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ús till now did produce, and that was Rachel's “ tears, lamentation and weeping and great mourn. " ing, a mother weeping for her children, and
would not be comforted, because they were taken « from her. For the rebels, as you hear, having “ carried the two Ladies prisoners to Shaftesbury, “ thinking them not safe enough, their intent is “ to remove them to Bath, a place then much
infected both with the plague and the small“ pox. The old Lady was fick under a double « confinement, that of the Rebels and her own
indisposition. All were unwilling to be ex. 66 posed to the danger of the infection, especially “ the young Lady, having three children with “ her; they were too dear, too rich a treasure “ to be snatched away to such probable loss 66 without reluctancy; therefore they resolve not “ to yield themselves prisoners unless they will " take the old Lady out of her bed, and the rest 6 by violence, and so carry them away. But “ the Rebels fearing left so great inhumanity .“ might incense the people against them, and “ render them odious to the country, decline “ this ; and, since they dare not carry all to “ Bath, they resolve to carry some to Dor. 6 chefter, a place no less dangerous for the in66 fection of schism and rebellion than Bath for " the plague and the small-pox. To this pur“ pose they take the young Lady's two sons,
“ (the eldest but nine, the younger but seven " years of age,) and carried them captives to “ Dorchester.
" In vain doth the mother with tears intreat " that these pretty pledges of her Lord's affec« tions may not be snatched from her. In “ vain do the children embrace and hang about is the neck of their mother, and implore help c from her, that neither knows how to keep 66 them, nor yet how to part with them : but “ the Rebels, having lost all bowels of compas< fion, remain inexorable. The complaints of w the mother, the pitiful cry of the children, « prevail not with them : like ravenous wolves “ they seize on the prey, and though they do " not crop, yet they transplant those olive < branches that stood about their parents' 66 table.”
Lady Arundell is buried with her Lord, near the altar of the very elegant chapel at Wardour Castle, built by the present Lord Arundell. The inscription on their monument is as follows:
- To the Memory of the Right Honourable " Thomas Lord Arundell, second Baron of " Wardour, and Count of the sacred Roman « Empire; who died at Oxford of the wounds - he received at the battle of Lansdown, in the
"s service • service of King Charles the First, for whom « he raised a regiment of horse at his own ex6 pence at the time of the Usurpation.
. “ Obiit 19th Maii 1643. Ætat. 59. “ And of the Right Honourable Blanch Lady “ Arundell, his wife, daughter of Edward So. “ merset, Earl of Worcester, Lord Keeper of “ the Privy-feal, Master of Horse, and Knight " of the most noble order of the Garter, ances. “ tor to the Duke of Beaufort, lineally descend" ed from John of Gaunt, Duke of Lancaster, " son of King Edward the Third. This Lady, « as distinguished for her courage as for the 6 splendor of her birth, in the absence of her “ husband bravely defended the Castle of War“ dour, with a courage above her sex, for nine “ days, with a few men, against Sir Edward “ Hungerford and Edmund Ludlow and their “ army, and then delivered it up on honourable “ terms. Obiit 28th Octobr. 1649. Ætat. 66.
“ Requiescat in Pace. 6 Who shall find a valiant woman! The price “ of her is as things brought from afar off, and «s from the uttermost coasts. The heart of her “ husband trusteth in her. Prov. xxxi.
" Our God was our refuge and strength; the " Lord of Armies was with us, the God of Jacob 66 was our Protector. Pfalm xlvi.”
By the kindness of the present LORD ARUN, DELL, these Volumes are decorated with an ENGRAVING of this incomparable Woman, from the original Picture of her at Wardour Castle, Wilts.
WILLIAMS, SUCCESSIVELY BISHOP OF LINCOLN, LORD KEEPER, AND
ARCHBISHOP OF YORK.
It is said upon the monument of this learned Prelate, at an obscure village in Carnarvonshire, that “ he was linguarum plus decem fciens—that “ he understood more than ten languages.”
The Lord Keeper had found, in the course of his own life, the advantage of knowledge to himself, and was very anxious that other persons should possess those benefits which he had turned to so good an account. His Biographer tells us, that in all the various progressions in the dignities of the Church, whether as Canon, Dean, or Bishop, he always superintended the grammarschools that were appended to his Cathedral, and took care that they should be supplied with proper and able masters.
Williams had been Chaplain to Lord Bacon, and succeeded him in his office. When that