THE

FUNERAL

OF

SIR ARCHIBALD THE WICKED.

THE more upright our actions here,

We will at last have less to fear.
One proof, to make this adage plain,
Is old Sir Archibald of Culzean;
Who wore himself, and wished to see
All mankind wear the Rosary.
Woe to the wight who durst presume
To sep'rate from the church of Rome;
The deepest glen, the wildest moor,
He found for worship insecure.

Our Carrick Knight was ready still
The blood of heretic to spill,
Which made him in the west to be
More dreaded far than Lord Dundee !

But good men saw their pray'rs at last Come down upon the Baron fast; They sightless saw his eye, that ne'er Was wet with sympathetic tear;

They nerveless saw his arm and hand,
Red with the blood of half the land;
They saw his fear-inspiring form

Dissolve in pestilential swarm ;

And wrench'd they saw his putrid frame, Ere Death to his assistance came.

No sooner fled away the sprite
Of Archibald, the ascetic Knight,
Than pages over hill and dale
Were sent to tell the mournful tale ;

And formally invite each friend

The Baron's funeral to attend.

I

One from Bargany takes Kilkerran, 2

3

And hurries round by old Dalquarhan; 3

Along the Doon another ran

5

To Monkwood,+ Blairston, and Blairquhan;

Nor is he seen his pace to slack

Until he reaches Auchenleck. 7

Now Sundrum 8 he is seen to leave,

And now he passes Auchencrive;9

His news at Coilsfield 10

gate he cries,

And off to Loudon Castle "hies;

Then winds the rolling Irvine down
To Shewalton" and Eglintoun. *3

Except the roaring of the main, All now was silent round Culzean.

1 The seat of Sir H. Dalrymple, M. P. for Ayrshire.

2 The seat of Sir James Ferguson Bart.

3 The seat of Thomas Kennedy of Dunure, Esq.

4 The seat of James Fergusson, Esq. Advocate.

5 The seat of Lord Alloway.

The seat of Sir David Hunter Blair, Bart.

7 The seat of A. Boswell, Esq.

8 The seat of Sir James Ferguson, Bart.

9 The seat of R. A. Oswald, Esq.

10 The seat of Lord Montgomerie.

11 The seat of Earl Moira.

12 The seat of John Boyle, Esq.

13 The seat of the Earl of Eglintoun.

Escutcheons on the castle wall

Proclaim Sir Arch'bald's death to all;

And waxen tapers bright at noon
Illuminate the grand saloon;

Where on a couch of velvet made,
The Baron's corpse in state is laid.
From the orchestra at his head,
Nuns sung in honour of the dead;
While at his feet, with lifted hands,
A Flamen of Crossraguel stands.
Now up to heav'n he turns his eye,
And lifts the golden chalice high;
Now low on bended knee he prays,
And Ave Maria often says.

With smile upon his visage stern,
He first implores Saint Kentigern;
Then old Columbus, and Saint Bryde,
Who over Scottish saints preside,

That they in heav'n may int'rest make The Carrick Knight, for pity's sake, Soon out of purgat❜ry to take.

Thus they go on to sigh and pray, Until arrives the funeral day

F

That morning soon began to toll;
O'er hill and haugh, and holt the while,
From Carrick, Cunninghame, and Kyle,
What crowds are travelling to Culzean
To countenance the closing scene,
That will the great Sir Arch'bald join
To many nobles of his line,

Who on their Monarch's household roll
Were chamberlains and grooms of stole;
Lord Stewards some, and chiefs of horse,
Some masters of the privy purse;
Some equeries and falc'ners grand,
And captains of the yeomen band;
With many an almoner and dean,
And many of the minstrel train.

Since Coila's dauntless sons arose

Ambitious Hacho to oppose,

From wild Glen-Nap to Misty-Law,

None ever such a bustle saw.

Lord, knight, and squire, in mourning weed,

On to the scene of death proceed;