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Broadside entitled 'Murder: An Elegy'



An Elegy on the lamented
Death of Alexander Cairns,
who was barbarously mur-
der'd on Thursday last,

WHat dismal News approach our listning Ears,
Which fills our Hearts with Grief, our Eyes with Tears.
Nature revers'd forgets her usual Course
And overturns the World with rapid Force:
In boundless Vice all human Creatures roul,
And break the Laws of Heav'n without Controul.
Impious Mortals bath their Hands in Bood,
They live on Murder, as on common Food.
O sinful Wretches ! Rebels against Heav'n,
Why 'gainst your Maker is your Malice driv'n ?
T' abuse his Image, and despise his Laws,
We know the Effects, but cannot tell the Cause.

A silent Sable clad the azure Sky,
And wild Confusion roll'd in ev'ry Eye,
When Fiends of Hell, fit Instruments of Death,
Enemies of Heav'n,   and cursed Sons of Wrath,
Attak'd the Youth,   and with perfidious Strife,
Deprived him of his most precious Life :
Shed his Heart's Blood, and made a sudden Flight,
Protected by the Darkness of the Night.                                       
O Night !   thou Repose of the wearie Mind,                              
Why did the wretches Safety by thee find ?                                    
Why did not the vast Battlements of the Sky,                           
Drop on their Heads and crush their Villainy ?                              
Why did not Earth gape wide, and swallow down                           
The bloody Murderers to Hell's lowest Room ?                           
Why did not Thunder light upon their Head,                                 
And fiery Lightning burn their Bodies dead ?                              
Altho' from human Laws the Wretches fly,                                    
As far as Africk's utmost Boundary,                     
Yet at the great and dreadful Trumpet's Blast,                           
With quiv' ring Limbs they'll hear their Sentence past,
In burning Brimston must their Bodies roul,
And flaming Darts shall pierce their inmost Soul,

Ah noble Youth    how can we thee regrate,
Hurried to Silence by untimely Fate.
Why, as a Meteor by the morning Sun,                                       
Art thou, like mid-night overcast at Noon.                                    
He, while alive, with blazing Virtues shone.                              
A friendly Fortress and refulgent Sun :
Calm in his Temper,   quiet in his Life,
Denied to Passion, and estrang'd to Strife.
But now he's hurried to Eternal Rest,
Above the Skies, in mansions of the Blest.
His Soul's ascended with Seraphick Song,
From Earth's low Cottage to Eternal Home.

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Probable date published: 1728   shelfmark: RB.l.106(087)
Broadside entitled 'Murder: An Elegy'
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