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1613, excepting that it has been reprinted in The Harleian Miscellany with some few notes, Vol. II. P. 418.

P. B.

ART. IX. A Disputacion of Purgatorye made by Jhon Frith is deuided into thre bokes. The fyrst boke is an answer vnto Rastell, which goeth aboute to proue purgatorye by naturall Phylosophye, The seconde boke answereth unto Sir Thomas More, which laboureth to proue purgatorye by scripture. The thyrde boke maketh answere unto my lorde of Rochestre which moost leaneth vnto the doctoures. "Beware lest any man come and spoyle you thorow phylosophye and deceytfull vanite, thorow the tradicions of men, and ordinacions after the worlde, and not after Christ. Collos. ii." 12mo. black letter.

ART. X. An other boke against Rastel named the subsedye or bulwark to his fyrst boke, made by Jhon Frithe presoner in the Tower. "Awake thou that slepeste and stonde vppe from deeth, and Chryste shall geue the lyght. Ephesians v." 12mo

black letter.

To the above very curious books are neither date, place, or printer's name. I conceive however that they must have appeared either in 1529 or 1530, as in 1531, the author suffered at Smithfield, through the means of Sir Thomas More, Lord Chancellor, with whom he had continual controversies on theological

subjects.

subjects. In Clark's Marrow of Ecclesiastical Historie, London, 1650," 4to. is a short account of Frith, from which I shall extract one anecdote. "Having som business in Reading, hee was there taken for a vagabond, and set in the stocks: there hee sate till he was almost pined with hunger, and then desiring to speak with the schoolmaster of the town, when hee came to him, Frith in Latine bewailed his captivitie to him: the schoolmaster being overcom with his eloquence, began exceedingly to affect and pittiė him, the rather when hee spake in Greek to him also, and repeted divers verses out of Homer: whereupon the schoolmaster repaired speedily to the magistrates and procured his enlargement."

So imperfectly does Wood mention both of these works, that I am tempted to suppose he never was able to procure a sight of them: nor have I ever heard of or seen any other copies than those from which the above titles are given.

P. B.

ART. XI. Winter. A Poem. By James Thomson. The Second Edition. 1726.

[CONCLUDED FROM VOL. II. P. 353.]

Clear frost succeeds, and thro' the blue serene,

For sight too fine, th' ætherial nitre flies,
To bake the glebe, and bind the slip'ry flood.
This of the wintry season is the prime;
Pure are the days, and lustrous are the nights,
Radiant with starry worlds, till then unseen.

Mean

Mean while, the orient, darkly red, breathes forth
An icy gale, that in its mid career,

Arrests the bickering stream. The nightly sky,
And all her glowing constellations, pour
Their rigid influence down: it freezes on,
Till Morn, late-rising, o'er the drooping world
Lifts her pale eye, unjoyous: then appears
The various labour of the silent night;

The pendant isicle, the frost-work fair,

*

Where fancy'd figures rise; the crusted snow,
Tho' white, made whiter, by the fining north,
[And gem-besprinkled in the mid-day beam. ] +

On blithsome frolicks bent, the youthful swains,
While every work of man is laid at rest,

Rush o'er the watry plains, and, shuddering, view
The fearful deeps below: or, with the gun,
And faithful spaniel, range the ravag'd fields;
And, adding to the ruins of the year,

Distress the feathery, or the footed game.

Muttering, the winds, at eve, with hoarser voice, Blow, blustering, from the south-the frost subdu'd, Gradual, resolves into a trickling § thaw.

Spotted, the mountains shine: loose sleet descends,
And floods the country round: the rivers swell,
Impatient for the day. [ Broke from the hills,
O'er rocks and woods, in broad, brown cataracts,
A thousand snow-fed torrents shoot, at once;
And where they rush, the wide-resounding plain
Is left one slimy waste.] Those sullen seas,
That wash th' ungenial Pole, will rest no more
Beneath the shackles of the mighty North;

Thousand. 1st edit.

+Added in the 2d edit.

But hark! the nightly winds with hollow voice. 1st edit.

§ Weeping thaw. ast edit.

Added in the zdedit.

But,

But, rousing all their waves, resistless heave,-
And hark!-the lengthening roar, continuous, runs
Athwart the rifted main; at once it bursts,
And piles a thousand mountains to the clouds!
Ill fares the bark, the wretches' last resort,
That, lost amid the floating fragments, moors
Beneath the shelter of an icy isle;

While Night o'erwhelms the sea, and Horror looks
More horrible. Can human hearts endure

Th' assembled mischiefs that besiege them round:
Unlistening hunger, fainting weariness,

The roar of winds, and waves, the crush of ice,
Now ceasing, now renew'd with louder rage,
And bellowing round the main ? nations remote,
Shook from their midnight-slumbers, deem they hear
Portentous thunder in the gelid * sky:

More to embroil the deep, Leviathan,

And his unwieldy train, in horrid sport,

Tempest the loosen'd brine; while, thro' the gloom,
Far, from the dire, unhospitable shore

At once is heard th' united, hungry howl, †

Of all the fell society of night.

Yet, Providence, that ever-waking eye,

Looks down, with pity, on the fruitless toil
Of mortals, lost to hope, and lights them safe,

Thro' all this dreary labyrinth of fate.

'Tis done!-Dread WINTER has subdu'd the Year And reigns, tremendous, o'er the desart Plains!

How dead the vegetable kingdom lies!

How dumb the tuneful! Horror wide extends
His solitary empire-Now, fond man!
Behold thy pictur'd life: pass some few years,

*Troubled sky. 1st edit.

The lyon's rage, the wolf's sad howl is heard. 1st edit.

Thy

Thy flowering Spring; thy short-liv'd Summer's strength
Thy sober Autumn, fading into Age;

And pale, concluding Winter shuts thy scene, .
And shrouds thee in the grave. Where now are fled
Those dreams of greatness? those unsolid hopes
Of happiness? those longings after fame?
Those restless cares? those busy bustling days?
Those nights of secret guilt? those veering thoughts,
Fluttering 'twixt good and ill, that shar'd thy life?
All, now, are vanish'd! Virtue, sole survives,
Immortal, mankind's never-failing friend,
His guide to happiness on high:-and see!
'Tis come, the glorious Morn! the second birth
Of Heaven, and Earth!—awakening Nature hears
Th' Almighty trumpet's voice, and starts to life,
Renew'd, unfading. Now th' eternal scheme,
That dark perplexity, that mystic maze,

Which sight could never trace, nor heart conceive,
To Reason's eye, refin'd, clears up apace.
Angels and men, astonish'd, pause ;-and dread
To travel thro' the depths of Providence,
Untry'd, unbounded. Ye vain learned! see,
And prostrate in the dust, adore that Power:
Of Goodness, oft arraign'd. See now the cause,
Why conscious worth, oppress'd, in secret long
Mourn'd, unregarded: why the good man's share
In life, was gall, and bitterness of soul:
Why the lone widow, and her orphans, pin'd,
In starving solitude; while Luxury,
In palaces, lay prompting her low thought
To form unreal wants: why heaven-born Faith
And Charity, prime grace! wore the red marks
Of Persecution's scourge: why licens'd Pain
That cruel spoiler, that embosom'd foe,
Imbitter'd all our bliss. Ye good distrest!

VOL. III.

Ye

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