O Almighty God! I humbly beseech Thee to bless the King, the prince, and Duke of Yorke, and all the dutiful branches of the royal family! Endue them with thy Holy Spirit, enrich them with thy heavenly grace, prosper them with all happiness and bring them to thine everlasting kingdom! Finally I recommend to thy fatherly goodness all my benefactors and all the faithful adherents to the cause for which I am now about to suffer. God reward them! Make them happy here and in the world to come! This I beg for Christ's sake, in whose words, etc. Our Father, etc. _A List of those who were evidences against my Lord Balmerino taken likewise from his own handwrit._ William M'Gie, messenger. Hugh Douglas, drummer to Lord Elcho. James Barclay. } One of these three was servant to the David Gray. } Secretary, and another of them servant James Paterson. } to little Black Malcolm. Roger Macdonald. _Upon the truly noble Lord Balmerino._ 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. _Extempore, upon viewing the scaffold immediately after the execution of Lord Balmerino._ 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. [Sidenote: _fol._ 113.] _Upon the death of Lord Balmerino, by a non-jurant clergyman in London in a letter to a friend._ 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.