Of Mr George Ruthven the tears and mournings,
Amidst the giddie course of fortune's turnings,
Upon his dear friend's death, Mr John Gall,
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As we arrived at our Lady's Steps,
Incontinent all men reversed their caps,
Bidding us welcome home, and joining hand,
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as we did behold the salmon sporting,
We spied some countrie clowns to us resorting,
Who striken were with sudden admiration,
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What blooming banks, sweet Earn, or fairest Tay,
Or Almond doth embrace! These many a day
We haunted, where our pleasant pastorals
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This time our boat passing too nigh the land,
The whirling stream did make her run on sand;
Aluif, we cry'd, but all in vain, t'abide
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What could there more be done, let any say,
Nor I did to prevent the doleful day?
For when I saw Gall's fatal constellation
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Up springs the sun, the day is cleer and fair,
Ætesiæ, sweetly breathing, cool the air;
Then coming to my cabin in a band,
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