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Broadside entitled 'Elegy'




On the deplorable Death of Elizabeth Murray Sistee to Sir William Murray
of Newtoun barb'rously murdered by her Husband Thomas Kincaid younger of
Gogar-Mains, March 29th 1723.

        -Foul Deeds will rise,
        Tho' all the Earth o'rewhelm them, to Mens Eyes.
        And Murther, tho' it have no Tongue will speak,
        With most miraculous Organ ---shak.
        The Hue and Cry of Heaven pursues him at At Heels,
        Fresh from the Fact,--------                      Chauc.

AS there are fatal Times when Nature's sighs,
And noxious Reeks from Earth eclipse the Skies;
She speaks to Men, with pestilential Breath,
Conveys her Poison, and triumphs in Death :
For Punishiment of Sin, as Heav'n permits,
She sullen grows, and takes her peevish Fits ;
She shews gloomy discontented Mind,
And gluts the Grave with Spoils of humane Kind :
So, there are terrible unlucky Times
( For Providence corrects enormous Crimes )
When Satan spreads Contagion in the Mind,
With Mischief, and with Madness damns Mankind
The Venom or the Asp, with   Tumors swell,
And turgide grows and ripens unto Hell ;
When Villany it's impious Head shalll rear,
In Querpo, strut and Satan's Liv'ry wear ;
And this we by a sad Experience know,
We feel th' Effects of Sin, and Heav'ns weighty blow:
Mens Principles, and Practices contend,
The Devil's Empire for to recommend :
It's hard to say ( the Times are so accurs'd )   
If our Opinions, or our Deeds are worst?
In broad Day-light, Men act what heretofore,
In dead of Night, their Concience would abhore.
Women are Ravisht on the King's high Way,
And every Man his Neighbour doth betray.
Falshood and Fraud grow rank in this our Soil,
And Pulses, With a hellish Fever boil ;
The mentioning our Crimes, makes Nature start;
They'd shoke an Infidel, and peirce his Heart :
Religion's fled, and Truth is now no more ;
Christians commit what Pagans would abhore,
Cruelty walks with huge Gigantick Paths,
Makes Compliments, to Hell,of strange unheard of Deaths
Earth's faithless grown,--- This leads me to relate,
Harmless Eliza,    thy untimely Fate.
Thou falls by thy own Husband's impious Hands,
That join'd thee to himself, in Marriage Bands,
With Virtue that's untainted, was thy Heart
You kept alive the   Marriage Flame, abhor'd the Wanton's Part.
How I lament thy black and dismal Fate ;
Wedded to him, whom ev'ry Man   did hate.
Ridgide and false perfidious still at Strife ;
With thee, who knew the Charter of a Wife
Obey'd thro' Duty,   with the Idiot strove,
Meekly and with the utmost Stretch of Love,
Tho' he a Miscreant was, and Nature's Blot,
Unfit for Marriage ties, a drunken Sot.-
Eliza, thou was Virtuous from thy Youth,
High born, well bred, and spoke with native Truth;
To that unnatural Wretch, ne're gave Offence,
Thy Practise spoke thee plain, and full of Innocence :

To tell the Tygar's Usage, I forbear,
Which would from the most Savage force a Tear.
Thy Death, Eliza,   must not be express'd,
It with Convultions cleaves my lab'ring Breast,
A Christian's Heart would start at ev'ry Word,
And break in Pieces, like the Monster's Sword,

O Providence ! Nature and Sense complain,
That Vice triumphs, and Vertue works in Vain,
Shall hellish Hands, smoaking with impious Lust;
Be rais'd, to the Distruction of the Just :
Hath Heav'n no Flames, to burn the Wretch's Head ?
Hath she no Thunder-bolt to strike him dead ?
Swimming in Blood, must the poor Lady lie,
And he a cursed Fiend have Feet to flie ?

But Providence is just, and we are blind ;
When we think Heav'n severe, then Heav'n's most kind.
Murmures be hush'd: Are not the Vertuous blest ?
There is another Life, there's an eternal Rest.
Tho' Villany on Earth triumphant reigns,
It leads to Horrour,   and eternal Chains,
Vertue shoots up, on th' other Side the Grave ;
There an eternal Spring, the Vertuous have ;
Tho' Vice triumphs, and Villany may crow ;
Yet still Sin works the Sinner's Overthrow.
Sin shakes the Conscience, doth its Peace controul;
And with amazing Horrour fills the Soul.
A thousand Devils in the Conscience dwell,
Scarce in the other World, they feel a greater Hell,
The Sinner plays his Game, O Sinners, then,
Ye Sons of Reason, quit your selves like Men.
Man may become a new, and noble Creature;
For Grace allays the Storms and Appetites of Nature ;
Rise in the Strength of Faith, and run the Race      
'Till JESUS shew his reconciled Face,                     
And you feel Blossoms of the Divine Grace.            
Renunce a peevish World, and all its Pelf,            
And make a generous Conquest of your Self.
Then Death in whatsoever Shape it comes,
Will waft us sweetly to our heav'nly Homes ;
And set us free from Passion's furious Strife,         
And all the Storms of a tempestuous Life,      
Storms, which fell heavy on this vertuous wife.


HEre lies inter'd,
A Lady in her Prime of Age,
Found reeking in her Gore,
Stain by a Tygar Husband's Rage,
Whose Death all Men deplore.

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Probable date published: 1723   shelfmark: RB.l.106(085)
Broadside entitled 'Elegy'
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