Originally published in The Poet's Magazine (Leonard Lloyd) vol.2 #12 (Aug 1877).
Recently discovered in the British Museum written in an old Manuscript work, a.d. 1448. If written so long since, they are strange sayings, but breathe little poetry.
This wonderful woman lived till she was of an extraordinary age. She died at Clifton, in Yorkshire, from which is taken the following Epitaph, copied from a stone monument:—
Here lyes she who never ly'd,
Whose skill often has been try'd;
Her Prophecies shall still survive,
And ever keep her name alive.
Carriages without horses shall go,
And accidents fill the world with woe;
Primrose Hill in London shall be,
And in its centre a Bishop's see.
Around the world thoughts shall fly
In the twinkling of an eye.
Water shall yet more wonders do
How strange, yet shall be true,
The world upside down shall be;
And gold found at the root of tree,
Through hills men shall ride,
And no horse or ass be by their side.
Under water men shall walk,
Shall ride, shall sleep, and talk;
In the air men shall be seen,
In white, in black, and in green.
A great man shall come and go!
Three times shall lovely France
Be led to play a bloody dance;
Before her people shall be free,
Three Tyrant Rulers shall she see;
Three times the people's hope is gone;
Each springing from a different dynasty,
Then shall the worser fight be done,
England and France shall be as one.
The British Olive next shall twine
In marriage with German vine.
Men shall walk over rivers and under rivers,
Iron in the water shall float
As easy as a wooden boat.
Gold shall be found, and found
In a land that's not now known.
Fire and water shall more wonders do.
England shall at last admit a Jew
The Jew that was held in scorn,
Shall of a Christian be born and borne.
A house of glass shall come to pass
In England!—but alas!
War will follow with the work,
In the land of the Pagan and Turk;
And state and state in fierce strife
Will seek each other's life.
But when the North shall divide the South,
An Eagle shall build in the Lion's Mouth.
Taxes for blood and for War
Will come to every door.
All England's sons that plough the land,
Shall be seen book in hand.
Learning shall so ebb and flow,
The Poor shall most wisdom know.
Waters shall flow where corn shall grow.
Corn shall grow where waters doth flow.
Houses shall appear in the vales below,
And covered by hail and snow.
The world then to an end shall come
In Eighteen hundred and Eighty-one.