8
He made the south of Scotland feel,
His gripping claws were made of steel.
They were so crooked, hard and sharp,
They pierc'd men's substance to the heart:
The king's commission while he did bear,
Men lost their conscience, life or gear:
But Charles too soon him discarded,
Yet I his kindness well rewarded;
And this I hope he'll not deny,
Since now he lives as well as I.
Fletcher, my friend, he was the first,
As advocate, who did insist
Against the Whigs in the king's name,
To bring them to an open shame:
Charles, my son, did him instal,
To bring those rebels under thrall,
Who still for covenants were pleading,
To justify their old proceeding,
He labour'd very earnestly
To please his sovereign and me,
By rooting out base Presbyt'ry,
And planting noble Prelacy;
By banishing some far away,
That us'd my dictates to gainsay;
By sumptuous fines, making them poor
That never could my yoke endure;
By shutting up in prison strong,
These men who did my interest wrong;
And thirsting for the blood of them
Who did my government contemn:
His malice was so set on fire,
That nothing could quench his desire,
Until Argyle, mine enemy,
Was brought condignly for die;
