THE intriguing French monarch, now incited the king of Scotland to declare war against England. This weak prince lived on bad terms with his own nobility, and his force was unequal to his intended / enterprise; so that, when he was about to enter England, the English attacked him with superior force, and, the barons conspiring against the Scottish monarch's favourites, the army was disbanded.

The Duke of Albany entered Scotland with a powerful army, took Berwick, and obliged the Scots to resign their fortresses. This success emboldened the English to carry on the war with France with additional vigour.

But death, as if his petrifying dart was levelled at the firmest support of England's throne, now shook it, in triumph, over the sick couch of the unparalleled and illustrious Cobham, as his destined prey. Britannia drooping, hung her head, and mourned at the fated departure of the greatest genius, aided by the most exalted and patriotic virtue, her favoured island / had ever produced. Cobham died, as he had lived, anxious only for that country he had preserved, by the wisdom of his councils, the depth of his reasoning, and that profound knowledge of her internal and political system, which had enabled him so long and so successfully to guide her through the storm of intestine faction, and all the horrors of a foreign war with a treacherous and sanguinary enemy.

Britain, enriched by his superior wisdom, by the calculation of her finances, saved by his prudence, and upheld by his courage, flourished in the midst of an arduous and expensive war, and towered over her enemies in splendour, wealth, and power. Like a skilful ‘Pilot weathering the storm,’ he brought her in safe from all the rocks and quick-sands, / which had once well nigh precipitated her into the threatening gulph beneath.