He departed this life on March 28, 1682, having received a bruise by a fall, as he was riding the day preceding betwixt Leith and Holyrood House; and was honourably interred in the Abbey Church of Holyrood House, on April 4, 1682." Men might, and very justly too, conclude Me guilty of the worst ingratitude, Should I be silent, or should I forbear At this sad accident to shed a tear; A tear! said I?
ah! that's a petit thing, A very lean, slight, slender offering, Too mean, I'm sure, for me, wherewith t'attend The unexpected funeral of my friend: A glass of briny tears charged up to th' brim.
Would be too few for me to shed for him.
The poet proceeds to state his intimacy with the deceased, and the constancy of the young man's attendance on public worship, which was regular, and had such effect upon two or three other that were influenced by his example: So that my Muse 'gainst Priscian avers, He, only he, WERE my parishioners; Yea, and my only hearers.
He then describes the deceased in person and manners, from which it appears that more accomplishments were expected in the composition of a fine gentleman in ancient than modern times: His body, though not very large or tall, Was sprightly, active, yea and strong withal.
His constitution was, if right I've guess'd, Blood mixt with choler, said to be the best.
In's gesture, converse, speech, discourse, attire, He practis'd that which wise men still admire, Commend, and recommend.

What's that?
you'll say.
'Tis this: he ever choos'd the middle way 'Twixt both th' extremes.

Amost in ev'ry thing He did the like, 'tis worth our noticing: Sparing, yet not a niggard; liberal, And yet not lavish or a prodigal, As knowing when to spend and when to spare; And that's a lesson which not many are Acquainted with.

He bashful was, yet daring When he saw cause, and yet therein not sparing; Familiar, yet not common, for he knew To condescend, and keep his distance too.
He us'd, and that most commonly, to go On foot; I wish that he had still done so.
Th' affairs of court were unto him well known; And yet meanwhile he slighted not his own.
He knew full well how to behave at court, And yet but seldom did thereto resort; But lov'd the country life, choos'd to inure Himself to past'rage and agriculture; Proving, improving, ditching, trenching, draining, Viewing, reviewing, and by those means gaining; Planting, transplanting, levelling, erecting Walls, chambers, houses, terraces; projecting Now this, now that device, this draught, that measure, That might advance his profit with his pleasure.
Quick in his bargains, honest in commerce, Just in his dealings, being much adverse From quirks of law, still ready to refer His cause t' an honest country arbiter.
He was acquainted with cosmography, Arithmetic, and modern history; With architecture and such arts as these, Which I may call specifick sciences Fit for a gentleman; and surely he That knows them not, at least in some degree, May brook the title, but he wants the thing, Is but a shadow scarce worth noticing.
He learned the French, be't spoken to his praise, In very little more than fourty days.
Then comes the full burst of woe, in which, instead of saying much himself, the poet informs us what the ancients would have said on such an occasion: A heathen poet, at the news, no doubt, Would have exclaimed, and furiously cry'd out Against the fates, the destinies and starrs, What! this the effect of planetarie warrs! We might have seen him rage and rave, yea worse, 'Tis very like we might have heard him curse The year, the month, the day, the hour, the place, The company, the wager, and the race; Decry all recreations, with the names Of Isthmian, Pythian, and Olympick games; Exclaim against them all both old and new, Both the Nemaean and the Lethaean too: Adjudge all persons, under highest pain, Always to walk on foot, and then again Order all horses to be hough'd, that we Might never more the like adventure see.
Supposing our readers have had enough of Mr.Symson's woe, and finding nothing more in his poem worthy of transcription, we return to the tragic story.
It is needless to point out to the intelligent reader that the witchcraft of the mother consisted only in the ascendency of a powerful mind over a weak and melancholy one, and that the harshness with which she exercised her superiority in a case of delicacy had driven her daughter first to despair, then to frenzy.

Accordingly, the Author has endeavoured to explain the tragic tale on this principle.