







 
   
     
       
         To the memorie of the much honoured, and much lamented Thomas Robertson bailie and builder of Edinburgh; who departed this life; September 22. 1686. A funeral elegie. / N: Paterson.
         Paterson, Ninian, d. 1688.
      
       
         
           1686
        
      
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         ESTC R181531
         51784603
         ocm 51784603
         175012
         
           
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             To the memorie of the much honoured, and much lamented Thomas Robertson bailie and builder of Edinburgh; who departed this life; September 22. 1686. A funeral elegie. / N: Paterson.
             Paterson, Ninian, d. 1688.
          
           1 sheet ([1] p.)
           
             Printed by J: Reid.,
             Edinburgh, :
             [1686]
          
           
             Caption title.
             Imperfect: creased, with some loss of text.
             Date of publication from text.
             Reproduction of original in: National Library of Scotland.
          
        
      
    
     
       
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         eng
      
       
         
           Robertson, Thomas, d. 1686 -- Death and burial -- Poetry.
           Elegiac poetry, Scottish -- Early works to 1800.
           Broadsides -- Scotland -- 17th century
        
      
    
     
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           To
           the
           Memorie
           of
           the
           much
           Honoured
           ,
           And
           much
           Lamented
           THOMAS
           ROBERTSON
           BAILIE
           and
           BUILDER
           of
           EDINBVRGH
           ;
           Who
           Departed
           this
           Life
           ;
           
             September
             22.
             1686.
             
          
        
         
           A
           Funeral
           ELEGIE
           .
        
         
           THis
           World
           's
           a
           boiling
           Gulf
           of
           Griefs
           and
           Fears
           ,
        
         
           Where
           We
           have
           still
           occasion
           of
           new
           Tears
           ;
        
         
           Still
           something
           that
           molests
           us
           ,
           whence
           we
           know
        
         
           Heaven
           cannot
           be
           possessed
           here
           below
           .
        
         
           What
           Heart
           ?
           but
           that
           of
           Adamant
           ,
           can
           hear
           ,
        
         
           Not
           making
           Eyes
           ,
           pay
           Tribute
           to
           his
           Ear
           ;
        
         
           That
           THOMAS
           ROBERTSON
           is
           dead
           !
           a
           Fate
           ,
        
         
           Which
           sounds
           just
           like
           the
           downfall
           of
           a
           State
           ;
        
         
           Or
           some
           great
           Monarch
           ,
           who
           with
           awful
           Hand
        
         
           Did
           sway
           a
           Scepter
           ,
           both
           o're
           Sea
           and
           Land.
        
         
           Who
           was
           a
           Father
           unto
           all
           in
           need
           ,
        
         
           On
           whom
           Ten
           Thousand
           did
           depend
           for
           Bread.
        
         
           Another
           Abraham
           whose
           Vertues
           vie
           ,
        
         
           With
           all
           the
           Lights
           that
           twinckles
           in
           the
           Skie
           ;
        
         
           So
           that
           our
           Fancie
           is
           opprest
           with
           Glorie
           ,
        
         
           That
           fill'd
           our
           Eyes
           with
           Wonder
           ,
           Tongues
           with
           Storie
           .
        
         
           He
           did
           attain
           to
           Fortunatus
           Purse
           ,
        
         
           And
           Amaltheas
           Horn
           ,
           without
           a
           curse
           .
        
         
           Yea
           when
           his
           Prosperous
           Spring-tides
           did
           prevail
           ,
        
         
           His
           Barge
           was
           never
           burdened
           with
           sail
           :
        
         
           Such
           unambitious
           Looks
           he
           did
           advance
           ,
        
         
           As
           could
           have
           put
           Pride
           out
           of
           countenance
           .
        
         
           And
           with
           the
           Product
           of
           his
           Heavenly
           Stock
           ,
        
         
           He
           succour'd
           all
           on
           wheel
           of
           Fortune
           broke
           .
        
         
           And
           did
           imploy
           in
           Building
           Thousand
           Hands
           ,
        
         
           Such
           Monuments
           ,
           as
           to
           Amazment
           stands
           ;
        
         
           Where
           Beauty
           mixt
           with
           Strength
           ,
           doth
           so
           comply
        
         
           To
           serve
           at
           once
           the
           Viewers
           Use
           ,
           and
           Eye
           :
        
         
           Like
           wise
           Seths
           Pillars
           ,
           which
           have
           solid
           stood
        
         
           From
           Age
           to
           Age
           ,
           spite
           of
           a
           threatning
           Flood
           .
        
         
           That
           to
           the
           Worlds
           last
           end
           there
           shall
           be
           known
        
         
           No
           Builder
           like
           to
           THOMAS
           ROBERTSON
           ;
        
         
           Whose
           glorious
           Character
           for
           ever
           is
           ;
        
         
           He
           turned
           Dung-hills
           into
           Palaces
           .
        
         
           With
           all
           that
           Cost
           and
           Cunning
           Beautified
           ,
        
         
           That
           adds
           to
           State
           ,
           and
           nothing
           wants
           but
           Pride
           .
        
         
           All
           which
           within
           the
           Skies
           their
           heads
           do
           shroud
           ,
        
         
           As
           they
           would
           ease
           great
           Atlas
           of
           his
           load
           .
        
         
           But
           this
           was
           not
           our
           Hero's
           chief
           Renown
           ;
        
         
           That
           he
           Inrich'd
           and
           Beautified
           the
           Town
           .
        
         
           Nay
           more
           within
           his
           Glorious
           building
           falls
           ,
        
         
           For
           he
           erected
           Men
           ,
           as
           well
           as
           Walls
           ;
        
         
           And
           like
           a
           Solon
           when
           a
           Magistrate
           ,
        
         
           By
           Law
           and
           Building
           both
           preserv'd
           our
           State.
        
         
           And
           with
           a
           Sumptuous
           ,
           Free
           Magnificence
           ,
        
         
           Made
           Donatives
           both
           to
           the
           State
           and
           Prince
           .
        
         
           So
           that
           some
           Learned
           Bard
           to
           come
           shall
           sing
           ,
        
         
           He
           was
           a
           Subject
           could
           oblidge
           a
           King.
        
         
           Nay
           he
           oblidg'd
           the
           Age
           ,
           who
           left
           behind
        
         
           Live
           Characters
           of
           his
           Heroick
           Mind
           ,
        
         
           Six
           Generous
           Models
           of
           himself
           whose
           Name
        
         
           Are
           both
           the
           Wonder
           and
           Discourse
           of
           F●●●
        
         
           He
           with
           his
           Lovelie
           Mate
           from
           the
           first
           Start
        
         
           Of
           Hymens
           bond
           ,
           ran
           Heart
           still
           yoak'd
           in
           Heart
           .
        
         
           Inflam'd
           alike
           with
           that
           Soul-Melting
           Fire
           ,
        
         
           That
           their
           two
           Souls
           joined
           still
           in
           one
           Desire
           ;
        
         
           Their
           house
           a
           Temple
           was
           where
           Prayer
           and
           Praise
           ,
        
         
           Did
           Blesse
           their
           nights
           ,
           and
           sanctifie
           their
           Dayes
        
         
           Which
           Prayers
           ,
           and
           Alms
           unto
           Eternitie
        
         
           With
           GOD
           ,
           and
           Man
           embalms
           his
           Memorie
           ;
        
         
           Since
           like
           old
           Enoch
           ,
           he
           to
           Blesse
           is
           gone
           ,
        
         
           I'ts
           not
           his
           Death
           ,
           but
           his
           Translation
           .
        
         
           Why
           then
           should
           we
           accompt
           his
           Gain
           our
           Losse
           ?
        
         
           Heavens
           hath
           the
           Gold
           ,
           the
           Earth
           contains
           his
           Drosse
           .
        
         
           Non
           domus
           sed
           hospitium
           corpus
           est
           ,
           brevem
           omnino
           moram
           si
           cum
           AEternitate
           comparetur
           trahimus
           .
           Quod
           si
           domesticae
           calamitatis
           vulnere
           afflicti
           ,
           imis
           sensibus
           reponant
           ,
           dolorem
           leniet
           .
        
         
           Crucius
           .
        
         
           Intervallis
           distinguimur
           ,
           exitu
           aequamur
           .
        
         
           Seneca
           .
        
         
           
             Vitae
             summa
             brevis
             spem
             nos
             vetat
          
           
             inchoare
             longam
             .
          
           
             Hora
             fugit
             ,
             rapido
             volvuntur
             tempora
             lapsu
             ;
          
           
             Singulus
             accelerat
             Fata
             suprema
             dies
             :
          
           
             Vitae
             damna
             brevis
             ,
             decus
             immortale
             rependit
             ;
          
           
             Effugit
             ardentes
             posthuma
             fama
             Rogos
             .
          
        
         
           N
           :
           Paterson
           .
        
      
    
     
       
         
           Edinburgh
           ,
           Printed
           by
           
             J
             :
             Reid
          
           .
        
      
    
  

