Lines Written in the Year 1792, Under an Advertisement at the Inn of Cahier
Thy surname M AITLAND schaws thy ancient race:
Thy marcial acts the croniclis displey.
And speak thow, Justice! quhil he had thy place,
Gif justlie he thy ballance did not suey?
He was ay prest God's treuth to plant alwey,
Quho gave him lang yeirs, and a faythful wyfe.
His childerns' childrin florisch day by day.
In welth he liv'd: with honour left this lyfe.
Then thow quho knaws his birth, his lyf, his end,
May say his saul to lasting lyfe is send.
Thus may we sie none may from daith refraine;
Bot leives to die, and dies to leive againe.
We that him want may waill his daith, alace,
War not his worthie imps supplies his place.
Thy marcial acts the croniclis displey.
And speak thow, Justice! quhil he had thy place,
Gif justlie he thy ballance did not suey?
He was ay prest God's treuth to plant alwey,
Quho gave him lang yeirs, and a faythful wyfe.
His childerns' childrin florisch day by day.
In welth he liv'd: with honour left this lyfe.
Then thow quho knaws his birth, his lyf, his end,
May say his saul to lasting lyfe is send.
Thus may we sie none may from daith refraine;
Bot leives to die, and dies to leive againe.
We that him want may waill his daith, alace,
War not his worthie imps supplies his place.
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