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Laft Night, when Sleep my heavy Eyes had clos'd,
To all her Rage methought I ftood expos'd;
Wild were her Looks, a poifon'd Cup the brought,
And proudly offer'd me the fatal Draught;
The deftin'd Bowl I took, with trembling Hands,
Compell'd to execute her fierce Commands.
This difmal Omen aggravates my Fears,
Before me ftill the furious Queen appears.

Lady JANE GRAY to Lord GUILFORD DUDLEY, who were feparated from each other by Imprisonment.

Anguish that no Force of Words can

WITH tell.

In these fad Lines I take my last farewel.
Could I with lefs Reluctance part from thee,
Approaching Death had no Surprize for me;
That folemn Profpect fhould my Thoughts employ,
And banish every tender Scene of Joy :
But thou doft ftill return upon my Soul,
What Force the foft Temptation can controul?
I meet thee ftill refiftlefs in thy Charms,
Sigh on thy Breaft, and languifh in thy Arms.
O Guilford, 'tis no wretched Love of Life,
That fills my Thoughts with this uneafy Strife;
The flattering Bland:fhments of youthful Years,
A promis'd Kingdom, nor my Country's Tears;
For thee alone I'd live, for thee alone

I took the fatal Proffer of a Crown.
No fond Ambition ftain'd my guiltless Mind,
Infpir'd with Paffions of a gentler kind;

With thee I would have chofe fome calm Retreat,
Far from the dull Formalities of State;


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How careless, how ferene my fleeting Hours
Had paft in fhady Walks, and fragrant Bowers,
Pleas'd with the Murmurs of a smooth Cafcade, .
Or near fome Chrystal Fountain, while it play'd,
Upon its flow'ry Verge, with thee reclin'd,
My Voice I to the melting Lute had join'd,
And footh'd thy Soul with gentle Strains of Love,,
Anfwer'd by all the Mufick of the Grove.
To Men, to Angels, be my Soul unveil'd,
Nor any Part of Heavenly Truth conceal'd;
The glorious Caufe that animates my Breaft,
My Lips with holy Triumph fhall atteft; -
Atteft it with my laft expiring Breath,
And smile on all the folemn Pomp of Death.
O Guilford keep thy facred Truth unftain'd,
And half my Immortality is gain'd.

Ye Virgin Saints, that in your early Bloom
From cruel Tyrants met a fatal Doom,
That dy'd the Honour of the Chriftian Faith,
And boldly trod the fame illuftrious Path,
To animate the youthful Sufferer's Breast,
Appear in all your Heavenly Glories dreft;
Shew him your sparkling Crowns, the bright Re

For fuch diftinguifh'd Conftancy prepar'd;
Open your rofy Bowers, your blissful Seats,
Your Gardens of Delight, your foft Retreats,
Where Gentle Gales ambrofial Odours blow,
And Springs of Joy in endless Currents flow;
With Imiling Vifions recreate his Soul,
And ev'ry doubting anxious Thought control.




AY every watchful Angel guard thy Life,
My lovely Princefs, and my charming Wife.
For thee I importune the Skies with Prayers,
And waste the tedious Hours in gloomy Cares.
Were-I from all the World but thee confin'd,
I'd call my Stars propitious ftill, and kind;
Thofe Prifon Walls fhould prove a fafe Retreat,
From all the reftlefs Factions of the Great..
Sink, curft Ambition,, to thy Native Hell;
And with thy kindred Fiends for ever dwell.
Were I, my Fair, again poffeft. of thee,.
What Toys were Kingdoms and their Crowns to

Inglorious in fome blisful Shades I'd prove,
The filent Joys of unmolefted Love.

Why was thy Birth deriv'd from ancient Kings?
Our Mis'ry from this fatal Greatnefs fprings :
Indulgent Love a gentler Lot defign'd,

Nor form'd for publick Cares thy guiltless Mind
Thy Thoughts were all employ'd on fofter Themes,
Tender and innocent, as Infants Dreams;:

And yet but Heaven the Title difallows,
A Crown, methought, look'd glorious on thy

In every Look, in every graceful Mien,
The brightest Rays of Majefty were seen.
Imperial Beauty fparkled in thy Eyes,
I gaz'd with Extafy and new Surprise;
A thoufand Times prefs'd thy lovely Hand,
And cry'd 'twas form'd a Scepire to command.
But these gay Scenes for ever take their flight,
Like fome fantastick Vision of the Night.

O could

O could my Death the angry Queen appeafe,
Could that alone a raging Faction pleafe,
Unterrify'd I'd meet the publick Storm,

And challenge Death in every dreadful Form.
But O, what Horrors rife !thy tender Life!
What would I fpeak? my lov'd, my beauteous
Wife :

What Counsel can thy wretched Husband give?
On any Terms I fain would have thee live.
O Death, where is thy boafted Conquest now?
Where are the Frowns and Terrors of thy brow?
Thou haft an Angel's heavenly Form and Air,
Pleasures and Graces in thy Train appear;
Ten Thoufand kind tranfporting Scenes arife,
O come, my Fair, they call us to the Skies:
Beauties, like thee, in Nature's early Pride,
Undaunted for their facred Faith have dy'd :
With theirs, with all th' illuftrious Names of old,
The British Glory, thine fhall be enroll❜d.

Q. Who was the: firft Martyr in Queen Mary's Reign.

A. Mr. John Rodgers; he was Minifter of St. Sepulchres Church in London, and was burnt in Smithfield, February 14th, 1554. His Wife with nine fmall Children, and one at her Breaft, followed him to the Stake, with which forrowful Sight he was not in the leaft daunted, but with wonderful Patience and Refignation dy'd courageously for the Gospel of Jefus Chrift.

Q. Which were the ten general Perfecutions fo famously known in the Primitive Church?

A. The firft was under Nero, (that bloody Per fecutor and Enemy to Mankind, who ript up his Mother's Belly to fee the Place of his Conception) in the 67th Year of Chrift. The second was under Domitian, in the Year 96. The third under Trajan ia co. The fourth under Marcus Antonius, in 167.


The fifth under Severus, in 195. The fixth under Maximinianus, in 237. The feventh under Decius, in 250. The eighth under Valerianus, in 259. The ninth under Aurelianus in 278. The 10th under Dioclefian, in 293. Yet notwithstanding these cruel Perfecutions, wherein, as one of the Fathers writeth, there were murdered five thousand every Day in the Year, excepting only the first Day of January; Yet were they like Chamomile, the more they were trod on, the thicker they grew, and the Blood of the Martyrs proved to be the Seed of the Church.

Q. What Paffion is the most prevailing over the Nature of Men?

A. Fear; of which we read that it hath in one Night turned the very Hairs of the Head from black to white. But most memorable is that Example of one, who being pretended to let Blood to Death, and being blinded, and his Arms tied faft, fome about him faying, bow bravely be bleeds on this Arm! how gallantly on that! though they did nothing to him, yet unbinding him, they found him quite dead with a panick Fear. Two Schoolboys daily paffed by a Cobler, who used to cry out, which of you has been whipt To-day. They to be even with him agreed, one to fire a Pistol, and the other with a Squirt to fquirt Blood the fame Inftant at him, which they did fo dextrously and took to their Heels, that, with the Noife of the Pistol, and Blood on his Breaft, he dropt down dead in his Stall; the Neighbours drew him out and ftript him, but could find no Wound.

Q. What Day was that, that the like never was before, nor never fhall be hereafter?

A. When Joshua prayed in the midst of the Battle, fo that the Sun haftened not towards his Western Period fo long, that, as Justin Martyr writeth, it made the Day thirty-fix Hours long. And fome write

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