He spoke his Master's name, his words, and wounds,
Then stretch'd and soar'd beyond times narrow bounds,
To speak his praise in more majestic sounds.
His soul expanding her immortal wings,
Lost by degrees the sight of mortal things.
With him once conjunct in the past'ral chair,
We saw the Gospel-herald, worthy MAIR,
Constrain❜d his wonted theme to supersede,
And from the pulpit, o'er the hearse to bleed,
And blaze abroad the praises of the dead.
Declaring "by his death that day there fell,
"A great man; yea, a prince in Israel."
See now, though yet the colours dark appear,
The picture of the famous CUTHBERT here.
My pencil having drawn but half the man,
Must leave unfinish'd what it rash began.
These honour'd with his converse once will find
His livelier image pictur'd on their mind.
We see him fall, and to augment the moan,
The great, the grave, judicious BOSTON gone,*
Who oncet, like Athanasius bold, stood firm alone.
Whose golden pent to future times will bear
His fame, till in the clouds his Lord appear.
With him blest HOGG, the venerable sage,
The humble witness 'gainst the haughty age,
Was swept, with other worthies, off th unworthy stage.
But thus if Horsemen and Commanders die,
How can, alas! the Infantry but fly?
We dread our fine new Lights the Church enthrall, When former glorious Luminaries fall.
But, hark! are now these bright and stately forms
A despicable prey to greedy worms?
True! but, behold their better part survives,
And Zion's glorious KING for ever lives.
* He died on Saturday, May 20, 1732.
Viz. In the affair of Professor SIMSON at the General Assembly, anno 1729.
Meaning his excellent writings that were corrected by himself for the press,
Celebritas et quibus pollebat, dotes, oblivione deleantur, sequentis quoque Elogii centuriam linearum (aptis quorundam Authorum phrasibus hic illic interspersis) adjicere, visum.
In Memoriam Viri celeberrimi Domini JACOBI CUTHBERT Pastoris non ita pridem Culrossensis.
FUNERA CUTHBERTI, Borea sub sidere nati,
Scotigeni Jubaris, Scotia moesta canat.
Te tamen ante omnes decet, ah! Fifana Camæna,
Fundere stabilibus carmina grata modis:
Vim cui contulerat Paulina panoplia sancta
Edis enim nostræ decidit hoc columen.
Moribus, Ingenio, Doctrina elarus et Arte,
Hæc reliqua in terris sunt monumenta sui :
Quodque mori potuit quamvis nunc marcet in urna,
Fama, Decus, Virtus intemerata virent.
Sæpe mihi luctus, mors invidia, causa fuisti;
Mersisti teneras sæpius imbre genas.
Sæpe suos flevit Respublica nostra parentes,
Hostili quondam qui cecidere nece:
At vix ulla fuit tam justi causa doloris,
Scotia, CUTHBERTO despoliata tuo.
Ornabat patriam nuper, templumque relictum,
Nec superest, tantis mens cumulata bonis.
Nunquam vidi ullum, se præter, (parcite docti)
Quem pariter potui dicere doctiloquum.
Multorum volitatque per ora loquacibus alis
Vir semel hic lucens, sol velut in tenebris-:
Cujus honorandæ voces oracla fuere,
Omnimode docti pectoris indicia :
Et merito, os cujus tam grata lavamina fudit,
In memorum annales hicce relatus inest.
Rebus in humanis humanior haud fuit alter,
Rebus et in divis divior alter ubi?
Assertor fidei quo vix nervosior ullus,
Corrector selerum, malleos hæresium.
Christique infestos, ut murus aheneus, hostes
Voce sacri late fudit Evangelii.
Sic rudium validas in viscere vertere vires
Mos erat, ut docuit, dummodo vel domuit
Litigiosa cohors, coram hoc Domitore diserto,
Tollere depressum non fuet ausa caput.
Ingenium Musæ, mores vis enthea, mentem
Excoluit pietas, oraques delicæ.
Hic bilaráns hilaris qui miscuit utile dulci,
Seria jucundis, omnia puncta tulit.
Dotibus eximiis Comitis, Pastoris, Amici,
Vix magis ornatum protulit ulla dies;
Ne dotes natura omnes conferret in unum.
Quæque aliis tribuat, dona nec ulla forent
Mors veruit; propero carnis pede vencla resolvens.
Quot decorum cumulos, hu! brevis hora rapit?
Non vigor ingenii, lepidæ non gratia linguæ.
Non probitas potuit pellere tela necis.
Quem redamant omnes, omnes abiisse dolebant,
Quantus amor cunctis, tantus iisque dolor.
Nomen adhuc redolens quadam dulcedine cunctos
Mulset, et immemores non sinit esse sui.
Lychnus Evangelii fulgens, verique perennis
Præco pius, comptus, magnanimusque fuit.
Dogmata sacra Dei, mysteria condita Christi
Exposuit docto, perspicuoque stylo.
Abdita enim pandit Deus huic penetralia regni,
Amplaque domino munera clausa sinu.
Quæ priscos latuere Sophos, latuere recentes,
Condi hujus voluit pectore cuncta Deus.
Cælitus hæc didicitquæ terricolis patefecit,
Nunc cum cœlicolis quæ patefacit habet.
Concio jam melior" Celestia gaudia prenso,
"His modo cum Domino perpete pace fruor.
"Cur ita legendum? plamam fero, morte sepulta,
"Lætor apud superos, mollitor ossa cubant."
At non te flemus superis, CUTHBERTE, receptum,
Ploramus nostram te removente vicem.
Arma sacræ quo nunc ædis victricia vecta,
Jam domitam, Dominus ni juvet ipse, dumum?
En! BOSTON celebris, simul HOGG venerabilis, insons,
Terrea nunc superant, cælico tecta colunt :
Insuper amotæ præcoci morte calumnæ
Signant quam subito sit peritura domus.
Omnibus tantis percellimur haud sine causa
Hinc timidi mostos orbis addesse dies.
Stirpe priore, gemens Ecclesia Scotiqua lanquet,
Vi CUTHBERTINA proh! spoliata sua.
Ex Barathro (quid nunc obstat?) vis hostica furum
Surgit, et insidias hic et ubique struit.
Invidus enque hostis laqueos, incendia, cruces
Aptat, et innocuo valnera mille gregi.
Sola potest tam patientia vincere cladem.
Nec nisi de superis sedibus illa venit.
Verus amor puro ex credentis pectore manans
Per mala tot, CHRISTO Principe victor erit.
Vivida vis mentis, geniique potentis acumen
Nunc tua, CUTHBERTE, belica tela desunt
Mors clausit placido languentia lumina somno,
Gaudia cum superis mens sine fine bibit.
Quo tua vaserunt dictamina nectare plena,
Mens generosa volat, labraque lætifica?
Quæ potuit cautes Hebetes animare loquendo
Hei! modo sub tenebris, lingua diserte silet.
Quam procul hic fugit tua prompta facundia fandi,
Candor et integritat, inviolata fides?
Solers tam sapiens non quovis nascitur anno,
Osque virile vibrans cum pietate pari.
Vivis in hac ima, præclarro nomine, terra;
Spiritus in summo vivit ovatque polo.
Funeral Poem,
ON THE MUCH LAMENTED PESTU OF THAT FIQUS BERSON,
THE REV. MR PATRICK PLENDERLIETH,
MINISTER OF THE GOSPEL AT SALINE &
Who died anno 1715. Written at the Desire of some of his Friends.
DISSOLVE in tears, ye bright seraphic fires,
If sorrow can have place in heav'nly quires;
Men's eyes unable are enough to shed;
A juster wound the world bath seldom bred:
Behold a gracious plant, for fruit, for flow'r ;
A noble saint for zeal, for truth, for pow'r;
A peerless gem for virtue, proof, and price;
On earth a friend to truth, a foe to vice:
And, lo! alas! this piece of heav'n doth die;
The case might make the very stones to ery.
O death! why tyrannisest in thy might?
Why so severe, to strike so choice a wight?
Why let'st out of the ark a Noah's dove,
While many hearts were arks unto his love?
Hath death a pow'r to break affection's loek,
And steal the darling of the little flock?
Nay, sure; what's lov'd to-day, can die to-morrow;
What's dead to love is still alive to sorrow.
This man of God still lives, and lodging hath
In grateful memories, in spite of death,
He lives not only now above the skies,
But lives on earth in tears of many eyes.
Zeal, mildness, grace gave air unto his breath:
And hence his savour liveth after death.
His walk, his worship, were of divine stamp;
His doctrine, practice, all a burning lamp.
His life all light and heat, fed from above;
His lips all fervour, and his heart all love:
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