Page:Elegy in memory of that valiant champion, Sir R. Grierson, late Laird of Lag, who died Dec. 23d, 1733.pdf/4

4 No man dare say he did repent,

Of the good service done to me,

For as he liv’d so did he die,

He bore my image on his brow,

My service he did still avow,

He had no other deity,

But this world, the flesh, and me;

Unto us he did homage pay,

And did us worship every day.

The thing that he delighted in,

Was that which pious folk call sin,

Adultery, whoredom, and such vice,

Such pleasures were his paradise.

To curse, to swear, and to blaspheme,

He gloried in and thought no shame;

To excess he drank beer and wine,

Till he was drunken like a swine.

No Sabbath day regarded he,

But spent it in profanity;

’Mongst other vices, as some say,

He ravish’d virgins on that day;

But that which rais'd his fame so high,

Was the good service done to me,

In bearing of a deadly feud,

’Gainst people who did pray and read,

And sought my kingdom to impair,

These were the folk he did not spare,

Any who reads the scriptures through,

I’m sure they’ll find but very few

Of my best friends that’s mentioned there,

That could with Grier of Lag compare;

Though Cain was a bloody man,

He to Lag’s latches never came,

In shedding of the blood of those,