"At length an aged sire far off he saw

Come slowly footing, every step he guest
One of his feet he from the grave did draw.
Three legs he had, the wooden was the best,
And all the way he went, he ever blest

With benedicities, and prayers store,

But the bad ground was blessed ne'er the more, And all his head with snow of age was waxen hoar.

"A good old hermit he might seem to be,
That for devotion had the world forsaken,
And now was travelling some saint to see,
Since to his beads he had himself betaken,
Where all his former sins he might awaken,

And them might wash away with dropping brine,
And alms, and fasts, and church's discipline;

And dead, might rest his bones under the holy shrine."

"Thus on they wandred; but these holy weeds
A monstrous serpent, and no man, did cover.
So under greenest herbs the adder feeds;
And round about the stinking corps did hover
The dismal prince of gloomy night, and over
His ever-damned head the shadows err'd
Of thousand peccant ghosts, unseen, unheard,
And all the tyrant fears, and all the tyrant fear'd.

"He was the son of blackest Acheron,

Where many frozen souls do chatt'ring lie,
And rul'd the burning waves of Phlegethon,
Where many more in flaming suphur fry.
At once compelled to live, and forc'd to die,
Where nothing can be heard for the loud cry
Of Oh!' and 'Ah!' and Out, alas! that I
Or once again might live, or once at length might die !'

"Ere long they came near to a baleful bower,
Much like the mouth of that infernal cave,
That gaping stood all comers to devour,
Dark, doleful, dreary, like a greedy grave,

That still for carrion carcases doth crave.

The ground no herbs, but venomous, did bear,

Nor ragged trees did leave; but every where

Dead bones and skulls were cast, and bodies hanged were.

"Upon the roof the bird of sorrow sat,

Elonging joyful day with her sad note,
And through the shady air the fluttering bat

Did wave her leather sails, and blindly float,

While ever with her wings the screech owl smote
Th' unblessed house: there on a craggy stone
Celeno hung and made his direful moan,

And all about the murdered ghost did shriek and groan.

P

"Like cloudy moonshine in some shadowy grove,
Such was the light in which Despair did dwell;
But he himself with night for darkness strove.
His black uncombed locks dishevell'd fell
About his face; through which, as brands of Hell,
Sunk in his skull, his staring eyes did glow,
That made him deadly look, their glimpse did show
Like cockatrice's eyes, that sparks of poison throw.

"His clothes were ragged clouts, with thorns pinn'd fast;
And as he musing lay, to stony fright

A thousand wild chimeras would him cast:
As when a fearful dream in midst of night,
Skips to the brain, and phansies to the sight
Some winged fury, straight the hasty foot,
Eager to fly, cannot pluck up his root:

The voice dies in the tongue, and mouth gapes without boot.

"Now he would dream that he from Heaven fell,
And then would snatch the air, afraid to fall;
And now he thought he sinking was to Hell,
And then would grasp the earth, and now his stall
Him seemed Hell, and then he out would crawl:
And ever, as he crept, would squint aside,
Lest him, perhaps, some fury had espied,
And then, alas! he should in chains for ever bide.

"Therefore he softly shrunk, and stole away,

He never durst to draw his breath for fear,
Till to the door he came, and there he lay
Panting for breath, as though he dying were;
And still he thought he felt their craples tear
Him by the heels back to his ugly den:

Out fain, he would have leapt abroad, but then

The Heav'n, as Hell, he fear'd, that punish guilty men."

Perhaps the finest stanzas in Giles Fletcher's poem are those in which the remorse of Judas is described :

:

"For, him a waking bloodhound, yelling loud,
That in his bosom long had sleeping laid,

A guilty conscience, barking after blood,

Pursued eagerly, nay, never stay'd,

Till the betrayer's self it had betray'd.

Oft changed he place, in hope away to wind;

But change of place could never change his mind :

Himself he flies to lose, and follows for to find.

"There is but two ways for this soul to have,

When parting from the body, forth it perges;
To flie to Heav'n, or fall into the grave,

Where whips of scorpions, with the stinging scourges,

Feed on the howling ghosts, and fiery surges
Of brimstone roll about the cave of night,

Where flames do burn and yet no spark of light,
And fire both fries, and freezes the blaspheming spright.

"There lies the captive soul, aye-sighing sore,

Reck'ning a thousand years since her first bands;
Yet stays not there, but adds a thousand more,
And at another thousand never stands,
But tells to them the stars, and heaps the sands:
And now the stars are told, and sands are run,
And all those thousand thousand myriads done,
And yet but now, alas! but now all is begun."

THE MARTYRS.

IN several of the preceding memoirs in this chapter I have alluded to the religious troubles and persecutions of Queen Mary's reign. Besides the eminent men whom I have already mentioned as having shared the sufferings of the Reformed Church during that period, many more Etonians are recorded in the Alumni Etonenses, as having been afflicted for conscience' sake. I do not stop to particularise them all; but our humble tribute of gratitude and honour must be said to Four, whose faith was strong even unto death, and who sealed their belief with their blood. These are JOHN FULLER, who became a scholar of King's in 1527; and was burnt to death on Jesus Green in Cambridge, April 2nd, 1556: ROBERT GLOVER, scholar of King's in 1533; burnt to death at Coventry on the 20th of September, 1555: LAWRENCE SAUNDERS, scholar of King's in 1538; burnt to death at Coventry on the 8th of February, 1556: JOHN HULLIER, scholar of King's also, in 1538; burnt to death on Jesus Green, Cambridge, on the 2nd of April, 1556. I have condensed from Fox some account of the Martyrdom of the two last. The narrative of JOHN GLOVER'S sufferings may also be found in that writer. (Townshend's Edition, vol. vii.) Respecting LAWRENCE SAUNDERS, the old Martyrologist of the Reformation says:

"After that Queen Mary, by public proclamation in the first year of her reign, had inhibited the sincere preaching of God's holy word, as is before declared, divers godly ministers of the word, which had the cure and charge of souls committed to them, did, notwithstanding, according to their bounden duty, feed their flock faithfully, not as preachers authorised by public authority

(as the godly order of the realm was in the happy days of blessed King Edward), but as the private pastors of particular flocks; among whom Laurence Saunders was one, a man of worshipful parentage. His bringing up was in learning from his youth, in places met for that purpose, as namely in the school of Eton; from whence (according to the manner there used) he was chosen to go to the King's College in Cambridge, where he continued scholar of the College three whole years, and there profited in knowledge and learning very much for that time. Shortly after that, he did forsake the university, and went to his parents, upon whose advice he minded to become a merchant, for that his mother, who was a gentlewoman of good estimation, being left a widow, and having a good portion for him among his other brethren, she thought to set him up wealthily; and so he, coming up to London, was bound apprentice with a merchant, named Sir William Chester, who afterward chanced to be sheriff of London the same. year that Saunders was burned at Coventry." "Saunders tarried not long time in the traffic of merchandise, but shortly returned to Cambridge again to his study; where he began to couple to the knowledge of the Latin, the study of the Greek tongue, wherein he profited in small time very much. Therewith, also, he joined the study of the Hebrew. Then gave he himself wholly to the study of the holy Scripture, to furnish himself to the office of a preacher."

Fox then describes Saunders' arrest, trial, and condemnation. "The next day, which was the 8th of February, he was led to the place of execution in the park without the city, going in an old gown and a shirt, bare-footed, and ofttimes fell flat on the ground, and prayed. When he was come nigh to the place, the officer appointed to see the execution done, said to master Saunders, that he was one of them which marred the Queen's realm, with false doctrine and heresy, wherefore thou hast deserved death,' quoth he; but yet, if thou wilt revoke thine heresies, the Queen hath pardoned thee: if not, yonder fire is prepared for thee.' To whom Master Saunders answered, 'It is not I, nor my fellow preachers of God's truth, that have hurt the Queen's realm, but it is yourself, and such as you are, which have always resisted God's holy word; it is you which have and do mar the Queen's realm. I do hold no heresies; but the doctrine of God, the blessed gospel of Christ, that hold I; that believe I;

that have I taught; and that will I never revoke.' With that, this tormentor cried, 'Away with him.' And away from him went Master Saunders with a merry courage towards the fire. He fell to the ground, and prayed: he rose up again, and took the stake, to which he should be chained, in his arms, and kissed it saying, 'Welcome the cross of Christ! welcome everlasting life!' and being fastened to the stake, and fire put to him, full sweetly he slept in the Lord.

"And thus have ye the full history of Laurence Saunders, whom I may well compare to St. Laurence, or any other of the old martyrs of Christ's church; both for the fervent zeal of the truth and gospel of Christ, and the most constant patience in his suffering, as also for the cruel torments that he, in his patient body, did sustain in the flame of fire. For so his cruel enemies handled him, that they burned him with green wood, and other smothering, rather than burning fuel, which put him to much more pain, but that the grace and most plentiful consolation of Christ, who never forsaketh his servants, and gave strength to St. Laurence, gave also patience to this Laurence, above all that his torments could work against; which well appeared by his quiet standing, and sweet sleeping in the fire, as is above declared."

The following are portions of Fox's record of the fiery trial and victory of Hullier :—

"Concerning the story of John Hullier, martyr, partly mentioned before, for the more full declaration of the death and martyrdom of that good man, because the story is but rawly and imperfectly touched before; for the more perfecting thereof, I thought thereunto to add that which since hath come to my hand, as followeth.

First, John Hullier was brought up at Eton College; and after, according to the foundation of that house, for that he was ripe for the university, he was elected scholar in the King's College, where also, not tarrying full three years of probation before he was Fellow of the College, he after a little season was one of the ten conducts in the King's College, which was anno 1539.

"Then at length, in process of time, he came to be a curate of Babraham, three miles from Cambridge, and so went afterward to Lynn; where he, having divers conflicts with the Papists, was from thence carried to Ely to Dr. Thirleby, then bishop there; who,