rous minds true loyalty shall teach.

      His noble soul to us endears his name,

      And future ages shall resound his fame.

      Lo! where undaunted Balmerino stood,

      Firm without canting, seal'd his faith in blood.

      In cause of right and truth unmov'd and just,

      And as he knew no fear, betray'd no trust.

      The amaz'd spectator drop'd the troubled eye,

      As more afraid to look than he to die.

      Whence sprung this great unparallel'd deport?

      God and his conscience were his strong support.

      Short is the term of life, my honour'd friend.

      Soon o'er the puny space with rapid speed

      The unreturning moments wing their way,

      And sweep us from our cradles to the grave.

      And yet this puny space is fill'd with toil

      And labours in the transitory scene,

      To make life wretched, as 'tis frail and fleeting.

      Rattles and toys employ and please our childhood.

      Wealth, pomp, and pleasure, full as arrant trifles,

      Commence the idols of our riper years,

      And fill the mind with images as wild;

      Absurd, fantastic, as a sick man's dreams,

      Disquieting this span of life in vain.

      He truly lives and makes the most of life

      Who well hath studied its intrinsic worth,

      And learnt to lay it down with resignation;

      Can like thee, Balmerino! lay it down,

      And deem it not his own, when honour claims it.

      See the unconquer'd captive (matchless man!),

      Collected in his own integrity;

      Facing with such a brow the king of terrors,

      And treading on the utmost verge of life,

      Serene as on a summer's ev'ning walk;

      Draws more amazing eyes upon his scaffold [fol. 114.]

      Than ever gaz'd on laurell'd heroes car;

      Triumphant in his fall o'er all that crusht him.

      Amazement seiz'd the crowded theatre,

      Struck with the awful scene; and throb'd a heart

      In ev'ry breast but his. The headsman trembl'd

      That rais'd the fatal axe. Nor trembl'd he

      On whom 'twas falling. Falls the fell edge;

      Nor shrinks the mangl'd victim! What are stars and garters?

      All titles, dignities, all crowns and sceptres,

      Compar'd with such an exit? When these perish

      Their owners be as they had never been,

      In deep oblivion sunk. This greater name,

      As long as any sense of virtue lasts,

      Shall live and fragrant smell to after times,

      Exhibiting a pattern how to die,

      And far the fairest former times have seen.