His foes should be in collops hack’d,
Such were the brags in a letter sent,
Was writ unto Lord President,
When he advis’d him for his good,
To call his clan from Charlie’s croud:
Fight! that he would, and die at home,
As it was not far unto his tomb.
When dead, his countrywives he’d have
Cronoch to sing around his grave.
Likewise he wrote, I understand,