Here lies the man, to Scotland ever dear, Whose honest breast ne'er felt a guilty fear. By principle, not mean self int'rest, sway'd, The victor left to bring the vanquish'd aid; His courage manly, but his words were few, Content in poverty, and own'd it too. In life's last scene with dignity appears, Not for himself, but for his country, fears; Pities the graceful partner of his fall, And nobly wishes he might die for all. Ev'n enemies, convinc'd, his worth approv'd: [Sidenote: _fol._ 404.] He fell admir'd, lamented, and belov'd. _The above turned into the form of an Inscription._ Here lies ARTHUR, Lord BALMERINO, Whose memory will be ever dear to his country. Religiously strict and judicious in the choice Of his principles and maxims of life, With an inflexible constancy was he attached to them. He left the service of George, in which he bore some rank, To join the sinking cause of the injured James, After the woeful defeat at Dumblane. He was a man of great personal courage And remarkable modesty In a corrupted age, asham'd of nothing but want. He bore unmerited poverty with a Roman greatness of soul. In the closing scene of life He behaved with surprizing dignity, Expressing a warm regard for his unhappy country And vindicating his own honour and that of the injured Charles P. Feelingly he express'd a generous concern for his companion, And nobly wish'd he alone might suffer for the cause. He triumphed over calumny, silenced his enemies Struck with admiration at his uncommon intrepidity, And fell admired, lamented, esteemed by all. _Upon the same._ Here Arthur lies, the rest forbear; There may be treason in a tear. Yet this bold soger may find room Where scepter'd tyrants dare not come. [Sidenote: _fol._ 405.] _Upon the death of Sir Alexander MacDonald,[181] etc._ [181] See f. 1829, where these lines are repeated. If Heav'n be pleas'd when sinners cease to sin; If Hell be pleas'd when sinners enter in; If earth be pleas'd to lose a truckling knave; Then all are pleas'd--MacDonald's in his grave. _Spoken extempore on Lovat's Execution, by a lover of all those who will and dare be honest in the worst of times._ None but the hangman, Murray,[182] or some tool, Could from his heart say Lovat was a fool. Yet ev'ry coxcomb will explain and teach The chain of causes that surpass his reach. When soft Kilmarnock,[183] trembling, came to bleed, He fell a traitor and a wretch indeed. His coward soul the canting preacher awes, He weeps and dies a rebel to the cause. 'Twas hope of pardon; 'twas fanatick fear; And none but Hanoverians dropt a tear.