digging the grave, the sexton struck against a small leaden coffer, about half a foot in length, and four inches wide. The poor man, expecting he had discovered a treasure, opened it with some difficulty; but found only a small parchment, rolled up very fast, put into a leather case; which case was tied at the top, and sealed with a St George, the impression on black wax, very rude and gothic. The parchment was carried to a gentleman of learning, who found in it the following lines, written in a black old English letter, and in the orthography of the age, which seems to be about two hundred years ago. I made a shift to obtain a copy of it; but the transcriber, I find, hath in many parts altered the spelling to the modern way. The original, as I am informed, is now in the hands of the ingenious Dr Woodward, F.R.S. where, I suppose, the curious will not be refused the satisfaction of seeing it.

it to-day, and some other verses."Journal to Stella, Dec. 23, 1711." My Prophecy is printed, and will be published after Christmas-day. I like it mightily; I don't know how it will pass." Ibid. Dec. 24. "I called at noon at Mrs Masham's, who desired me not to let the Prophecy be published, for fear of angering the queen about the duchess of Somerset; so I writ to the printer to stop them." Ibid. Dec. 26.—“ I entertained our society at the Thatched House tavern. The printer had not received my letter, and so brought us a dozen copies of the Prophecy; but I ordered him to part with no more. It is an admirable good one, and people are mad for it." Ibid. Dec. 27.

This Prophecy excited, as well it might, the deepest hatred on the part of the lady against whom it was levelled; indeed the charge of being privy to her second husband's assassination by the villany of Coningsmark, was too gross to be forgiven; and was moreover wholly undeserved. It must be remembered, that the duchess's favour with Queen Anne was so great as often to shake the confi dence of the tory party, notwithstanding their reliance on the yet superior influence of lady Masham.

"The lines seem to be a sort of prophecy, and written in verse, as old prophecies usually are, but in a very hobbling kind of measure. Their meaning is very dark, if it be any at all; of which the learned reader can judge better than I: however it be, several persons were of opinion, that they deserved to be published, both as they discover somewhat of the genius of a former age, and may be an amusement to the present."

WHEN a holy black Swede, the son of Bob,
With a saint at his chin and seal at his fob,
Shall not see one ‡ New-year's-day in that year
Then let old England make good cheer:
Windsor and Bristow then shall be
Joined together in the Low-countree. §
Then shall the tall black Daventry Bird ||
Speak against peace right many a word;
And some shall admire his conying wit,

For
many good groats his tongue shall slit.
But, spight of the Harpy ¶ that crawls on all four,
There shall be peace, pardie, and war no more.
But England must cry alack and well-a-day,
If the stick be taken from the dead sea. ‡‡

Dr John Robinson, bishop of Bristol, one of the plenipotentiaries at Utrecht.

+ He was dean of Windsor, and lord privy seal.

The New Style (which was not used in Great Britain and Ireland till 1752) was then observed in most parts of Europe. The bishop set out from England the latter end of December O. S.; and on his arrival at Utrecht, by the variation of the style, he found January somewhat advanced.

§ Alluding to the deanery and bishopric being possessed by the same person, then at Utrecht.

Earl of Nottingham.

Duke of Malborough.

II The treasurer's wand, taken from Harley, whose second title was Lord Mortimer.

And, dear Englond, if ought I understond,
Beware of Carrots* from Northumberlond.
Carrots soon Thynne † a deep root may get,
If so be they are in Somer set:

Their Conyngs mark thou; for I have been told,
They assassine when young, and poison when old.
Root out these Carrots, O thou, whose name
Is backwards and forwards always the same;
And keep close to thee always that name,
Which backwards and forwards || is almost the same.
And, Englond, wouldst thou be happy still,
Bury those Carrots under a Hill. ¶

*The Duchess of Somerset.

+ Thomas Thynne, of Longleate, Esq. married the above lady af ter the death of her first husband, Henry Cavendish, Earl of Ögle, only son to Henry, Duke of Newcastle, to whom she had been be trothed in her infancy. The marriage was never consummated; and Count Koningsmark having fallen in love with her while abroad, caused Thynne to be shot in his own carriage in Pall mall. To this horrid story, the following lines allude.

Count Koningsmark.

CORINNA, A BALLAD.

THIS day (the year I dare not tell)
Apollo play'd the midwife's part;
Into the world Corinna fell,

And he endow'd her with his art.
But Cupid with a Satyr comes;
Both softly to the cradle creep;
Both stroke her hands, and rub her gums,
While the poor child lay fast asleep.
Then Cupid thus: "This little maid
Of love shall always speak and write,"

"And I pronounce," the Satyr said,

"The world shall feel her scratch and bite."

Her talent she display'd betimes;

For in twice twelve revolving moons,
She seem'd to laugh and squall in rhymes,
And all her gestures were lampoons.

At six years old, the subtle jade
Stole to the pantry-door, and found
The butler with my lady's maid:
And you may swear the tale went round.

She made a song, how little miss
Was kiss'd and slobber'd by a lad:
And how, when master went to p—,
Miss came, and peep'd at all he had.

*This ballad refers to the history of Mrs Manley, a political ́writer, whom we have often noticed. It is difficult to say what could have tempted Swift to attack her so severely, at a time when they were both zealously engaged in the same political cause. But wits are not famous for discriminating between friends and enemies.

At twelve, a wit and a coquette;
Marries for love, half whore, half wife;
Cuckolds, elopes, and runs in debt;

Turns authoress, and is Curll's for life.

Her common place book all gallant is,
Of scandal now a cornucopia;

She pours it out in Atalantis,

Or memoirs of the New Utopia.

THE FABLE OF MIDAS. *

MIDAS, we are in story told,

Turn'd every thing he touch'd to gold:
He chipp'd his bread; the pieces round
Glitter'd like spangles on the ground:
A codling, ere it went his lip in,
Would straight become a golden pippin:
He call'd for drink; you saw him sup:
Potable gold in golden cup:

His empty paunch that he might fill,
He suck'd his victuals through a quill.
Untouch'd it pass'd between his grinders,
Or't had been happy for gold-finders:

*This cutting satyr upon the Duke of Marlborough, was written about the time when he was deprived of his employments. Swift thus mentions it in his journal: "To-day, I published 'The Fable of Midas,' a poem printed on a loose half sheet of paper. I know not how it will take; but it passed wonderfully at our society to-night; and Mr secretary read it before me the other night, to lord-treasurer, at Lord Masham's, where they equally approved of it. Tell me how it passes with you."-Journal to Stella, Feb. 14, 1711-12. Vol. III.