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قراءة كتاب Prophecies of Robert Nixon, Mother Shipton, and Martha, the Gypsy

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Prophecies of Robert Nixon, Mother Shipton, and Martha, the Gypsy

Prophecies of Robert Nixon, Mother Shipton, and Martha, the Gypsy

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دار النشر: Project Gutenberg
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readiness to obey the royal command forgot to set poor Nixon at liberty and though he was but three days absent when he recollected his prisoner he found him at his return, dead as he had foretold of hunger.

Thus evidenced with what is past stands his prophecy in every mouth in Cheshire; yet a greater affront cannot be given than to ask a copy from the families said to be possessed of it.  Every possible means it is well known has been used to smother the truth, perplex the curious, and even to abolish the very remembrance that such a one ever existed, but from what reason cannot appear except that it is foretold that the heir of O— is to meet with some ignominious death at his own gate, [16] with other family events which, though no person or time being perfectly distinguished may perhaps occasion this secrecy.

I must also observe that the cross on Delamere forest, that is, three steps and the socket in which the cross formerly stood are now sunk within a few inches of the ground, though all remember to have seen it within the memory of man nearly six feet above, the cross itself having been destroyed long since.  It is also remarkable that Headlets cross is mentioned by Merlin de Rymer and most other English and Scotch prophets as the last place in England on which it is supposed a decisive action will happen; but as to any fixed period when the things will come to pass I cannot learn, being all mentioned with the greatest uncertainty.

THE ORIGINAL PREDICTIONS
OF
ROBERT NIXON,
AS DELIVERED BY HIMSELF.

When a raven shall build in a stone lion’s mouth,
On a church top beside the grey forest,
Then shall a king of England be drove from his crown,
      And return no more.

When an eagle shall sit on the top of Vale-Royal house,
Then shall an heir be born, who shall live to see great troubles in England.

There shall be a miller nam’d Peter,
      With two heels on one foot,
Who shall distinguish himself bravely,
      And shall be knighted by the victor:
For foreign nations shall invade England;
      But the invader shall be killed,
And laid across a horse’s back,
      And led in triumph.

A boy shall be born with three thumbs on one hand,
      Who shall hold three King’s horses,
Whilst England three times is won and lost in one day.

But after this shall be happy days,
      A new set of people of virtuous manners shall live in peace.
But the wall of Vale-Royal near the pond shall be the token of its truth,
      For it shall fall:
         If it fall downwards,
Then shall the church be sunk for ever:
But if it fall upwards against a hill,
Then shall the church and honest men live still.

      Under this wall shall be found the bones of a British King.
Peckforton-mill shall be removed to Ludington hill,
And three days blood shall turn Noginshire-mill.
But beware of a chance to the lord of Oulton,
      Lest he should be hanged at his own door.

A crow shall sit on the top of Headless cross,
      In the forest so grey,
And drink of the nobles’ gentle blood so free;
Twenty hundred horses shall want masters,
      Till their girths shall rot under their bellies.

Thro’ our own money and our own men,
      Shall a dreadful war begin;
Between the sickle and the suck,
All England shall have a pluck;
And be several times forsworn,
And put to their wits’ end,
That it shall not be known, whether to reap their corn,
Bury their dead, or go to the field to fight.

      A great scarcity of bread corn.
Foreign nations shall invade England with snow on their helmets,
And shall bring plague, famine, and murder in the skirts of their garments.
A great tax will be granted but never gathered.

Between a rick and two trees,
A famous battle fought shall be.

London street shall run with blood
      And at last shall sink,
So that it shall be fulfilled,
Lincoln was, London is, and York shall be
      The finest city of the three.

There will be three gates to London of imprisoned men for cowsters.
Then if you have three cows, at the first gate fell one, and keep thee at home,
At the second gate fell the other two, and keep thee at home.
At the last gate all shall be done.

When summer in winter shall come,
And peace is made at every man’s home,
Then shall be danger of war;
For tho’ with peace at night the nation ring,
Men shall rise to war in the morning.

There will be a winter Council, a careful Christmas, and a bloody Lent.
In those days there shall be hatred and bloodshed,
The father against the son, and the son against his father,
That one may have a house for lifting the latch of the door.
Landlords shall stand, with hats in their hands,
To desire tenants to hold their lands.

Great wars and pressing of soldiers,
But at last clubs and clouted shoes shall carry the day.
It will be good in these days for a man to sell his goods, and keep close at home.
Then forty pounds in hand
Will be better than forty pounds a year in land.
The cock of the North shall be made to flee,
And his feathers be plucked for his pride;
That he shall almost curse the day that he was born.

One asked Nixon, where he might be safe in those days? he answered,
In God’s croft, between the rivers Mersey and Dee.

Scotland shall stand more or less,
Till it has brought England to a piteous case.
The Scots shall rule England one whole year.
      Three years of great wars,
      And in all countries great uproars.
The first is terrible, the second worse, but the third unbearable.

      Three great battles;
One at Northumberland-bridge,
One at Cumberland-bridge,
And the other the south side of Trent.
Crows shall drink the blood of many nobles.
East shall rise against West, and North against South.

Then take this for good,
Noginshire-mill shall run with blood,
      And many shall fly down Wanslow-lane.

A man shall come into England,
But the son of a king crown’d with thorns
Shall take from him the victory.

Many nobles shall fight,
But a bastard Duke shall win the day,
And so without delay,
Set England in a right way.
A wolf from the East shall right eagerly come,
On the South side of Sandford, on a grey Monday morn,

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