Broadside entitled 'An Elegie'

Transcription

    AN

E L   E   G   I   E,

Upon the much to be lamented Death of Colonel S A R A, who de-

parted this Life, at Leith, the 28th. of August 1718.

HAT mournful Sound is this doth reach mine Ears,
Leith, as me thinks drown'd in a Sea of Tears ?
Awake my Muse from Sleep, secure arite,
Search out the Cause of this to strange Surprise
And after real Search I fear you'l find,
That Colonel Sarah hath this Life resign'd
The ruful Cries of Female-Sex doth seem,
The Tale's too true, no Falsisie nor Dream,
O're true indeed, I hear the Bell-man toll,

inviting to her Burial, whil'st her Soul

Is from her earthly Tabernacle fled,

Whil'st Friends lamenting, cry, Alas, she's dead.                              

She's dead, o're true, who was a real Friend,

To the Poor Distrest, she oft hath Succour lend,

Pled   for the Prisoners, and hath set them free,

Still doing Good, abhoring Injurie;

True to her Country, and of Courage Bold,

Hating the cursed Bribery of Gold,

Back'd with her White-head Regiment without Fear,

Mongst Parliaments she boldly could appear,

Tell them her Mind, and what she thought was best,

For Scotland's Good, so ruin'd and distrest,

Abhorring secret Thist ; at her Command,

Ready to sail, Ships have been made to stand,

Where in the Staff of Life, the best of Meal,

Which they abroad resolved were to steal ;

For Greed of Gain,   whilst our own poor might sterve,

She justly serv'd them, as they did deserve,

Stood judge her self, and Caus'd the same be sold,

To Leith's own Folk, for Succour, not for Gold.

Likewise our Wool from underneath their Deck,

She brought a Shoar, and did the same protect,

Whilst they, poor Rogues, look'd as their Nose had bled,

And from her Presence, took their Heels and fled.

Her Schepter was a Rock into her Hand,

With Silver Bars, wherewith she did command.

Her Loyal White head Regiment, who were ready,

At each Malverse, for to attend their Lady:

But ah alas !   me thinks I see them weeping,

Whilst she in Death's cold Arms, hes asleeping

Unto the Poor, an Hundred Merks she leaves,

Likewise to Friends, who for her Loss sore grieves

Me thinks, I see the White-heads at her Spoaks,                                 

With hung down Heads their wary Footsteps takes,

With Hearts of Grief they carry her to Grave,

Who was their Captain and their Colonel brave.   

EPITAPH,                  

HERE lyes a Female of the Common Sort,
Who of her Sex deserves a good Report,                     

Tho' in the Grave her Body now doth ly,            

Her Name upon the Wings of Fame shall fly,               

No Loyal Margaret can with her compare,                  

Nor Glasgow's White-head Captain thought so Rare.
Her Name shall last while Leith remains a Town,
And Edinburgh will talk of her Renown,                                             

To fill her Place, I scarcely know a Wife                     

So sp'rity active, and so full of   Life.                                             

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