he general who was forced to
kill his enemies twice over, whom a necromancer had raised to life. If
Mr. Partridge has practised the same experiment upon himself, and
be again alive, long may he continue so; that does not in the least
contradict my veracity: But I think I have clearly proved, by invincible
demonstration, that he died at farthest within half an hour of the time
I foretold, and not four hours sooner, as the above-mentioned author, in
his letter to a lord, hath maliciously suggested, with design to blast
my credit, by charging me with so gross a mistake.

*****

A famous prediction of Merlin, the British wizard.

Written above a thousand years ago, and relating to the year 1709, with
explanatory notes.

Last year was publish'd a paper of predictions, pretended to be written
by one Isaac Bickerstaff, Esq; but the true design of it was to
ridicule the art of astrology, and expose its professors as ignorant
or impostors. Against this imputation, Dr. Partridge hath vindicated
himself in his almanack for that year.

For a farther vindication of this famous art, I have thought fit to
present the world with the following prophecy. The original is said to
be of the famous Merlin, who lived about a thousand years ago; and
the following translation is two hundred years old, for it seems to be
written near the end of Henry the Seventh's reign. I found it in an old
edition of Merlin's Prophecies, imprinted at London by John Hawkins
in the year 1530, page 39. I set it down word for word in the old
orthography, and shall take leave to subjoin a few explanatory notes.

Seven and Ten addyd to Nyne,
Of Fraunce her Woe this is the Sygne,
Tamys Rivere twys y-frozen,
Walke sans wetyng Shoes ne Hozen.
Then comyth foorthe, ich understonde,
From Town of Stoffe to farryn Londe,
An herdye Chyftan, woe the Morne
To Fraunce, that evere he was born.
Than shall the fyshe beweyle his Bosse;
Nor shall grin Berrys make up the Losse.
Yonge Symnele shall again miscarrye:
And Norways Pryd again shall marrye.
And from the tree where Blosums feele,
Ripe Fruit shall come, and all is wele,
Reaums shall daunce Honde in Honde,
And it shall be merrye in old Inglonde,
Then old Inglonde shall be no more,
And no man shall be sorre therefore.
Ge