The Deploratioun of the Cruel murther of James Erle
of Murray, umquhile Regent of Scotland, togidder with ane admonitioun to the Hammiltounis committaris thairof, and to all
thair Fortifearis, mantenaris, or assistance, with ane Exhortatioun to the Lordis and Nobilitie, keiparis
and defendaris of our Kingis Grace Majestie.
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QUhile as with flesche, and blude we go about,
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The wondrous warkis of God for to discrive,
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Pans quhil we pleis, we sal not find yame out
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Bot sall Judge God, aganis all ressoun strive.
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Quhen as he tholis, proude Pelours to deprive
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The lyvis from sic, as halely wes his,
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Be Cruell murther, thame reuthles for to rive
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The flesche of man can never considder this.
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Bot quha that wald the mater understand,
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He man luke lawer, and enter in the Spreit,
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And than he sall persaif, the cause fra hand,
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That God wirkis na thing, bot as a Judge discreit.
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Quhen as the pepill with sinnis ar repleit
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Without remors, as thay ar, at thir houris
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Than to that end, his plaiges be may compleit,
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He takis from thame thair godly Governouris.
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And this he usis mony sindrie sortis,
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Sumtyme be seiknes, into thair beddis to de,
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Sum slane be tratouris, bot not for thair confortis,
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Bot to that end, thay suld distroyit be.
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And rutit furth clene out of memorie,
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He tholis sic wickit, proude Conspiratouris.
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To execute thair lurking traytorie,
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And bring to deith thair godly Governouris.
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We se also the wickit of the warld,
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Still beir the godly at deidly Indignatioun,
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Sumtyme be tratouris, ar Innocentis overharld,
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And thocht trew men, haif heir bot tribulatioun.
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We suld not haif sic thingis in admiratioun,
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As gif it wer, ane new thing chansit to man,
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For sa it was, evin from the first Creatioun,
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And still hes bene, sen that this warld began.
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I. Jo. 3.
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This mortall feid, this haitrent and Invie,
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Did first begin, as Gods awin buke dois tell,
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As in the Genesis we may plainly spie,
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Betuix twa brether, Cain and Abell.
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Cain aganis his brothrr did Rebell,
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And suffeit not, to sched his saikles blude
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And for this cause, I pray zow mark it well,
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His warkis war evill, and faiehfull Abells gude.
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And of thir twa, this haill warld did discend,
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Quhilk never can, amangis thameselfis aggrie,
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Bot baith thair ofspringis may be cleirly kend,
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Curst Cains Clan, be thair Impietie.
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And Abells seid for richt and equitie,
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And thus all murtherars ar discendit doun
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Of Curst Cain, and his posteritie,
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As is the Tyrane, and Tratour Hammiltoun.
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For luke how Justice was the verray cause,
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To curst Cain, his brother for to kill,
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Sa is it zit, but dout, the only clause,
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That moves the wickit, unto thair Raging still.
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Thay gloir na thing, bot ever in to Ill,
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And makis thame ever, but mercy to maligne,
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And quhen thay may, thair wickit wayis fulfill,
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Thay will not thole, ane godly man to Rigne.
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The Probatioun heirof.
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TO preif this part, I plainly mycht propone,
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Exemplis seir, maist Notabill and trew,
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Bot for thame all, I will bot use heir one,
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Of our deir Maister, and Saviour Christ Jesew.
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In quhome na spot of sin, it never grew,
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Zit nocht theles, the bischoppis mycht not byde him,
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Quhill on a Croce, on lenth and breid him drew,
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And hangit up for spyte, twa thevis besyde him.
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For to mak mentioun of the Marterdome
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Of Gods Prophets, it wer sumthing to lang,
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And for to reckin the reuthles rage of Rome,
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Quhair sindrie godly, thay dulefullie doun dang.
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It wer prolixt, thairfoir I let thir gang,
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And to my purpois but proces mair proceid,
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How wickit men delytis ay in to wrag,
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And may not suffer to haif ane godly heid.
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Sen sa it was, that Christ baith God and man,
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With his Apostillis, and Propheits gat na rest,
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Bot ever hatit be Cain, and his clan,
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As Gods trew word dois mak it manifest.
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We suld not grude, howbeit we be opprest,
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As was our Maister, and brethrene us beforne,
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Bot be assurit it will cum for the best,
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And better to thame that thay had never bene borne.
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I mene not heir, that thay suld pas unpunissit,
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For thair trespas, nor never sic thing thocht,
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For than suld Justice and Law be clene diminissit
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Gif thay war spairit, this wickit wark hes wrocht.
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That our gude gyde to bailfull beir hes brocht,
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Lat us assemble thairfoir with curage stout,
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And lat thay tratouris, out throw this land be socht,
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And never leif thame till thay be rutit out.
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Ane admonitioun to all the Hammiltounis
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and thair assistaris, counsallaris, and
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pertakeris of this maist vile and
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abhominabill Murther.
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O Teinfull tratouris, quhy did ze him devoir?
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Maist schamefullie, that puneist everie vice,
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Quha wes the cheif mantenar of Gods gloir,
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Into this Realme, and lufit all Justice.
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Zour bailfull blude can never pay the price
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Of his deir deith, wrocht be zour wickitnes.
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Wa worth zow Villanis, that slew that Prince maist wise,
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For na cause ellis, bot for his rychteousnes.
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For sen ze first into this Realme began,
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Ze wer ay callit for zour tyrannie
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Strypis of the Schyre, the maist unworthie clan
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That ever wes bred, or sene in this countrie.
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As schawis weill be zour Genalogie,
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For thift and murther, reif and oppressiounis,
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With Guldis and Rukis, blasnit equallie
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Is the auld armes of the Hammiltounis.
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And quha wald seik, ane man but conscience.
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Ane Renegat for to deny his Creid,
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To tak ane pure man under his credence
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Syne cut his throt, and toung out of his heid.
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To put ane hundreth for to beg thair breid,
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And bring Just men unto confusioun
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To do ane horrible, and ane unworthie deid,
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Seik never farther than ane Hammiltoun.
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Ane midding tuilzour, but manheid at assay.
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Ane vailzeand tyrane, ane febill Campioun,
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Ane wyfe with Childe, that manfully can slay,
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Ane noysum nychthour, proude in oppressioun.
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Ane teinfull tratour of rycht Successioun,
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To Crucifie Christ, that compts not a feg,
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I say to zow for schort conclusioun,
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Come never ane gude byrde of the Devillis eg.
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How horriblie ze spuilzeit under nycht
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In his awin hous, maist schamefull for till heir,
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Ane Nobill Lord, James of Torphicen knycht,
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He can declair, gif ony man lyst speir.
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Ze left him not ane Malze nor Deneir,
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Syne under truste, neir schot him, and his wyfe,
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And Tymothie wes in ane felloun seir,
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Bot praisit be God, thay chaipit with thair lyfe.
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Our Kingis Grandschir, at Lythquo feild ze slew,
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Baneist his gudschir, from his kynde heritage,
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His Fatheris murther also ze cleirly knew,
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Mischantly hangit, ane wickit vassalage.
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Thir ar zour warkis, evin from zour first barnage,
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God wait gif ze be Jaips to hald in stoir,
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Or bony byrdis to keip into ane Cage,
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Christ keip our King out of zour handis heirfoir.
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Ze flew our Regent, because his warks wer gude,
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Quha was the Lampe of lycht into this land,
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As houngrie tykis, ze thristit for his blude,
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That savit zow, quhen ze wer in his hand.
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Quhen ze culd not resist his forcie wand,
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Ane suithfast sentence, heirfoit I sall zow tel
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Pronouncit be God, I lat zow understand,
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All murtherars thay sall Inherit hell.
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Nu. 35.
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Gal. 5.
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Joa. 3.
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Gen. 9.
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Apo. 23.
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Ane admonitioun to the assistaris, coun-
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sallaris, bylyaris, and Rejoysaris in this
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maist detestabill murther.
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NOcht only thay, bot all that sic assistis,
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Or fortefeis, or ony wayis mantenis,
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Incurris his Curse, now luke Gods buke quha listis
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For it is not mans Judgement sa that deims,
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And quha that this soir sentence small esteims,
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The tyme sall cum, that he sall weip and murne,
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Quhen hiddeous hell with grevous glowand gleims,
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Baith body and saule forevermair sall burne.
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Moirover all thay of that Genalogie,
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And of that Surname, we mak thame Intimatioun,
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Thay sal be repute of this foule cryme gyltie
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Quha nocht compeiris to mak Purgatioun,
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Farther all thay, gevis consultatioun,
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Or thame assistis into this fylthie fact
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And not compeiris to our Conventioun,
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Thay sal be haldin pertakeris of this act.
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Bewar heirfoir, and be effrayit of this,
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Lat sic tryit tratouris defend thair awin curst cause,
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Tyne not zour landis, and als the hevinis blis,
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Bot be obeysant to God, and mans Lawis,
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And be not flatterit with thair vaine wordis & sawis
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For thay cannot of this foule fact be clengit,
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Thocht man wald wink, zit God yat all thing knawis
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He will not leif this vile wark unrevengit.
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The exhortatioun to the Lordis and No-
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bilitie persewaris of this cruell Mur-
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ther, and defendaris of our King.
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GOd sayis my Lords, he wil be adversair,
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To bludy boucheris, that stand of him na feir,
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My Lords, thir wordis suld curage zow far maie
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Nor the haill help of man baith far and neir.
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Fall to heirfoir with blyith and mirrie cheir,
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We ar anew, thairfoir heis up zour hartis,
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And fordwarts marche, sa sall we se and heir
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Quhat lurkand lubers will tak thir Lymmers parts
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Thay fylde the feilds befoir, quhen first yai faucht
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Quhair tha for ane, wer aye in number thre,
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We trowit from thence, thay suld haif sittin saucht,
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And suld haif tyrit of all thair tyrannie.
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Bot now allace, the contrare we may se,
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Our vaine pietie, hes maid us this fals traine,
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Gods Curse thairfoir lycht on thame all for me,
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That ever hes pietie or reuth on thame againe.
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Gif ze do nocht Revenge this fylthie fact
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Ze will be schamit, ze may weill understand,
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And will be namit, ane fals and febill pack
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That ever rang in ony Realme or land.
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With curage heirfoir, now be the baner stand,
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And wyn forever honour and Renoun,
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Do ze not this, ze ar ane bailfull band
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And servis nocht ells, bot Goddis malesoun.
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For Gods Curse, his vengance and malediction,
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Sall never from zow, nor fra zour seid depart,
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Ze sall sustene maist sorrowfull afflictioun,
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That ever tholde men, in ony land or airt.
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Sic havie harme fall happin to zour hart
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Gif this foule murther with silence be overpast,
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Thir same tratouris sall mak zourselfis to smart
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And sal be zour distructioun at the last.
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And gif sa hapnis, ze may rycht weill considder
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This plaigue maist Justly, of Gods hands ze craif,
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Far better it is thairfoir to ryse togidder
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For to revenge the Murther with the laif.
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Nor Gods soir wraith above zour heidis to haif,
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For the overseing of sic a fythie cryme
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For Gods plaigues approchis I persaif,
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Gif ze prolong schort quhyle and drift over tyme.
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Fall to thame fraklie, to fecht thay haif na faces,
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Persew thame peirtly, and ze sall se thame fle,
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Rune is thair glas, and gone now is thair graces,
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Into respect of this foule tratorie.
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And quha supportis thame, or dois fortifie,
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I hope to God that is the heid of hallous,
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To se thame hyntit in handis haistelie,
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Syne hangit hie, but grace upon the Gallous.
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The makaris Exhortatoun to all men
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in Generall.
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AMend zour lyves, and call on God for grace,
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Pray for zour King, with hartie Exhortatioun,
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Repent our sinnis, quhill we haif tyme and space
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Detest all vice, and foule adhominatioun.
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Than God sall gif us confort and consolatioun,
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Pray for the Nobill Quene of Ingland
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Quha in our neid still sendis us supportatioun,
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Hir grace lang space, may in gude weilfair stand.
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So be it.
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Imprentit at Edinburgh be Robert
Lekpreuik. Anno Do. 1570.
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