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AN
ELEGY
IN MEMORY OF
SIR ROBERT GRIERSON,
OF LAG.
WHAT fatal news is this I hear?
On earth who shall my standard bear?
For Lag who was my champion brave,
Is dead and now laid in his grave.
The want of him in a great grief;
⟨He was⟩ my manager and chief
Who fought my kingdom to promove,
And to my laws he had great love.
Could such a furious fiend as I
Shed tears my cheeks would never dry;
But I could mourn both night and day,
'Cause Lag from earth is ta'en away.
It is no wonder I am sad
A better friend I never had.
Through all the large tract of his time,
He never did my ways decline:
He was my trusty constant liege,
Who at all times did me oblige;
But now what shall I think or say?
By death at last he's a'en away.
He was a man of meikle zeal,
Who in my service did not fail:
He was no coward to relent;
