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 Th' Antiquity which other Nations boat,

Would here turn Modern, and in age be lot.

Scotland in Senior Glory will contend,

When lame Chronology with Age grows blind.

Here mighty Ancetors preerve their Stile,

From long Precription, ancient as the Ile.

Not rai'd on Party Favour, Bribes and Fear,

Blood, Tyranny, Oppreion, Theft and War;

Not raid by trength OF FACE, or trength of Pure,

A Stock of Money, or a Stock that's wore;

But from the Youth of Time, their Names remain,

When Vertue only could that Fame obtain.

Back, further back than Story can relate,

When Infant Nations fix'd their Forms of State.

When Tricks of State and Court Intreague unknown,

No mighty Knave could Brother Villain Crown.

From Blood to Blood their Violence purue,

Firt teal their Honours, then proclaim 'em due.

By Fraud and trong Oppreions Crowns obtain,

While thoe upport the Frauds, and thee the Reign;

Alternate Violences Fame upply,

The modern Fund of mean Nobility.

If there be any thing in Birth and Blood,

Or were Antiquity but undertood;

If the old Trophies of our Fathers Fame,

When thoughts of Virtue burn, would fan the Flame;