Lamentation in the Name of the Kirk of Scotland, Poem – Poems

Lamentation in the Name of the Kirk of Scotland · Poem – Poems

THE BLACK BASTEL, OR, A LAMENTATION IN NAME of the Kirk of SSCOTLAND, compoſed by M. Iames Melvil, when he was confined at Berwick anno 1611. Abridged by N.

Remember therefore from whence thou art fallen, and repent, and do the firſt works, or elſe I will come unto thee quickly, and will remove thy candleſtick out of his place, except thou repent. Rev. 2.5.

Fear none of thoſe things which thou shalt ſuffer: behold, the devil shall caſt ſome of you into priſon, that yee may be tried, and yee shall hauehave tribulation ten dayes, be thou faithful unto death, and I will giuegive thee a crowne of life. Verſ. 10.

But I hauehave a few things againſt thee, becauſe thou haſt there them that hold the doctrine of Balaam, who taught Balac to caſt a ſtumbling block before the children of Iſrael, to eate things ſacrificed unto idols, and to commit fornication. Verſ. 14.

THE BLACK BASTEL.

THe thouſand yeare, ſix hundred & eleven.

When as the Sun entred in Sagittarie,

Orion riſing in the eaſt of heaven,

Diana's court then Gemini did carie,

And Ioue in the Meridian did tarie,

Saturne ſeverely rolling o're the night,

Mars, Venus, Hermes bringing home the light.

The aire was cold, but calme, no cloud in sky,

The fields all white, and the great Ocean ſtill;

Yet the hard froſt making the ground as dry,

I quickly ſtir'd my ſelfe to walk at will

Along the ſhore; at length I came untill

A braue white place, where had ben built a caſtel,

And commonly is called, the Black Baſtell.

I took me to a caue where was ſome hay,

The mouth whereof lay open to the Sun,

There did I reſt me warme, as into May:

And after ſome deep meditation,

I ſtept, and thought I ſaw a viſion,

A ſight which griev'd me at the heart right ſore,

And unto death will ever more and more.

A woman of moſt comely countenance▪

With farded face, and gariſh in attire,

A crown of glaſſe upon her head did glance,

Her clothes were colour'd contrare her deſire▪

A heavie yoke upon her neck and lyre,

Of Reed a ſcepter in her hand ſhe boore,

Rich in attire, yet ſilly, leane, and poore.

Rais'd up on high upon a royall Throne,

Did awfull ſit aboue the womans head,

Commanding everie thing for to be done,

As pleaſed him, a rampand Lyon red:

This Lyon craftie Foxes two did lead,

…ow 14.And round about him thirteen wolues did dance

To keep her ſheep, whom he was to advance.

Her ſheepheards all in hundreds ſtood near by,

With dog & ſtaffe, who ſomtime bold had been,

But now were careleſſe, though they heard her cry,

And uſed juſt like to a captiue Queen;

Her heavie caſe ſome few in heart did meen,

But could not helpe, ſo many couch'd for feare

Of Wolfe and Lyon, or were ſnar'd with geare.

Her Torches, Tapers, Candles were put out,

And none there was that durſt renew their light:

Great flocks of ſheep lay folded round about,

Well pluck'd and clipped bare into my ſight,

If once on them ſhe caſt her eyes full bright,

The Wolues to yell, the Lyon fell to roare,

Which did affright that Ladies heart full ſore.

VponUpon a table ſpr… … green,

Did lye two bookes, all … gilt, but cloſed,

That not one word within them might be ſeen:

For mens conceits were then to be impoſed,

And that no good occaſion might bee loſed,

Me thought aſſembly ſummon'd was & called,Glaſgow aſſembly 1610.

Of huble buble ſheepheards hir'd and thralled.

Apes, horſes, hounds met there, with many a rod,

The Leopard with aromatick ſmell,Du…bar.

As Lyons great Lieutenant with his nod,

And mangled ſpeech, the Lyons will could tell,

Fenced the court, threatned if any mell

With matters there, but as he had directed,

That they ſhould rue, & ſoundly be corrected.

Then ſtood there up a Wolfe all clad in ſilk,Spoiſ…

A Wolfe indeed, yet liſping like a Lambe,

And made a ſermon all of wooll and milk,

To move the ſheepheards hired for the ſame,

Conſent the Lyon there ſhould win the game.

Cauſing all beaſts and ſheep for to beleeue,

Nought could be done without the lyons leaue.

And then forſooth the Wolfs muſt be advanced,

Seeing it was the Lyons will and pleaſure:

To ſheep no greater curſe there could hauehave chance…

Yet did the Lyon like them out of meaſure,

His royall crowne, his dignitie and treaſure,

Without ſuch ſtateſmen could not ſtable ſtand,

Nor could he freely reigne within the land.

With one conſent the beaſts about applauded,

None of the ſheepheards there would cōtradict,

For hirelings rents the Lyon was collauded,

No limitation, threatning was ſo thick:

Some for to ſay intended ſick and ſick,

But fear and geare, and falſhood all convoyed,

And ſo the Lyon what he would enjoyed.

The dogs ſhal have their wonted cotes in cure,

The wolfs aboue the dogs high ſhal be placed,

To make the Lyons crown ſtand firm and ſure.

This being done, & wolfs thus greatly graced,

Reel'd to and fro till they had all defaced.

The wofull woman in her bitter paſſion,

Powr'd out with tears this heavie lamentation.

I was of late a Queen of great renowne,

My fame was ſpred abroad all Europe through,

In everie province, and in everie towne,

I was well ſerved both in land and Burgh.

No perſon high or low, ſo rude, ſo rough,

My lawes or precepts raſhly vilipended.

All ſtood ſuch aw that I ſhould be offended.

Through all the land my congregations

For to behold it was an heavenly ſight,

The like whereof was not in other nations,

Such lively force, and ſuch a lampe of light,

Such evidence of all ſpirituall might,

By divine doctrine throwing down the proud,

And feeding hungry ſouls with healthfull food

A thunderbolt from pulpit, as from heaven,

You ſhould have heard a fearful noiſe to make,

By force whereof a hard heart rent and riven,

The ſtubburn ſinners ſtallward ſtomake quake,

The members tremble, and the head to ake.

With ſuch a ſhout when doctrine was applied,

As would have made the ſtouteſt courage flied.

Thus knocked firſt my Knox, and terrified

The Zanzummins, and all the hounds of hell,

My Lowſon, Craig, and Durie magnified

That meſſage which did ſcarre all fiendes fell,

My Bruce, my Rollock with a heavenly ſmell

Of fervent zeale and true ſanctification,

Perfum'd the hearts of many in that nation.

My Presbytries had ſuch a comely order,

That all light Levits, and the lewdeſt limmer,

Either in Hieland, or the utmoſt border,

Did them regard: yet was it not farre trimmer,

When Synods met in winter and in ſummer?

Try'd Presbytries, and if peradventure,

Ought was amiſſe, redreſt it by their cenſure.

My generall aſſemblies terrible,

Like to an armie with diſplayed Banners.

Control'd all were incorrigible

In lower Synods for their vitious manners,

With care ſuppreſſed all corrupt explainers

Of Scriptures; Papiſts, and all heretickes

Were curbed, and contending Schiſmatickes.

With wine & honey did my Schools ore-flow.

When Melvil and his fellows had the charge,

Then did the youth in zeal and learning grow,

From thence I had Barjona and Boanerge,

When ſhepheards ſtipēds were not half ſo large,

Such were prefer'd as rightly were affected,

But Dogs & Swine, if known, were all rejected.

That lownes are now made Lords my heart it galls,

Worthies exiled, & the worſt rewarded,

To ſee falſe knaves to governe, ſore me thralls,

The grave and godly not to be regarded:

I mocked am while they me thus have farded,

My gold in glaſſe, my ſearge is turn'd in ſcarlet,

Not like my ſelfe, but like to Babels harlot.

My crown and ſolid ſcepter they hauehave re…t me,

And dreſt me up in bruckle glaſſe and reed,

And reſt the rights wherwith my king infe…t me

Without the which my flock I cannot feed

As it becometh, with that heavenly bread.

They hauehave upon me laid this heavie yoke

Of bite-ſheep Biſhops, as I were a ſtocke.

This ſtūbling-block hath made frō heaven to tumble

Some ſeeming ſtars, & made thē change their tongue,

My weakling hogs & lambs are made to ſtūble,

Paſtors to hear from point to point impugne,

That which before as truth from pulpits rung,

Are ſo offended, that in their hearts they murn,

Caſt ſo in doubt, they know not where to turn.

Never was nation ſo ſolemnly ſworne,

VnderUnder the pain of fearfull condemnation,

To diſcipline defend, which now with ſcorn,

Is tramped under foot with fierce oppreſſion.

For perfidie, and for ſuch foul defection,

I am ſo ſtoniſht that I cannot ſtand

For horrour, but do tremble foot and hand.

Prayer and preaching are they not prophan'd,

And hireling paſtors love to live at eaſe,

Sinceritie and zeale all where diſdain'd,

Who is not luke-warm nick-nam'd is preciſe,

Or not conform unto the Kirks decrees.

Say libertines, althogh their cauſe be wrongous,

The rod is rent wherwith before they dang us.

O that my people their apoſtaſie

Would yet perceive, & ſeek to God their guide,

Would yet confeſſe their vile hypocriſie,

Foreſee at laſt what ſhall at length betide,

Flouriſh ſhall poperie in its greateſt pride.

This is but doubt the foretold day of tryall:

Lord ſave thine own from filthy foule denyall.

Conſider, Lord, with pittie, my complaint,

My glore is gone, I mourn for Elies fall,

And captive ark, I wiſh my life were ſpent.

Gone are the great aſſemblies generall,

And few, or none, for their return do call.

The holy veſſels are carri'd far away,

Wolfe, hogge and dogge do what they pleaſe or may.

Me to comfort there is none of my lovers,

My friends are fled, and look to me a farre;

Yea many of them are become reprovers,

They turn aſide, and glance on me a skarre,

And ſome, like barking dogs, begin to gnarre,

By craft, by coin, by Kings authoritie,

What pleaſes men, is brought to paſſe on me.

I cry as if I felt ſome ſharp inciſion,

When I beholde the preſent miſerie,

I cry as if there were ſome great diviſion

Into my bones, with pain to torment me.

Wilde Boars and ſwine dwell in the ſanctuarie

Even baſtard Biſhops, worſe than Moabites.

And more malicious than the Ammonites.

Like ſubtile foxes they have entred in.

Pretending me to honour and enrich,

Wild wolfs well wrapped in a weathers skin,

Have dealt by craft till I fell in the ditch:

Now on my belly they their tents do pitch,

And reign like lyons o're my ſheepe and hogs.

Convert them Lord, or let them die like dogs.

My candleſtick is like to be removed

For ſins of Paſtors and of Congregations,

Which thee, ô Lord, have unto wrath cōmoved;

And have brought on theſe fearfull deſolations,

Paſtors for gain and glore have left their ſtations.

Their wealth and honour is not worth a louſe,

If Chriſt with grace be baniſht from the houſe.

Are theſe the fruits, O Scotland, of thy field?

Are theſe the grapes of ſuch a glorious vine?

Are theſe the captains caſt away their ſhields?

Are theſe the ſouldiers vowd their lives to tine?

I am aſhamed that they are call'd mine.

They feeble are, I cannot ſay bewitched,

That thus do faint & flee, when ſcarſly touched

It is well ſeen the daſtard ſpirit of ſlaverie

Hath made thee for to quite thy libertie,

It is well ſeen the craftie ſpirit of knaverie

Hath ſpoyld thee of thy magnanimitie,

And brought thee under this ſervilitie.

No Kirk ſo glorious was in any land,

But now it ſeemes it builded was on ſand.

Wilt thou return to beaſtly Babylon?

Wilt thou returne againe to Egypt land?

Wilt thou forſake thy holy mount Sion?

And joyne thy ſelf unto that curſed band?

Shall Antichriſt thus have the upper hand,

And all my faithfull ſervants never ſee

Returne againe their late captivitie?

Then wiſh I Lord, that thou ſhouldſt make my head

A running well, whoſe waters ever grow,

Or that mine eyes were zetting ſpouts of lead,

Wherout my guſhing tears may ever flow;

Yea ſome great floud, where barges great may row

That aye the earth may drink my tears as raine,

And aye my eyes may make it moiſt againe.

O that I had the wings of ſome faire Doue,

That I might flee forth to the wilderneſſe,

Leſt I ſhould ſeem their doings to approue,

Or beare with ſuch profeſſed wickedneſſe;

But ſince (alas) I can it not redreſſe,

I will go hence, and hide me in ſome hill,

Or in ſome hole where I may weep my fill.

Nor will I ceaſe from ſighs, O Lord, each day,

Till of my pains thou have compaſſion,

And do repaire the breach and great decay

Of Sion, and her deſolation,

And to my mourners ſend ſome conſolation:

For I cannot permit an earthly King,

Or paughtie Prelates o're my head to reigne.

CONCLVSION.

Now certainly I thoght ſhe would have ſpended

Moe dayes and nights into her lamentation,

If that a fierie dragon had not ended

Her mournfull moan in a moſt ugly faſhion,

With horrible and fearfull perturbation,

He ſpouted flames, and troubled all the aire,

That ſhe noght ſpake, and I could hear na mair.

But ſuddenly down with a mightie hoaſt

Come MICHAEL with all his Angels cleare.

And beat him down for all his fearfull boaſt.

And carried thence with him his Ladie deare.

Sure I was put into a fellon feare,

I found me faint, come home, and yet the viſion

Made in my minde and heart a deep impreſſion.

FINIS

ANOTHER DEPLORING of late the caſe of our Kirk.

NO pleaſure of my pleaſures all,

can pleaſant be to mee,

O deareſt mother chaſt, and all

for ſhame and skaith of thee.

Mine eyes powre out ſalt ſtreames of teares,

thy thraldome to deplore,

Mine heart doth bleed, my lungs doe leap,

and all my bowels roare,

My Diademe of gold and gemmes,

which did thy head adorne,

Is thrown to ground, in place whereof

thou crowned art with thorne.

Thy coſtly chaines beſtow'd on thee,

by thy deare Spouſe and Lord,

Are quite bereft, and thy faire neck

now compaſt with a cord.

Thy royall robe embroidered faire,

and lined with Lucerve,

Is turn'd to ſacke, which to beholde

doth make my fleſh to ſterve.

Thy bracelets rich, which did of late

decore thy comely hands,

Are rent from them, and fettered faſt

into hard yron bands.

Thy golden rod chang'd in a reed.

by humane art compiled,

Thine holy Seales with papall ſtampe,

and Romiſh rites defiled.

Where faithfull preachers with Chriſts voyce,

were wont to ſound before,

Now bite-ſheepe wolves into thine eares

with uncouth howlings roare.

Arminianiſme and Papiſtrie,

now in thy pulpits ſound,

Which like a daggers deadly dint,

doth cauſe my ſtomacke ſtound.

I and my mates ſometime refreſht

with dew from heaven that rained,

Now poyſoned are with theſe fowle dregges,

from Romiſh Bitch are ſtrained.

Prince, People, Peeres, and Prelates all,

awake, awake in time,

With teares, and ſighes, and ſobbes ſtriue ſtill

to expiate this crime.

Mr. ANDREW MELVINS EPIGRAMME upon the Engliſh Altar in Latine, and tranſlated.

CVr ſtant clauſi Anglis libri duo regia in ara

lumina caeca duo, pellubra ſicca duo.

Num ſenſum cultum que Dei tenet Anglia clauſum

Lumine caeca ſuo ſorde ſepulta ſua

Romano ac ritu dum regalem inſtruit …

Purpuream pingit religioſa lupam.

The ſame in English.

ON Kingly Chappels altar ſtand,

blinde candleſtickes, clos'd bookes,

Dry ſilver baſins, two of each.

Wherefore? ſaith he who looks,

The minde and worſhip of the Lord

Dorh England ſo keep cloſe

Blinde in her ſight, and buried in

her filthineſſe and droſſe.

And while with Romane rites ſhe doth

Her kingly altar dreſſe,

Religiouſly the purpled whoore,

to trim ſhe doth profeſſe.

FINIS.

End of the text · James Melville, Lamentation in the Name of the Kirk of Scotland (1634)