EPITAPH WRITTEN BY ARCHIBALD, 9th EARL
OF ARGYLE, UPON HIMSELF.
Thou Passenger, that shalt have so much time
To view my grave, and ask what was my crime,—
No stain of error, no black vice’s brand,
Was that which chas’d me from my native land.
Love to my country,—twice sentenced to die,—
Constrained my hands forgotten arms to try.
More by friends’ fraud my fall proceeded hath
Than foes, tho’ now they thrice decreed my death.
On my attempt, tho’ providence did frown,
His oppress’d people God at length shall own.
Another hand, by more successful speed,
Shall raise the remnant, bruise the serpent’s head.
Tho‘ my head fall, that is no tragick story,
Since going hence, I enter endless glory.