Yet bold attempt and dangerous, said I,
Upon these kinde of men such chance to try,
By nature inhumaine, much given to blood,
Wilde, fierce, and cruel, in a desperate mood.
But no such danger, answer'd Master Gall,
As fearfullie you deeme, was there at all:
For Perth was then a citie made for war,
Here men were soldiers all, and bold to dar
Such motion attempt, a soldier keene
The smallest outrage hardly can sustain.

Many such stratagems declare I might,
Which Perth hath acted in defence of right:
How Ruthven's place, and Dupplin, in one day
Were burn'd, or battle of the Bridge of Tay,
With manly courage fought, where kill'd were many,
Upon the day sacred to Magdalene,
Five hundreth fourtie foure, for which she mournes,
And many times her cristall tears she turnes
In flouds of woes, rememb'ring how these men
Were justly by their own ambition slaine,
Thinking to sack a town; some through despaire,
Did overleap the bridge, and perish there:
Some borne on spears, by chance did swim a land,
And some lay swelting in the flykie sand;
Agruif lay some, others with eyes to skyes,
These yielding dying sobs, these mournfull cryes;
Some by their fall were fixed on their spears;
Some swat'ring in the floud the streame down bears;
By chance some got a boat, what needs more words!
They make them oars of their two handed swords:
Some doubting what to do, to leap or stay,
Were trampled under foot as mirie clay;
Confusedly to fight and flee they trimble,
The shivering spears do through their bodies tremble,
And strongly brangled in splents do quickly flee,
The glistering sword is chang'd in crimson dye;
To wrak they go, even as the raging thunder,
Rumbling and rolling roundly, breaks asunder
A thick and dampish cloud, making a shower
Of crystall gems, on earth's dry bosome powre;
So broken was that cloud, the purpure bloud
In drops distilling, rather as a floud,
The dry and dusty ground doth warmely draine;
And dying bodies in their own blood staine,
Or as the comets, or such meteors driven,
Or stars which do appear to fall from heaven.
So tumbling headlong, spears in hand they traile,
As firie dragons, seem to have a taile;
Or Phaeton, or some sulfurious ball,
So from the bridge in river do they fall.
I pray thee Gall, quoth I, that storie show,
Some things I heard of it, and more would know,—
Tell it I pray. No, no, Gall did reply,
Lest I offend our neighbour-town neere by,
When they shall hear how malice did provoke them,
Ambition them guide, and avarice choak them;
Thinking upon our spoyles triumph to make,
And on th'occasion given our town to wrak,
With full commission purchast for the same,
T'intrude a provost, else with sword and flame
All to destroy, given by the Cardinall,
At whose devotion then was govern'd all:
So in that morning soon by break of day,
The town all silent did beset; then they
To clim the bridge begin, and port to skall,;
The chains they break, and let the drawbridge fall;
The little gate of purpose was left patent,
And all our citizens in lanes were latent;
None durst be seene, the enemies to allure,
Their own destruction justly to procure;
Thus entring, though well straitly, one did call—
All is our owne! come fellow soldiers all,
Advance your lordlie pace; take and destroy!—
Build up your fortunes! Oh: with what great joy
These words were heard! Then did they proudly step,
As men advanc'd on stilts, and cock their cap;
With rouling eyes they looke, and hand in side,
Throwing their noses, snuffe, and with great pride,
Self looking at their brawnes, themselves admire,
And doubting at their own hearts closely, speare
If it be they; thus wondering do they pause
a pretty while; anon they quickly loose
With swifter pace, and turning round, they move
If there be any gazer to approve
Their great conceit; thus inly filled with glee,
They wish their wife or mistres might them see;
Scorning Alcides, they his strength would try,
And in their braine the world they would defie,
With such brave thoughts they throng in through the port,
Thinking the play of fortune bairnely sport;
And as proud peacocks with their plumes do prank,
Alongst the bridge they merche in battle rank,
Till they came to the gate with yron bands,
Hard by where yet our ladies chappell stands;
Thinking to break these bars, it made some hover—
Too strong they were, therefore some did leap over,
Some crept below; thus many pass in by them,
And in their high conceat they do defie them;
Foreward within the town a space they go;
The passage then was strait, as well ye know,
Made by a wall; having gained so much ground
They can exult: Incontinent did sound
A trumpet from a watch-tower;—then they start,
And all their bloud do strike into their heart!
A wondrous change!—even now the bravest fellows
In their own fansies glasse, who came to quell us,
The vital spirits their artires do containe,
Their panting hearts now scarcely can sustaine.

Our soldiers then, who lying were a darning,
By sound of trumpet having got a warning,
Do kyth, and give the charge; to tell the rest—
Ye know it well, it needs not be exprest;
Many to ground were born, much blood was shed—
He was the prettiest man that fastest fled:
Yea, happie had they been, if place had served
To flee, then doubtlesse more had been preserved;
Within these bars were kill'd above threescore,
Upon the bridge and waters many more;
But most of all did perish in the chace,
For they pursued were unto the place
Where all their baggage and their cannon lay,
Which to the town was brought as lawfull prey.

What shall I more say?—if you more would have,
I'll speak of these three hundreth soldiers brave,
Like these renown'd Lacedemonians,
Courageous Thebans, valiant Thespians,
Resolved to die, led by Leonidas,
Stopt Xerxes armie at Thermopylas:
Such were these men who for religion's sake
A cord of hemp about their necks did take,
Solmenly sworn to yield their lives thereby,
Or they the gospel's veritie deny:
Quitting their houses, goods, and pleasures all,
Resolved for any hazard might befall,
Did passe forth of the town in armes, to fight
And die or they their libertie and light
Should lose; and whosoever should presume
To turn away, that cord should be his doome.

Hence of Saint Johnston's ribband came the word
In such a frequent use, when with a cord
They threaten rogues; though now all in contempt
They speak, yet brave and resolute attempt,
And full of courage, worthy imitation,
Deserving of all ages commendation,
Made these men put it on, symbole to be
They ready were for Christ to do or die:
For they were martyrs all in their affection,
And like to David's worthies in their action;
Therefore this cord should have been made a badge
And sign of honour to the after age,
Even as we see things in themselves despised,
By such rare accidents are highly prised,
And in brave skutsheons honourable born,
With mottoes rare these symboles to adorn:
Thus some have vermine, and such loathsome swarmes,
Yet honourably born are in their armes;
And some have mice, some frogs, some filthy rats,
And some have wolves and foxes, some have cats;
Yet honourable respect in all is had,
Though in themselves they loathsome be and bad;
Thus Millaine glories in the baneful viper,
As none more honour, misterie no deeper:
The antient Gauls in toads—in lilies now
Metamorphos'de: the Phrygians in their sow:
Athens their owle with the eagle will not barter,
And honisoit, who thinks ill of garter?
What shall be said, then, of this rope or cord?—
Although of all men it be now abhorr'd,
And spoke of in disdain, their ignorance
Hath made them so to speake; yet may it chance
When they shall know the truth they will speak better,
And think of it as of a greater matter,
And truly it esteem an hundred fold
Of much more honour than a chain of gold;
Thus may you see, Monsier, men of renown
Of old time have possest this antient town,
And yet this may we boast, even to this day,
Men of good wit and worth do not decay;
For to this houre some footsteps still remaines
Of such couragious hearts and cunning braines.
Good Master Gall, quoth I, I know that well
Whereof you speak, and clearly can it tell;
For I did see these men, (being then of age
Some twelve or thirteen years—a pretty page,
As easely you may guesse,) and can you show
Some partial poynts whereof you nothing know,
Nor are they written. Then answered Master Gall—
A witness such as you is above all
Exception; therefore show what you did see
Or hear, good Monsier, your antiquitie
Is of much credit. Master Gall, quoth I,
Much did I see, and much more did I try;
My father was an man active and wight
In those dayes, and who helped for to fight
The battle of the bridge; within few years
Thereafter was I borne; then all our quires
And convents richly stood, which I did see
With all their pomp; but these things told to me,
First will I shew a storie of much ruth,
How that our martyrs suffered for the truth
Of Christ's blest gospel, on Paul's holy day,
Before the fight was of the bridge of Tay;
In that same yeere the silly governor,
Led by the crafty cardinall, with power
Held judgment on these men, and under trust
Condemn'd them; nothing their bloudie lust
Could satiat. The citizens, made sure
Their neighbours should not lose, nor skaith endure,
Go to their homes; forthwith the cardinall
Causde lead them unto execution all;
And from the Spey Tower window did behold
Doome execut, even as his cleargie would:
Which treacherous fact did so enrage the town,
No credit more to black, white, nor gray gown
After these dayes was given. Thus in the place
Where malefactors end their wicked race,
These innocents do make a blessed end,
And unto God their spirits they recommend,
In witnesse of the faith, for which they die,
And by the sp'rit of truth did prophesie
These words, looking and pointing with the hand
Towards our monasteries, which then did stand,
Most sumptuously adorn'd with steeples, bells,
Church ornaments, and what belongeth else:—
“These foxes which do lurke within these holes,
Delighting in the earth like blinded moles,
Drown'd in their lusts, and swimming in their pleasures,
Whose God their belly, whose chief joy their treasures,
Who caused have our death, shall hounded be
Forth of these dens!—some present here shall see
The same ere it be long; then shall ye say,
It's for God's truth that we have dyed this day;
And all these sumptuous buildings shall be cast
Down to the earth—made desolat and waste;
This to performe God's zeale shall eat men up,
To fill the double potion in their cup;
The apples then of pleasure, which they loved
And lusted after, shall be all removed;
Yea, scarcely shall they finde a hole to hide
Their heads (thus by the sp'rite they testified);
And in that day true pastors shall the Lord
Raise up to feed his flock with his pure word,
And make Christ's people by peculiar choice
Dignosce the shepherds from the hyreling's voice.”
Which as they did foretell did come to passe,
Some sixteen years, or thereby, more or lesse;
Thus with clear signes, by God's own sp'rit exprest,
In full assurance of heaven's blesse they rest.
Meanwhile, Saint Catherine's chaplain standing by,
Wringing his eyes and hands, did often cry—
Alace! alace! for this unhappie turn,
I feare for it one day we shall all mourn,
And that by all it shall be plainly said,
That we blind guides the blinded long have led;
Some churchmen there bad pack him heretic,
Else certainly they should cause burne him quick.
This done, friends take their bodies, and with mourning
Do cary them towards the town, returning
With heavy hearts, them to this chapel bring,
But no soule masse nor dirge durst sing;
Yet this good priest did lay them on the altar,
And all night read th'epistle and the psalter
With heart devout and sad; from th'evening vapours
Placing upon the altar burning tapers
Unto the dawning; exequies thus ended,
Their bodies to the earth are recommended.

This chappel sometime stood by our theater,
Where I my self sprinkled with holy water,
After these dayes did often here the messe,
Albeit I knew not what it did expresse;
But this I saw: a man with shaven crown,
Raz'd beard and lips, who look't like a baboun,
Perfumed with odours, and in priestly vestures,
Did act this mimic toy with thousand gestures;—
A misterie indeed, nor which no fable
Acted on stage to make you laugh more able.

After these innocents were martyred thus,
As you have heard, churchmen were odious;
And when occasion served, so did they finde:
For so soon as did blow a contrare winde
The hour was come, and then our Knox did sound—
Pull down their idols!—throw them to the ground!
The multitude, even as a speat, did rush then,
In powder beat, and call'd them all Nebushtan;
Our Blackfriars church and place, Whitefriars, and Gray
Profaned, and cast to the ground were in one day;
The Charterhouse, like a citadale, did hold
Some two dayes more, untill these news were told:
We should be raz'd, and sack't, and brought to ground,
Not so much as a footstep should be found
Where was such citie—neither sex nor age
Should saved be, until the cruell rage
Of fire and sword should satiate that moud,
Quenching the fire with citizen's owne bloud,
And with destruction's besome sweep from station,
And sow with salt perpetual desolation;
To signifiy these news made great commotion:
The fear full people ran to their devotion;
Doctrine and prayers done; chief men advise
To take in hand first what great enterprise;
Said one, This place hard by our town doth stand,
A mighty strength, which early may command,
And wrecke our citie, therefore let us go
In time, and to the ground it overthrow:
For sure our enemies will possesse the same,
And us from thence destroy with sword and flame,
Even at their pleasure. Then they all conclude
In arms to rise; and rushing as a floud
Which overflowes the banks, and headlong hurles
The strongest bulwarks with devouring whirles,
Swallowing the mighty ships—them overwhelme,
Nothing availes his skill that guides the helme:
Even so the multitude in armes arise,
With noise confusde of a mirth and mourning cryes,
For that fair palace, then six score nine years
Which had continued; turning of the spheres
The fatal period brought—to ground it must,
And all its pomp and riches turne to dust.
Even as these martyrs truly did fortell,
In every point the judgement so befell:
Towres fall to ground—monks flee to hide their heads,
Nothing availe their rosaries and beads;
Then all men cry'd, Raze, raze, the time is come,
Avenge the guiltlesse blood, and give the doome!
Courage to give was mightily then blown
Saint Johnston's hunt's up—since most famous known
By all musicians, when they sweetly sing
With heavenly voice, and well concording string;
O how they bend their backs and fingers tirle!
Moving their quivering heads, their brains do whirle
With divers moods; and as with uncouth rapture
Transported, so doth shake their bodie's structure:
Their eyes do reele, heads, arms, and shoulders, move;
Feet, legs, and hands, and all their parts approve
That heavenly harmonie: while as they threw
Their browes, O mighty strain! that's brave! they shew
Great fantasie; quivering a brief some while,
With full consent they close, then give a smile;
With bowing bodie, and with bending knee,
Methink I heare, God save the companie.
But harmonie which heavens and earth doth please,
Could not our enemies' furious rage appease;
Cruell Erinnis reignes, destruction shoring,
Ten thousand soldiers, like wild lyons roaring,
Against our towne do merche. Fame, desolation
Proclaimes; the church, then nam'd the congregation,
Makes for defence: but ah! the burgh's distractions!
Papists and Protestants make divers factions;
The town to hold, impossible they finde,
The fields to take they purpose in their minde,
Factions within, munition, victual scarce,
Hardly to hold eight days they finde by search.

Amid these doubts these valiant fellows come
In arms array'd, and beating of the drum,
With cords about their neck, Come, come, they cry,
We be the men who are resolv'd to die.
First in this quarrel; we to death will fight,
So long as courage will afford us might,
And whoso yields alive, this tow portends,
Streight must he hing where did our dearest friends
Who suffered for the truth, nothing we skunner,
This certainly we count our chiefest honour
Thus as Manassas half tribe, Reuben, Gad,
Do leave their cattle and mount Gilead,
Before their brethren over Jordan go,
In arms to fight against the cursed foe;
So these three hundred do abandon quite
Their citie, houses, goods, and chief delight,
Resolv'd to die all for the gospel's light,
Armed before their brethren march to fight;
And having gain'd a place meet to abide,
Their enemies to resist, courage they cry'd,
Be merrie fellows all, leave sad complaints,
Dine cheerfully, for sup we shall with Saints.
Fame spreads the brave attempt, all martial hearts
Inflam'd with divine zeal flock to these parts
From places most remote, in arms they rise
T'assist the matchless happie enterprise.
God giveth hearts to men, and mightiest things
By weakest means he to confusion brings:
Our enemies ears are fill'd that all our fear
Was into courage turned from despair;
Their firie rage is quencht, their hearts do fail,
Where God forsakes, nought doth man's strength avail.
Then what their open force could not work out,
By flight they endeavour to bring about,
They treat of peace: Peace flees with joyful wings,
But under it was hatcht most lewd designs
When time should serve: but he whose thought doth rule
This world's great fame, their madness did controule;
And gratiously through his aboundant pitie
Preserv'd our innocents, and sav'd our citie.

When by small means they found themsels confounded,
Even to their very heart-roots they were wounded:
Then they began to raile, and shew their passion,
Saying, such ribbands meet for such profession.
And in contempt, when any rogue they see,
They say, Saint Johnston's ribband's meet for thee;
Or any fellow resolute in mind
For some great act, this ribband fit they finde
For such a one. Thus time made all men use
This word, and ignorance through time t'abuse,
For every bad conceit which for religion
Was stoutly undertaken in this region:
Which I did see and heare, and well do know,
And for your life the parallel me show
In all the world; except Leonidas
The rest without a third I overpasse.
Thus our Saint Johnston's ribband took the name,
Whereof we have no reason to think shame.

Our skipper herewith called—HOW, turn aback,
The waters flow, and tide doth quickly make;
Therefore of this to speak was no more leisure,
For wind and tide, you know, stay no man's pleasure.
With post-haste to our berge we make our way,
The day far spent, longer we might not stay;
Our ship now fairly fleeting comes a land,
Two skilful rowers take the oars on hand,
We re-embarked, down the river slide,
Which was most pleasant with the flowing tide,
The bridge draws nigh where contrare streams do run,
Take heed, skipper, said we, these dangers shun,
The whirling stream will make our boat to coup,
Therefore let's pass the bridge by Wallace loup;
Which when we did behold, 'mongst other things
We much admired who lent his feet such wings:
Empedocles may leap in Ætna burning,
In Tiber leap may Cocles home returning:
Th'one burns in flame, the other falls in flood,
But Wallace overleaping makes all good.

When we these heaven-like arches had survey'd,
We admir'd in th'air these hinging stones what stay'd;
Then thus, said Gall, these on their centers stay,
As on their bases fixt, and all their sway
They press toward the same—a wondrous thing,
Albiet the centre in the air doth hing;
Yea, divers circles, sections divers ways,
Tend to their proper centres, as their stays;
So these two sections do conjoine in one
To make the arch, and finished in a cone;
As everie peace these bowing arches bends,
It rightly pointing to the centre tends:
So heavens respect the earth, and all their powers
Together in her bosome strongly powres,
Which is their center, roote, and sure pedestall—
The steadfast base whereon this world doth rest all:
Thus man's ingine God's works doth imitate,
And skilfull art doth nature emulat;
As Archimedes in a sphere of glasse
The world's great fabrick lively did expresse,
With all the stars fixt in the azure heaven,
And all the motions of the planets seven,
Moving about a fixed point or center,
Observing houres, dayes, monthes, summer and winter,
Even so the arches of this bridge proclaime,
And shew the building of the starrie frame;
But now all lost, needs Archimedes' skill,—
Oh! if it were supplied by Master Mylne!
Thus having past the bridge, our oares we bend
To shore, so this day-voyage made an end.