% I . .- , . I 
 
 ■ 
 

GLEANINGS m GRAVEYARDS 
 
 A COLLECTION 
 
 OF 
 
 COLLATED, COMPILED, AND EDITED 
 
 HOEATIO EDWARD NOEFOLK. 
 
 " Omnibus semel moriendum est." 
 
 Horace. 
 
 u Care to our coffin adds a nail no doubt ; 
 And every grin so merry, draws one out." 
 
 Peter Pindar. 
 
 THIRD EDITION, REVISED AXD EXLARGED. 
 
 LONDON : 
 
 JOHN EUSSELL SMITH, SOHO SQTJAEE. 
 
 1866. 
 
 n/ 
 

L7 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Epitaphs t» England 1 
 
 Wales 124 
 
 Scotland 127 
 
 Miscellaneous 136 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 The favour accorded to previous issues of this 
 Book, has encouraged me to send a Third Edition to 
 press. The whole work has been carefully revised, 
 and an introduction prefixed. It is hoped that in 
 its amended form, it will be even more acceptable to 
 the public, and thus repay the ca,re bestowed upon it. 
 
 I accept this opportunity of thanking numerous 
 friends for many of the extracts from country church- 
 yards, and I desire to acknowledge the assistance 
 which I have derived (in preparing the Introduction) 
 from Mr. T. J. Pettigrew's " Chronicles of the 
 Tombs," and the Eev. Eobert Maguire's Lecture on 
 Epitaphs. 
 
 H. E. N. 
 
 1, Emmanuel Villas, Upton, Essex, 
 1st June, 1866. 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 Theee are few places more pregnant with interest 
 and instruction than * God's Acre." In wandering 
 over that sacred ground, where-under all must sooner 
 or later find their final rest, the mind of even the 
 most careless man should be directed into a train of 
 serious and healthy reflection. "We can hardly 
 look upon the gorgeous Monuments soaring high in 
 panegyric of the mighty dead, and then upon the 
 humble inscriptions adorning the tombstones of 
 those less favoured when resident in this world's 
 tabernacle, now made equal by the impartial* hand 
 of Death, and scattered indiscriminately in the common 
 repository of his victims — without believing that there 
 are indeed Sermons that we may gather from Stones. 
 As we picture the pomp of earth f which has fol- 
 lowed some to the grave, — the coronet surmounting 
 the coffin of the peer, the sword crossing that of the 
 warrior, the trappings of state emblazoning the bier 
 of the man mighty in political circles, and again on 
 the other hand as we shadow forth in imagination, the 
 
 * " Death, with impartial tread, waits at the palace portal, and 
 the cotter's humble hut." — Horace : Carvi. 
 
 f '* fading honours of the dead ! 
 high ambition lowly laid !" 
 
 Scott : Lay of the Lad Minstrtl. 
 
VI INTRODUCTION. 
 
 simple show that has witnessed the grave close over 
 
 others of its own, — we cannot fail to contrast the 
 
 shadows of life with the reality of death, and to be 
 
 reminded of the words of Isaiah, " Thy pomp is brought 
 
 down to the grave, and the noise of thy viols ; the 
 
 worm is spread under thee, and the worms cover 
 
 thee." (Isaiah xiv. 11.) We may be provoked to 
 
 ask, with Gray — 
 
 " Can storied urn, or animated bust, 
 
 Back to its mansion call the fleeting breath ? 
 Can honour's voice provoke the silent dust, 
 Or flattery soothe the dull cold ear of death V* 
 
 As we enter the village churchyard, with its 
 rows of yew trees and green hillocks, its monu- 
 ments of the dead in serried ranks of all sorts, 
 shapes, and sizes, what associations does it awaken 
 in our minds? How pity for the bereaved, and 
 remembrance of our own dear departed,* are upper- 
 most in our thoughts, and lead us to contemplate 
 an abiding place of rest after the grave shall have 
 been past, where there will be no sorrow, but peace 
 and joy unalloyed. Addison, writing in the Spectator, 
 thus moralizes among the Epitaphs of a graveyard : — 
 " When I look upon the tombs of the great, every 
 emotion of envy dies in me ; when I read the epitaphs 
 of the beautiful, every inordinate desire goes out; 
 
 * " There is no flock, however watched and tended, 
 But one dead lamb is there ; 
 There is no fireside, howsoe'er defended, 
 But has one vacant chair." 
 
 Longfellow : Resignation. 
 
INTRODUCTION. Ml 
 
 when I meet with the grief of a parent upon a tomb- 
 stone, my heart melts with compassion ; when I see the 
 tomb of the parents themselves, I consider the vanity 
 of grieving for those whom we must quickly follow.* 
 When I see kings lying by those who deposed them, 
 when I consider rival wits placed side by side, or the 
 holy men that divided the world with their contests 
 and disputes, I reflect with sorrow and astonishment 
 on the little competitions, factions, and debates of 
 mankind. | When I read the several dates of the 
 tombs, of some that died yesterday, and some six 
 hundred years ago, I consider the great Day when 
 we shall all of us be contemporaries, and make our 
 appearance together. "J It is not, however, my inten- 
 tion to moralize upon the result of my researches. 
 The object of this book is, firstly, to afford informa- 
 
 * " Yes, we must follow soon, will glad obey, 
 When a few suns have rolled their cares away, 
 Tired with vain life, will close the willing eye : 
 'Tis the great birthright of mankind to die." 
 
 Thomson's Epitaph on Miss Stanley. 
 
 f " A little rule, a little sway, 
 A sunbeam in a winter's day, 
 Is all the proud and mighty have, 
 Between the cradle and the grave." 
 
 Dyer : Granger Hill. 
 J " Whence He shall come to judge the quick and the dead. 
 At whose coming all men shall rise again with their bodies : and 
 shall give account for their own works. And they that have 
 done good shall go into life everlasting, and they that have done 
 evil into everlasting fire." — The Creed of St. Athanasius. 
 
Till INTRODUCTION. 
 
 tion on monumental inscriptions generally, and then 
 specially to convey to those who have not the oppor- 
 tunity of searching our churchyards for themselves, 
 an idea of the extent to which the practice has been 
 carried of inscribing tombstones with verses remark- 
 able either for their quaintness, or their rude attempts 
 at humour. In ages long gone by, the ancients were 
 accustomed to burn their dead, and by this very 
 summary process to reduce the body to its elementary 
 dust. The ashes were deposited in a funeral urn ; 
 and this in the cavity of a rock. Loud and lengthy 
 declamations were then pronounced over the ashes 
 of the dead, lauding the virtues of the deceased, and 
 extolling his praises. These were called the panegyric 
 of the dead, and being uttered " over the tomb " were 
 called by the name of "Epitaph" {I'm rd^ov.) 
 These laudations of the departed extolled them to 
 the skies. Songs were sung, in which their deeds were 
 extravagantly praised. The eulogy of the dead would 
 indeed have made the deceased blush, could he have 
 heard the too flattering tale. How different this 
 practice to the one now-a-days ! where the solemn 
 and pathetic words of the burial service remind the 
 mourner what he really is,* whitherf he is hastening, 
 
 * " Dust thou art, and unto dust shalt thou return." — Gen. iii. 19. 
 
 "Man shall turn again unto dust." — Job xxxiv. 15. 
 f " That undiscover'd country, from whose bourn 
 
 No traveller returns." — Shakespeare : Hamlet, Act iii. Scene 1. 
 
INTRODUCTION. IX 
 
 and endeavours to lead him to make his peace with 
 God, before the ground shall be opened for others to 
 mourn over him. 
 
 The importance of monumental inscriptions can. 
 perhaps, scarcely be overrated. Whilst they serve 
 to record many an heroic deed which, without them, 
 might be lost sight of in the lapse of time, and many 
 a testimonial of affectionate regard and filial gratitude 
 which would else be neglected, they form in many cases 
 the land-marks of history, and lead us to ascribe to their 
 proper era, remarkable events, for the fixing of whose 
 occurrence we might be without data. Hence it is 
 that it is not barren of beneficial results for us to 
 examine into the epitaphial records of bygone ages. 
 
 The Egyptians, one of the earliest people of whom 
 we have truly satisfactory records, are notable for 
 their extraordinary tombs and temples, and tablet 
 steles, representing offerings and inscribing prayers 
 and supplications on their tombs. 
 
 Greek sepulchral monuments are not so numerous 
 as those of the Eomans ; but the Greek Epitaphs are 
 characterized by a peculiar beauty and fertility of 
 expression. The Greeks wrote their Epitaphs in 
 elegiac verse, and afterwards in prose. Their moral 
 tendency is chiefly of the highest order. Amongst 
 those which have been handed down to us we find — 
 
 By Simonides: — 
 
 " Human strength is unavailing ; 
 Boastful tyranny unfailing ; 
 
X INTRODUCTION-. 
 
 All in life is care and labour; 
 And our unrelenting neighbour, 
 Death, for ever hovering round; 
 Whose inevitable wound, 
 When he comes prepared to strike, 
 Good and bad will feel alike." 
 
 By Plato, on two neighbouring tombs : — 
 M This is a sailor's — that a ploughman's tomb : — 
 Thus sea and land abide one common doom." 
 
 By Archilochus : — 
 
 " Loud are our griefs, my friend; and vain is he 
 
 Would steep the sense in mirth and revelry 
 
 O'er those we mourn, the hoarse resounding wave 
 
 Hath clos'd and whelm'd them in their ocean grave. 
 
 Deep sorrow swells each breast. But Heaven bestows 
 
 One healing med'cine for severest woes — 
 
 Resolv'd endurance — for affliction pours 
 
 To all by turns — to-day the cup is ours. 
 
 Bear bravely, then, the common trial sent, 
 
 And cast away your womanish lament V 9 
 
 Such are examples of the Greek epitaphs. I 
 might easily enlarge by giving specimens of the epi- 
 grammatic style so common in the Greek epitaphial 
 literature, and also offer some of those inscriptions 
 which were composed by the Greeks under a sense 
 of duty, upon individuals who had distinguished 
 themselves in war or fallen in battle ;* but my object 
 does not require such illustrations. 
 
 * How sleep the brave, who sink to rest, 
 By all their countiy 's wishes blest! 
 
 * * * * 
 
 By fairy hands their knell is rung, 
 By forms unseen their dirge is sung." 
 
 Collins : Lines written in 1746. 
 
INTEODTTCTION. XI 
 
 The Eomans erected their monuments by the 
 highway, that they might become constant objects of 
 attention. The inscriptions upon them are peculiarly 
 brief, and in most cases only record the name of the 
 departed, as at Lasborough, in Gloucestershire : — 
 
 DM 
 
 SVIICEMA 
 
 ANNOS XIII, VIXI. 
 
 In the earlier centuries of the Christian era, the 
 Christians in Eome were, by cruel tyranny of the 
 Emperors, exiled or otherwise persecuted. Eor 
 refuge they fled to the dens and caves of the earth, 
 the subterranean excavations from which, at a much 
 earlier date, the materials were originally obtained 
 for the building of Eome. There they lived ; there 
 they died ; and there they were buried. The rude 
 epitaphs, hastily inscribed upon the slabs that cover 
 them, tell who they were, and whither they have 
 gone. In these inscriptions there is no indication 
 of any modern Eoman doctrine:— no saint-worship; 
 no relic-veneration; no allusion to purgatory, or 
 masses for the dead ; nor to any other popular super- 
 stition of the present Church of Eome. "With a few 
 exceptions, gathered from more recent times, these 
 epitaphs breathe a true Protestant and scriptural 
 spirit. The most ancient of them have been trans- 
 ferred from the catacombs to the corridors of the 
 Vatican, and have been erected in the Lapidarian 
 
XU INTRODUCTION. 
 
 Gallery. The almost uniform testimony of the epi- 
 taphs proves a belief that the dead sleep in Jesus ; 
 and so far from supposing or suggesting any such 
 state as a penal purgatory, the dead are represented 
 as being — 
 
 " In God." " In Christ." " In Peace/' " Asleep." 
 
 This peaceful calm of the dead in Christ is the 
 
 characteristic subject of the epitaphs. One informs 
 
 us — 
 
 " Victorina sleeps." 
 
 Another : — 
 
 " Gamella sleeps in peace." 
 
 And another : — 
 
 " Zoticus here laid to sleep, 
 Vidalio, in the peace of Christ." 
 
 One very beautiful inscription runs thus : — 
 
 " In Christ. Alexander dead is not, but lives above the stars, 
 And his body rests in the tomb." 
 
 Another breathes this peaceful thought : — 
 
 " Dormitio Elpidis." 
 The sleeping place (or dormitory) of Elpis. 
 
 And a family grave is thus indicated: — 
 " Here lies Gordianus with all his family: 
 They rest in peace." 
 
 These epitaphs assume the character of historical 
 importance, and are even possessed of controversial 
 value, as intimating the faith of the early Church 
 respecting the dead ; and marking the essential differ- 
 
INTRODUCTION. . Xlll 
 
 ence between the Christian Church of the early 
 centuries, and the Church of Eome of the present 
 day. 
 
 The Eoman epitaphs relating to their Consuls and 
 Caesars are numerous, and are recorded on their statues 
 and in their temples and other colossal buildings. 
 They usually give a narrative of the renowned exploits 
 of their sovereigns and warriors, handing them down 
 to posterity w r ith fame and honour. Epitaphs of the 
 Eoman-British period are to be looked upon as 
 affording us examples of early style, and will be 
 found to partake of the simplicity of the Eomans. 
 
 It has been thought questionable whether we pos- 
 sess any genuine Saxon epitaphs ; those generally 
 adduced as such being evidently compositions of a 
 later period. This remark is alike applicable to the 
 Danes. 
 
 Epitaphs, although common in other countries, were 
 not much used in this, until the reign of James I. 
 His mother, the unfortunate Mary Queen of Scots, 
 was very fond of the amusement of writing epi- 
 taphs ; a taste which she acquired at the Court of 
 France. The result was that epitaphs in the Erench 
 language began to prevail, and ultimately a great 
 rage for English ones set in. The precedent thus 
 set by the Court was soon followed by the people at 
 large, and according to the opinions, tastes and dis- 
 positions of the writer, so were the effusions einanat- 
 
XIV INTRODUCTION. 
 
 ing from them. The courtier endeavoured to gain 
 favour by preparing far too complimentary stanzas 
 fitting the memory of his Eoyal master. The states- 
 man essayed his utmost to produce satisfactory mo- 
 numental biographies of those whose names and 
 actions were destined to adorn the history of his 
 country. The warrior attempted to commit to verse 
 the heroic deeds of his comrade in arms. The wit 
 lost not the opportunity of displaying the mystery 
 of his art in adding to the monumental records some 
 production from his humorous mind. The tragedian 
 thought fit to decorate the slab of his lost colleague 
 with a record, more prodigal of praise than truthful, 
 of his histrionic worth ; and even the artisan, ever 
 ready to aspire to perform the functions of his betters, 
 endeavoured to pay some eulogistic or defamatory 
 tribute to his departed companion. Hence it is we 
 find the opinions, the tastes and the moral tendencies 
 of our predecessors so clearly depicted in the litho- 
 graphed biographies which have been handed down 
 to us. Many, indeed, are not in harmony with the 
 poetic injunction : — ■ 
 
 " If to the memory of your Mend 
 A tribute you would pay, 
 I have, to suit your purpose, penn'd 
 What you would wish to say. 
 
 Only take care to fix on one 
 
 That is in justice due ; 
 For better 'tis to give him none 
 
 Than one that is not true." 
 
INTRODUCTION. XV 
 
 It is not always that Epitaphs are scriptural in 
 
 their teaching, nor have writers of epitaphs at all 
 
 times observed a seriousness of tone and spirit befitting 
 
 the solemnity of the grave. Jests have often been 
 
 inscribed over the sleeping dead, and the tombstone 
 
 has frequently been used to perpetuate wranglings 
 
 between man and man, utterly out of harmony with 
 
 the christian feeling that feuds and broils should 
 
 be forgotten, when rendering to mother earth her 
 
 kindred clay to sleep in the hallowed calm of a 
 
 peaceful rest. It has been said bitterly of us as a 
 
 nation, that " we love to deck the tombstone, yet will 
 
 not crown the brow ;" and we cannot believe that this 
 
 accusation and reproach is altogether devoid of truth 
 
 when we notice the laudatory monumental panegyrics 
 
 to many whose estimable virtues and heroic deeds 
 
 have been lightly appreciated, whilst the subject of 
 
 them was on earth, but of whom too many have been 
 
 eager to say when dead, 
 
 " He was a man, take him for all in all, 
 We shall not look upon his like again." 
 
 Hamlet, Act i. sc. 2. 
 
 Epitaphs are often used to record the occupations 
 
 of the departed. Hence it is, we have so many 
 
 specimens of trade and professional epitaphs, some 
 
 of which are given on page 142, and according 
 
 to the source from which they originate, so are they 
 
 remarkable for their literary worth. Many people 
 
 disagree with the practice of inscribing tombstones 
 
XVI INTRODUCTION. 
 
 with the narration * of the earthly calling of the 
 deceased, being of opinion that all trades, professions, 
 and occupations, should be lost sight of in the 
 sanctuary of the grave. Others consider that it has 
 a healthy tendency to inscribe tombstones with the 
 excellencies of professional or commercial zeal and 
 ability. Be this as it may, the fact cannot be over- 
 looked, that it is not the tombstone nor the inscription 
 which will recommend the sleepers beneath to a more 
 lasting place of peaceful rest. Epitaphs cannot be 
 too brief; the best tribute we can pay to a departed 
 friend is that remembrance which shall exist far longer 
 than the record placed on a marble slab, nor will our 
 appreciation of departed worth be enhanced by ful- 
 some flattery, or ingenious rhyme. Count Tessin, the 
 tutor to Gustavus III. of Sweden, dictated this epitaph 
 for his tombstone, 
 
 " Tandem felix." 
 
 (Happy at last.) 
 
 And such reflection upon the pleasures of death, and 
 the fleeting joys of life, cannot fail to have a more 
 salutary effect than would have done the record of 
 his praiseworthy earthly labours.* All epitaphs are 
 not joyous and flattering. Perhaps the most sorrowful 
 
 * The poet Gay's epitaph on himself is worth quoting here: — 
 " Life is a jest, and all things show it ; 
 I thought so once, and now I know it." 
 
 My readers will readily recall Pope's Epitaph on Gay : — 
 " Of manners gentle, of affections mild ; 
 In wit, a man ; simplicity, a child.*' 
 
INTRODUCTION. XV11 
 
 one that has ever been inscribed above the dead 
 is the one to be found in Worcester Cathedral, — very 
 brief and very wretched, — consisting of only one word. 
 
 " Miserrimus. , ' 
 (Most wretched.) 
 
 There is no name, no date, no circumstance known, 
 to cast light upon this doleful word, inscribed upon 
 the mystic stone in those dark and gloomy cloisters. 
 Conjecture and speculation may weave volumes out 
 of this " thrice sad superlative," and guess at a 
 thousand fancies to explain the mystery. But it is 
 in vain; the slab is silent, and refuses to tell the 
 tale. All we know is, that — 
 
 " One mournful word comes down to us, 
 He was, or is " Miserrimus." 
 
 Turning from this sad tribute, to one equally brief, 
 but more beautiful in its pathos, we find an inscrip- 
 tion over a departed Christian : — 
 
 " Emigravit." 
 (Emigrated.) 
 
 " Emigravit is the inscription 
 On the tomb in which he lies ; 
 Dead he is not, but departed, 
 For the Christian never dies." 
 
 Here the Christian leaves his earthly scene of tri- 
 bulation and toil, and emigrates to a better land to 
 seek consolation which earth can not afford, to meet 
 his fellow pilgrims in a region of happiness, and to 
 
XV111 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 remind those who still sojourn on earth, that he has 
 sought his resting-place in a fairer and more genial 
 clime, reminding those he has left behind that his 
 existence is not ended. He has merely emigrated. 
 
 It is my intention at this time to take but one 
 class of Epitaphs, the curious, and it is hoped, that 
 while this collection may afford amusement to all, it 
 will not prove offensive to any, nor fail to convey the 
 salutary lesson that a healthful smile may be elicited 
 from the homely record of human woe. 
 
EPITAPHS. 
 
 Bedfordshire* 
 
 COLMWOBTH. 
 
 Here is a magnificent monument, erected in 1641, 
 by Lady Dyer, in memory of her deceased husband, 
 Sir William Dyer, the inscription upon which tells us 
 that " they multiplied themselves into seven children." 
 Beneath are the following quaint lines : — 
 
 My dearest dust, could not thy hasty day 
 
 Afford thy drowsy patience leave to stay 
 
 One hour longer, so that we might either 
 
 Have set up, or gone to bed together ! 
 
 But since thy finished labour hath possessed 
 
 Thy weary limbs with early rest, 
 
 Enjoy it sweetly ; and thy widow bride 
 
 Shall soon repose her by thy slumbering side ! 
 
 Whose business now is to prepare 
 
 My nightly dress and call to prayer. 
 
 Mine eyes wax heavy, and the days grow old, 
 
 The dew falls thick — my blood grows cold : — 
 
 Draw, draw the closed curtains, and make room, 
 
 My dear, my dearest dust, I come, I come. 
 
 B 
 
EDWOETH. 
 Here lies father, and mother, and sister, and I, 
 We all died within the space of one year, 
 They be all buried at Whimble except I, 
 And I be buried here. 
 
 MAESTON. 
 
 Eobert Loder. 
 I would have my neighbours be all kind and mild, 
 Quiet and civil to my dear wife and child. 
 
 ST. PAUL'S, BEDFOED. 
 
 Patience, wife of Shadrach Johnson, 
 The mother of 24 children, and died in childbed, 
 June 6, 1717, aged 38. 
 
 Shadrach t Shadrach ! 
 The Lord granted unto thee 
 
 Patience, 
 Who laboured long and patiently 
 
 In her vocation ; 
 But her patience being exhausted, 
 She departed in the midst of her labour, 
 ^Etat. 38. 
 May she rest from her labours ! 
 
 torMiw. 
 
 WEST WOODHAT. 
 
 In the old church near Newbury, is the following 
 epitaph to the memory of Sir Ben. Eudyerd : — 
 
John Grant, in memory of his deare and honoured 
 Master Sir Benjamin Eudyerd, knight, hath affixed 
 this stone over his grave with this epitaph made by 
 Sir Benjamin in his younger years : — 
 
 Fond world, leave off this foolish trick 
 Of making epitaphs upon the dead ; 
 Eather go write them on the quick, 
 Whose soules in earthly flesh lye buried. 
 For in this grave lyes nought of me 
 But my soules grave, two graves well turned to one, 
 Thus do I live, from death made free ; 
 Trust me, good friend, I am not dead, but gone 
 To God and Christ, my Saviour alone. 
 1656. 
 
 ALDWOETH. 
 
 There is a vulgar tradition that in this place four 
 Johns were buried, and they are described as follows : — 
 John Long, John Strong, John Ever-afraid, and John 
 Never-afraid. They say that John Ever-afraid was 
 afraid to be buried either in the church, or out of it, 
 and was consequently buried under the wall, where the 
 arch appears on the outside, by the south church door. 
 
 The following is a copy of an epitaph, now almost 
 obliterated, in Speen Churchyard, and which, admired 
 tor its simple pathos, has been handed to us for 
 insertion : — 
 
 In memory of John Matthews, of Donnington, Berks, 
 1779. 
 When Heaven with equal eyes our quick'ning dual 
 Shall view, and judge the bad and praise the just, 
 
His humble merits may perhaps find room 
 "Where kings shall wish, but wish in vain to come. 
 
 SWALLOWFIELD. 
 Here lies a fair blossom mould'ring to dust, 
 Ascending to heaven, to dwell with the just. 
 
 PEWSEY. 
 
 Here lies the body of 
 
 Lady O'Looney, 
 
 Great niece of Burke, commonly 
 
 called the Sublime. 
 
 She was 
 Bland, passionate, and deeply religious ; 
 Also she painted in water colours, 
 And sent several pictures to the Exhibition, 
 She was first cousin to Lady Jones, 
 And of such is the kingdom of heaven. 
 
 NEWBUEY. 
 
 On Elizth. Daughter of James Bond, 1659. 
 
 Low, here she is, deprived of lyfe, 
 Which was a verteous and a loving wife ; 
 Until the graves again restore 
 Their dead, and Time shall be no more ; 
 She was brought a-bed but spous above, 
 And dyed to pay the living pledge of love. 
 
On a man and his wife. 
 
 Here lays John, with Mary his bride, — 
 
 They liv'd and they laugh 'd while they was able, 
 
 And at last was oblig'd to knock under the table. 
 
 On Mr. Hugh Shepley, sometime Eector of Newbvyre, 
 1596. 
 
 Full eight and twenty years he was your pastor, 
 
 As hee was taught to feede by Christ, his Master ; 
 
 By preaching God's Word, good life, good example, 
 
 (Food for your soules,fitt for God's house, or temple). 
 
 Hee loved peace, abandoned all strife, 
 
 "Was kind to strangers, neighbours, children, wife, 
 
 A lambe-like man, borne on an Easter daye, 
 
 So liv'd, do dide, so liv's again for aye ; 
 
 As one Spring brought him to this world of sinne, 
 
 Another Spring the Heavens receiv'd him in. 
 
 ALDEEMASTOK 
 
 To the precious memorie of four Virtuous Sisters, 
 daughters of Sir H. Eorster, 1623. 
 
 Like borne, like new-borne, here like dead they lye, 
 Pour virgin sisters, decked with pietie ; 
 Beavtie and other graces, which commend 
 And make them all like blessed in their end. 
 
 CHADDLEWOETH. 
 
 To the memory of Mary, wife of Thomas Nelson, of 
 this parish, who died 1618, beinge the age of 30 
 years, and had issue 7 children. 
 
6 
 
 If thou religious art that passest by 
 Stay and reade on ; as thou art so was I : 
 If thou art blest with children, and dost crave 
 In God's feare them trayned up to have 
 Eeade on agayn, and to thyself thus tell 
 Here she doth lye that was my parallell ; 
 Or art thou bounteous, hospitable, free, 
 Belov'd of all, and they beloved of thee ; 
 Meeke, full of mercy, and soe truly good 
 As flesh can be, and spronge of gentle blood ? 
 If thou art soe, to thine own dear selfe saye, 
 Who on her grave my monument did lay ? 
 But if to these thou knowest thyselfe but chaffe, 
 Pass on thy wave, read not my epitaphe. 
 
 Also Dorothy Nelson, wife of William JSTelson,who died 
 1619, being 86 years, and had issue 7 children. 
 
 It was not many yeares that made mee good, 
 
 Neither was it the vigor of my blood ; 
 
 For if soe then my goodness might have past, 
 
 And as I did, have ceast to be at laste. 
 
 But 'twas the grace my Maker did enshrine 
 
 In my meeke breast, which cleerely there did shine, 
 
 As my soule now amongst the chosen blest, 
 
 Under this stone although my bones doe rest. 
 
 ALLWOETH CHAPEL, WINDSOE. 
 Here lies a modell of frail man, 
 A tender- infant, but a span 
 In age or stature. Here she must 
 Lengthen out both bedded in dust. 
 
Nine moneths imprisoned in ye wombe 
 Eight on earth's surface free ; ye tombe 
 Must now complete her diarie, 
 So leave her to aeternatie. 
 
 "When this you see remember me 
 As I lay under ground, 
 The world say what it will of me, 
 Speak of me as you have found. 
 
 luduttjgkmsftir^ 
 
 DATCHET. 
 
 EPITAPH ON TWO SISTERS. 
 
 A tender mother, aunt, and friend, 
 They continued to their end. 
 
 HIGH WYCOMBE. 
 
 Death is a fisherman ; the world we see 
 A fish-pond is, and we the fishes be ; 
 He sometimes angles, like doth with us play, 
 And slily take us, one by one, away. 
 
 IVEE. 
 
 On William Hawkins. 
 Once at his death, and twice in wedlocke blest ; 
 Thrice happy in his labour and his rest ; 
 Espoused now to Christ, his head in life, 
 Being twice a husband, and in death a wife. 
 
8 
 
 On a Lady. 
 
 Two happy days assigned are to men — 
 Of wedlocke and of death. O happy, then, 
 'Mongs't woman was she who is here interred, 
 Who lived out two, and, dying, had a third. 
 
 On Eichard Carter. 
 
 An honest man, a friend sincere, 
 
 What more can be said ? He's buried here. 
 
 FAKNHAM. 
 
 A sudden death, a mind contented ; 
 Living beloved, dead lamented. 
 
 WYCOMBE. 
 Here lies one, whose rest 
 Gives me a restless life ; 
 Because I've lost a good 
 And virtous wyfe. 
 
 At WOOD DITTOIST, on a gravestone in which is 
 fixed an iron dish, according to the instructions of the 
 deceased : — 
 
 On William Symons, ob. 1753, set. 80. 
 
 Here lies my corpse, who was the man 
 That loved a sop in the dripping pan ; 
 But now, believe me, I am dead, 
 See here the pan stands at my head. 
 
9 
 
 Still for sops till the last I cried, 
 But could not eat, and so I died. 
 My neighbours, they perhaps will laugh, 
 When they do read my epitaph. 
 
 CAIUS COLLEGE CHAPEL, A.D. 1613 :— 
 
 On William Webbe. 
 A richer Webb than any art can weave, 
 The Soule that Eaith to Christ makes firmly cleave. 
 This Webbe can Death, nor Devils, sunder or untwist, 
 For Christ and Grace both groundwork are and List. 
 
 At CASTLE CAMPS the following quaint epitaph 
 on a former rector : — 
 
 Mors mortis morti mortem nisi morte dedisset, 
 iEternae Vitae Janua clausa foret. 
 The translation is obviously, — 
 Unless the Death of Death (Christ) had given 
 death to Death by his own death, the gate of eternal 
 life had been closed. 
 
 A poetic specimen of declension ! 
 
 ST. ANDREW'S CHURCH, CAMBRIDGE. 
 
 An angel beckoned and her spirit flew, 
 
 But oh ! her last look it cut our souls in two. 
 
 ST. MARY'S, CAMBRIDGE. 
 
 On John Foster, Esq. of that town. 
 
 2s~omen, decus, Tellus meum, 
 
 Quid referunt hsec ad te 
 
10 
 
 Genus etiamque meum, 
 Clarum quid aut humile ? 
 
 Eorsan omnes alios longe 
 
 Ego antecellui, 
 Eorsan cunctis aliis valde 
 
 (Nam quid tunc ?) succubui. 
 
 Ut lioc tu vides tumulum 
 
 Hospes certe satis est, 
 Ejus tu scis bene usum 
 
 Tegit— " Nihil" interest. 
 
 Translation. 
 
 My name, my country, what are they to thee ? 
 What, whether high or low, my pedigree ? 
 Perhaps I surpassed by far all other men, 
 Perhaps I fell below them all, what then ? 
 Suffice it, stranger, that thou seest a tomb, 
 It's use thou knowest; it hides — "no matter whom." 
 
 Here lies interred, beneath this stone, 
 The bones of a true hearty one, 
 Who lived well and died better, 
 And sings in Heaven Glory for ever. 
 
 On a Colonel in Cambridge, who going to market 
 took his death. 
 
 John Cook went to Market to buy some eels, 
 Death came behind him, and struck up his heels. 
 
11 
 
 At B ABRAHAM is this on Orazio Palovicini, who 
 was the last deputed to this country to collect the 
 Peter pence ; but instead of returning to Some, he 
 divided the spoil with the Queen, and bought the estate 
 at Babraham. 
 
 Here lies Orazio Palovicin, 
 Who robb'd the Pope to pay the Queen. 
 He was a thief. A thief? Thou liest ! 
 For why ? He robb'd but antichrist. 
 
 Him Death with besom swept from Babraham, 
 Unto the bosom of old Abraham ; 
 Then came Hercules, with his club, 
 And knocked him down to Beelzebub. 
 
 ALL SAINTS', CAMBRIDGE. 
 
 She took the cup of life to sip, 
 Too bitter 'twas to drain ; 
 
 She put it meekly from her lip, 
 And went to sleep again. 
 
 Philippa Brown, died November 22nd, 1738, aged 63. 
 Here I lie, without the door, 
 The church is full, 'twill hold no more ; 
 Here I lye, the less I pay, 
 And still I lie as warm as they. 
 When thou art dead, let this thy comfort be, 
 That all the world by turn, must follow thee. 
 
12 
 
 On Luke Simon, died May 25, 1784, aged 63. 
 
 3 Tan's life's a snare, a labyrinth of woe, 
 
 Which mortal men are doomed to struggle thro' : 
 
 To-day he's great, to-morrow he's undone, 
 
 And thus with hope and fear he travels on : 
 
 Till some disease, or else old age, 
 
 Calls us poor mortals trembling off the stage. 
 
 Epitaph of a "Wine Merchant. 
 In Obitum Mio Johannis Hammoned iEnopolae 
 
 Epitaphium 
 Spiritus ascendit generosi Nectaris astra, 
 Juxta Altare Calex hie facet ecco sacrum 
 Corporu avaaracreL cu fit Communia magna 
 Unio tunc fuerit JSTectaris et Calicis. 
 
 Copied from the tombstone of Mr. Samuel Johnson, 
 commonly called Maggotty Johnson, who was interred 
 in a plantation or wood, belonging to the Earl of 
 Harrington, in Gaws worth, near Macclesfield. 
 
 Under this stone 
 Rest the remains of Mr. Samuel Johnson, afterwards 
 ennobled with the grander title of Lord Flame. "Who, 
 after having been in his life distinct from other men by 
 the eccentricities of his genius, chose to retain the same 
 character after his death, and was, at his own desire? 
 buried here, May 5th, 1773, aged 82 yrs. 
 
 
13 
 
 Stay tliou, whom chance directs, or ease persuades 
 
 To seek the quiet of these Sylvan shades ; 
 
 Here, undisturb'd and hid from vulgar eyes, 
 
 A Wit, Musician, Poet, player lies ; 
 
 A dancing master, too, in grace he shone, 
 
 And all the acts of Opera were his own ; 
 
 In comedy well skill' d he drew Lord Flame, 
 
 Acted the part and gained himself the name. 
 
 Averse to strife, how oft he'd gravely say 
 
 These peaceful groves should shade his breathless clay ; 
 
 That, when he rose again, laid here alone, 
 
 No friend and he should quarrel for a bone ; 
 
 Thinking, that were some old lame Gossip nigh, 
 
 She possibly might take his leg or thigh. 
 
 DAVENHAM. 
 
 On David Berkenhead. 
 
 A tailor by profession, 
 
 And in the practice, a plain and honest man. 
 
 He was a useful member of society ; 
 
 For, though he picked holes in no man's coat, 
 
 He was ever ready to repair 
 
 The mischief that others did. 
 
 And whatever breaches broke out in families, 
 
 He w r as the man to mend all, 
 
 And make matters up again. 
 
 He lived and died respected. 
 
 Forty years' service in Lord Penryhn's family induced 
 Lady Penrhyn to bestow this stone to his memory. 
 
14 
 
 CHESTER, 
 
 On an Old "Woman who sold Pots. 
 
 Beneath this stone lies Cath'rine Gray, 
 Changed to a lifeless lump of clay. 
 By earth and clay she got her pelf, 
 Tet now she's turn'd to Earth herself. 
 Te weeping friends, let me advise, 
 Abate your grief, and dry your eyes. 
 Eor what avails a flood of tears ? 
 Who knows, but in a run of years, 
 In some tall pitcher or broad pan, 
 She in her shop may be again ? 
 
 Peri winks ! Periwinkle ! was ever her cry, 
 
 She laboured to live Poor and honest to die ; 
 
 At the last day Again how her old Eyes will twinkle, 
 
 For no more will she cry, Peri winks ! Periwinkle ! 
 
 Te Bich, to Virtue's want rejoicing give, 
 
 Ye Poor, by her Example learn to live. 
 
 On a Sexton. 
 Hurra ! my brave Boys, let's rejoice at his fall, 
 Eor if he had lived he had Buried us all. 
 
 On a swift-footed Man. 
 
 Here lies the swift racer; so fam'd for his running, 
 In spite of his boasting, his swiftness and cunning, 
 In leaping o'er hedges, and skipping o'er fields, 
 Death soon overtook him, and tript up his heels. 
 
15 
 
 WESTOX. 
 
 On a Parish Clerk. 
 There lies entomb' d within this vault so dark, 
 A Tailor, cloth draw'r, soldier, and a clerk. 
 Death snatch' d him hence, and also from him took 
 His needle, thimble, sword, and prayer book. 
 He could not work nor fight, what then ? 
 He left the world, and faintly cry'd — Amen. 
 
 GAWSWOETH. 
 
 Header take notice, 
 That on y e 12 Feby 1760, 
 Tho. Corbishley, 
 A brave veteran Dragoon 
 
 Here went into his quarters ; . 
 But remember that when 
 
 The trumpet calls 
 He'll out and march ae:ain. 
 
 flToriwall. 
 
 TKTJRO. 
 
 A Dyer born, a dyer bred, 
 
 Lies numbered here among the dead : 
 
 Dyers, like mortals doomed to die, 
 
 Alike fit food for worms supply. 
 
 Josephus Dyer was his name, 
 
 By dyeing he acquired fame ; 
 
16 
 
 TVas in his forty-second year, 
 
 His neighbours kind did him inter. 
 
 Josephus Dyer, his first son, 
 
 Doth also lie beneath this stone ; 
 
 So likewise doth his second boy, 
 
 Who was his parents' hope and joy. 
 
 His handiwork did all admire, 
 
 Tor never was a better dyer. 
 
 Both youths were in their fairest prime, 
 
 Ripe fruitage of a healthful clime ; 
 
 But nought can check Death's lawless aim, 
 
 Whosoever life he choose to claim ; 
 
 It was God's edict from the throne. 
 
 " My will upon earth shall be done." 
 
 Then did the active mother's skill 
 
 The vacancy with credit fill, 
 
 Till she grew old, and weak, and blind, 
 
 And this last wish dwelt on her mind — 
 
 That she, when dead, should buried be 
 
 With her loved spouse and family, 
 
 At last Death's arm her strength defied ; 
 
 Thus all the dyeing Dyers died. 
 
 LANDULPH. 
 
 On Sir Frauds Vere. 
 
 When Vere sought death, arm'd with his sword and 
 
 shield, 
 Death was afraid to meet him in the field ; 
 But when his weapons he had laid aside, 
 Death, like a coward, struck him, and he died. 
 
 ! 
 
17 
 
 ST. AGNES. 
 
 Here lies the body of Joan Carthew, 
 
 Born at St. Columb. died at St. Cue, 
 
 Children she had five, 
 
 Three are dead, and two alive, 
 
 Those that are dead chusing rather 
 
 To die with their Mother, than live with their Father. 
 
 A prolonged medical statement of the disease of 
 which the departed may chance to have died, is 
 extremely popular. At Acton, in Cornwall, there is 
 this particular account of how one Mr. Morton came 
 by his end : — 
 
 Here lies entombed one Eoger Morton, 
 Whose sudden death was early brought on ; 
 Trying one day his corn to mow off, 
 The razor slipped and cut his toe off: 
 The toe, or rather what it grew to, 
 An inflammation quickly flew to ; 
 The parts they took to mortifying, 
 And poor dear Eoger took to dying. 
 
 SOUTH PETHEEWIN. 
 
 Beneath this stone lies Humphrey and Joan, 
 "Who together rest in peace, 
 
 Living indeed, 
 
 They disagreed, 
 But now all quarrels cease. 
 
 c 
 
18 
 
 PENEYN. 
 
 Here lies William Smith, 
 And what is somewhat rarish, 
 He was born, bred, and 
 Hanged in this parish. 
 
 ST. PAUL'S CHUECHYAED, MONSEHOLE. 
 
 On Dolly Pentreath, the last woman who spoke the 
 Cornish dialect. 
 
 Old Doll Pentreath, one hundred age and two, 
 Both born and in Paul parish buried too ; 
 Not in the church 'mongst people great and high, 
 But in the church-yard doth old Dolly lie ! 
 
 CALSTOCK. 
 
 Here lies Erancis Grose, 
 On Thursday, May 12th, 1791, 
 Death put an end to 
 His views and prospects. 
 
 Susanna Jones, 
 1812. 
 
 All you that read those lines, 
 Would stop awhile and think, 
 That I am in eternity, 
 And you are on the brink. 
 
19 
 
 Mary Matthews, 
 1846. 
 This harmless dove, our tender love, 
 Flew from this world of vice, 
 To peace and rest, for ever blest, 
 With Christ in Paradise. 
 
 "William Kellaway. 
 1822. 
 My body is turned to dust, 
 As yours that living surely must, 
 Both rich and poor to dust must fall, 
 To rise again, when Christ doth call. 
 
 Elizabeth Eoskelly, 
 1844. 
 Farewell, dear husband, I bid adieu, 
 I leave nine children to God and you ; 
 I hope you'll live in peace and love, 
 I trust we all shall meet above. 
 Tho' months and years in pain and tears, 
 Through troubled paths I've trod, 
 My Saviour's voice bids me rejoice, 
 And calls my soul to God. 
 
 James Berlinner, killed at Huel Bedford, 1844. 
 Consider well both old and young, 
 
 Who by my grave do pass, 
 Death soon may come with his keen scythe, 
 
 And cut you down like grass. 
 
20 
 
 TluV some of you perhaps may think 
 
 From danger to be free, 
 Yet in a moment may be sent, 
 
 Into the grave like me. 
 
 BODMIK 
 
 Here lies the body of John Meadow, 
 His life passed away like a shadow. 
 
 TKTJKO. 
 
 Here lies we 
 
 Babies three. 
 Here we must lie 
 Until the Lord do cry, 
 " Come out, and, live wi' I !" 
 
 GUNWALLOE. 
 
 Eead backwards or forwards — 
 
 Shall we all die ? 
 "VVe shall die all. 
 All die shall we ? 
 Die all we shall. 
 
21 
 
 (TumfarlaniL 
 
 HOKSLEY-DOWK 
 
 Here lie the bodies, 
 
 Of Thomas Bond, and Mart his wife, 
 She was temperate, chaste, and charitable ; 
 
 But 
 
 She was proud, peevish, and passionate. 
 
 She was an affectionate wife, and a tender mother ; 
 
 But 
 
 Her husband and child whom she loved, 
 
 Seldom saw her countenance, without a disgusting 
 
 frown ; 
 Whilst she received visitors,whom she despised, with 
 
 an endearing smile. 
 Her behaviour was discreet towards strangers, 
 
 But 
 
 Independent in her family, 
 
 Abroad, her conduct was influenced by good 
 breeding ; 
 
 But 
 
 At home, by ill temper, 
 
 She was a professed enemy to flattery, 
 
 And was seldom known to praise or commend ; 
 
 But 
 
 The talents in which she principally excelled, 
 "Were, difference of opinion, and discovering flaws 
 and imperfections. 
 
22 
 
 She was an admirable economist, 
 
 And, without prodigality, 
 
 Dispensed plenty to every person in her family ; 
 
 But 
 
 Would sacrifice their eyes to a farthing candle, 
 She sometimes made her husband happy with her 
 good qualities ; 
 
 But 
 
 Much more frequently miserable — with her many 
 
 failings ; 
 Insomuch, that in thirty years cohabitation he 
 
 lamented 
 That maugre all her virtues, 
 He had not, in the whole, enjoyed two years of 
 
 matrimonial comfort. 
 
 At Length 
 
 Finding that she had lost the affections of her 
 
 husband, 
 As well as the regard of her neighbours, 
 Family disputes having been divulged by servants, 
 
 She died of vexation, July 20, 1768, 
 Aged 48 years. 
 
 Her worn out husband survived her 4 months and 
 2 days, 
 
 And departed this life Nov. 28, 1768, 
 
 In the 54th year of his age. 
 
 William Bond, brother to the deceased, erected 
 this stone, 
 
23 
 
 As a weekly monitor to the surviving wives of this 
 
 parish, 
 That they may avoid the infamy 
 Of having their memories handed to posterity 
 With a Patch Work character. 
 
 gwfcgsWr*. 
 
 BAKE WELL. 
 On a defunct Parish Clerk. 
 
 The vocal Powers here let us mark, 
 
 Of Philip our late Parish Clerk, 
 
 In Church was ever heard a layman, 
 
 With clearer voice say Amen? 
 
 Who now with Hallelujah sound 
 
 Like him can make the roofs rebound ? 
 
 The Choir lament his choral tones ; 
 
 The town so soon here lie his bones. 
 
 Sleep undisturbed within thy peaceful shrine, 
 
 Till angels wake thee with such notes as thine. 
 
 iwottsltiw. 
 
 STOKE ELEMMING. 
 By Dr. Walcot, alias Peter Pindar. 
 
 To the Memory of Margaret Southcotte, who died 
 the 27th of August, 1786, aged 12 years and 9 months. 
 
24 
 
 Beneath this stone, in sweet repose, 
 
 The friend of all, a fair one lies : 
 Tet hence let Sorrow vent her woes, 
 
 Far hence let Pity pour her sighs ; 
 Tho' every hour thy life approv'd, 
 
 The muse the strain of grief forbears ; 
 Nor wishes tho' by all belov'd, 
 
 To call thee to a world of cares. 
 Best of thy sex, alas ! farewell, 
 
 From this dark scene remov'd to shine, 
 "Where purest shades of mortals dwell, 
 
 And virtue waits to welcome thine. 
 
 An ill-natured critic wrote the following under these 
 beautiful lines : — 
 
 Can a Southcotte be said to deserve all the praise 
 Which above in the rhymes may be seen ? 
 
 But 'tis not impossible, since the stone says 
 She had not reached the age of thirteen ! 
 
 ST. ANDEEW'S, PLYMOUTH. 
 
 Here lies the body of James Vernon, Esq., only 
 
 surviving son of Admiral Vernon, died 23rd July, 
 
 1753. 
 
 LYDPOED. 
 
 Here lies in a horizontal position, 
 
 the outside case of 
 George Eoutleigh, Watchmaker, 
 
25 
 
 whose abilities in that line were an honour to his 
 
 profession. 
 
 Integrity was the mainspring, and prudence the regulator 
 
 of all the actions of his life ; 
 
 Humane, generous, and liberal, his hand never stopped 
 
 till he had relieved distress : 
 
 So nicely regulated was his movements, 
 
 that he never went icrong, 
 
 except when set a-going 
 
 by people who did not know his key : 
 
 Even then he was easily set right again. 
 
 He had the art of disposing of his Time, 
 
 so well, 
 
 That his hours glided away in one 
 
 continual round of pleasure and delight, 
 
 Till an unlucky moment put a period to his existence. 
 
 He departed this life November 14, 1802, 
 
 aged 57, wound up, 
 
 in hopes of being taken in hand by his Maker ; 
 
 and of being thoroughly cleaned, repaire d, and seta-going 
 
 for the w r orld to come. 
 
 Elizabeth Earington, wife of John Earington, of the 
 county of Nottingham. Twenty-five Knights were born 
 in this family. 1738. 
 
 In Oxford born, in Lydford dust I lie, 
 Don't break my grave until y e judgment day. 
 Then shall I rise, in shining glory bright, 
 To meet mv Lord with comfort and delight. 
 
26 
 • TAVISTOCK. 
 
 Under this stone lies three children dear, 
 Two be buried at Tawton, and the other here ? 
 
 BAMPTOK 
 
 A curious record of an accident occasioned by the 
 downfall of ice, is to be found as an epitaph . on the 
 son of the then parish clerk, at Bampton, who was 
 killed by an icicle falling upon and fracturing his skull. 
 
 IN MEMORY OF THE CLEEK'S SON. 
 
 Bless my i, i, i, i, i, i, 
 Here I lies, 
 In a sad pickle, 
 Killed by icicle. 
 
 In the year of Anno Domini, 1776. 
 
 Here is a still more entertaining one, upon a 
 certain lady in Devonshire, singularly free from any 
 nonsensical pretence or idle bravado : — 
 
 Here lies Betsy Cruden, 
 
 She wood a leaf'd but she cooden, 
 
 'Twas na grief na sorrow as made she decay, 
 
 But this bad leg as carr'd she away. 
 
27 
 
 KING'S TEIGNTOX. 
 
 On Eichard Adlani. 
 
 Eichardus Adlam hujus ecclesise Vicarius obit 
 Feb. 10, 1670. Apostrophe ad Mortem. 
 " Dam'n'd tyrant, can't profaner blood suffice ? 
 Must priests that offer be the sacrifice ? 
 Go tell the genii that in Hades lye 
 Thy triumphs o'er this Sacred Calvary, 
 Till some just Nemesis avenge our cause, 1 
 And force this kill-priest to revere good laws!" 
 
 SIDBUEY. 
 
 John Stone, Freemason, Jan. 1617. 
 
 On our great corner-Stone this Stone relied 
 For blessing to his building, loving most 
 
 To build God's temples, in works he died, 
 And lived the Temple of the Holy Ghost, 
 
 In whose hard life is proved and honest fame, 
 God can of Stones raise seed to Abraham. 
 
 This is a specimen of that punning so commonly 
 found in the epitaphs of the seventeenth century. 
 
 BIDEFOED. 
 
 Her marriage day appointed was, 
 And wedding- clothes provided, 
 But when the day arrived did, 
 She sickened and she died did. 
 
28 
 
 Here lies two brothers by misfortune surrounded, 
 One died of his wounds and the other was drownded. 
 
 MILTOX ABBOT. 
 
 To Bartholomew Doidge — And Joan his wife. 
 Joan was buried the 1 st day of Eeby.' 1681. 
 Bartholomew was buried the 12 th day of Feby.' 1681. 
 " She first deceas' d — he a little try'a 
 " To live without her — lik'd it not, and died." 
 
 WIVELISCOMBE. 
 
 Here lie the remains of James Pady, Brickmaker, 
 late of the parish, in hopes that his clay may be re- 
 moulded in a workmanlike manner, far superior to his 
 former perishable materials. 
 
 Keep death and Judgement always in your eye, 
 Or else the devil off with you will fly, 
 And in his kiln with brimstone ever fry. 
 If you neglect the narrow road to seek, 
 Christ will reject you, like a half Burnt Brick. 
 
 MAKER 
 
 John Philips, 1837. 
 
 Vain man, in health and strength do not confide, 
 This I enjoyed, yet in my bloom I died. 
 
29 
 
 Not long before as likely for to live, 
 -As any of the liveliest sons of Eve. 
 But death may coine in an untimely way, 
 Therefore prepare against that solemn day. 
 
 John Linning, 1S24. 
 
 Stop, reader! stop and view this stone, 
 And ponder well where I am gone. 
 Then, pondering, take thou home this rhyme- 
 The grave next opened may be thine. 
 
 Eichard Snell, 1801. 
 
 At first I had a watery grave, 
 Xow here on earth a place I have ; 
 Wife and children don't weep for me, 
 Fortune and Fate none can forsee. 
 
 DEAX PEIOE. 
 
 Sir Edward and Lady Giles. 
 Xo trust to metals, nor to marbles, when 
 These have their fate, and wear away as men ; 
 Times, titles, trophies, may be lost and spent : 
 But Virtue rears the eternal monument. 
 "What more than this can tombs or tombstones pay ? 
 But here's the sun-set of a tedious day; 
 Those two asleep are, I'll but be undrest. 
 And so to bed : pray wish us all good rest. 
 
30 
 
 WHITECHUECH. 
 
 John Spry and Margaret his wife. 
 1738. 
 
 In a good old age, 
 By death we did fall, 
 
 And hear we must lie 
 Until Christ doth call. 
 
 Gregory Nicholas. 1840. 
 
 Sleep here awhile, Thou Dearest 
 
 Part of me, and in a little while I'll 
 Come and sleep with thee. 
 
 TIVEETON. 
 
 On the tomb of Edward Courtenay, third Earl of 
 Devon, commonly called " the blind and good Earl," 
 an Epitaph, frequently quoted, appears. The Earl died 
 in 1419, and his Countess was Maud, daughter of Lord 
 Camoys. 
 
 Hoe ! hoe ! who lies here ? 
 
 I, the goode Erie of Devonshere ; 
 
 With Maud, my wife, to mee full dere, 
 
 We lyved togeather fyfty-fyve yere. 
 
 What wee gave, wee have ; 
 
 What wee spent wee had ; 
 
 What wee left, we loste. 
 
31 
 
 Dorsetshire 
 
 WIMBOKNE. 
 
 John Penny. 
 
 Here honest John, who oft the turf had paced, 
 
 And stopp'd his mother's earth, in earth is placed, 
 
 Nor all the skill of John himself could save, 
 
 From being stopp'd within an earthly grave. 
 
 A friend to sport, himself of sporting fame, 
 
 John died, as he had lived, with heart of game — 
 
 ]N or did he yield until his mortal breath 
 
 Was hard run down by that grim sportsman — Death. 
 
 Eeader, if cash thou art in want of any, 
 
 Dig four feet deep, and thou wilt find — a Penny. 
 
 WYKE. 
 
 In memory of Eniah Harisdin. 
 
 Also 4 sons who received the shock, 
 Whereof 3 lies here and one do not. 
 What caused their parents for to weep, 
 Because that one lies in the Deep. 
 
 LILLINGTOK 
 
 I poorly lived, I poorly died, 
 
 And when I was buried nobody cried. 
 
32 
 
 On Miss Knott. 
 
 Not born, not dead, not christen' d, not begot, 
 So ! here she lies, that was, and that was not ; 
 She was born, baptized, is dead, and what is more, 
 
 Was in her life, not honest, not a 
 
 Header, behold a wonder rarely wrought, 
 
 And whilst thou seem'st to read, thou readest not. 
 
 DOECHESTEE. 
 
 Erank from his Betty snatch' d by Eate 
 Shows how uncertain is our state ; 
 He smiled at morn, at noon lay dead — 
 Elung from a horse that kick'd his head, 
 But tho' he's gone, from tears refrain, 
 At judgment he'll get up again. 
 
 SILTON. 
 
 Here lies a piece of Christ — 
 
 a star in dust ; 
 A vein of gold — a china dish, 
 
 that must — 
 Be used in Heaven, when God 
 
 shall feast the just. 
 
33 
 
 Durham, 
 
 QUAKKINGTOK 
 
 To the memory of Thomas Bouchier, dated 1G3-J. 
 
 The petterne of conjugale love, the rare 
 
 Mirroure of father's care ; 
 Candid to all, his ev'ry action penn'd 
 
 The copy of a friend, 
 His last words best, a glorious eve (they say) 
 
 Foretells the glorious day, 
 Erected and composed with teares by his pensive 
 
 sonne, James Bouchier. 
 
 GATESHEAD. 
 
 On Bobert Trollop, architect of the Exchange and 
 Town Court of Newcastle : — 
 
 Here lies Bobert Trollop, 
 Who made yon stones roll up : 
 "When death took his soul up. 
 His body filled this hole up. 
 
 BEDLINGTON. 
 
 Poems and Epitaphs are but stuff. 
 
 Here lies Bobert Barras andthats enough. 
 
34 
 
 BBENTWOOD. 
 
 Here lyes Isaac Greentree. 
 A man passing through the churchyard wrote ats 
 follows : — 
 
 There is a time when these green trees shall fall, 
 And Isaac Greentree rise above them all. 
 
 MESSING. 
 
 Here lieth buried 
 John Porter, Teoman, 
 who died 29th April, 1600, 
 who had issue eight sons and 
 four daughters by one woman. 
 Learn to live by faith, as I did live before, 
 Learn u to give in faith, as I did at my door. 
 Learn u to keep by faith, as God be still thy store. 
 Learn u to lend by faith, as I did to the poor ; 
 Learn u to live, to give, to keep, to lend, to spend, 
 That God in Christ, at dayof death, may provethy friend. 
 
 CHELMSFOED. 
 
 Jane L. Andrews, set. 22. 
 How could we wish for her to stay below. 
 When joys in heaven for her prepared ? 
 May we, like her. our passport have, and know, 
 Assuredly, that we shall gain admittance there ; 
 
35 
 
 Then will her joys be ours, and own her cry, — 
 We are content to live, but we would rather die. 
 
 Here lies the man Richard, 
 And Mary his wife ; 
 Their surname was Pritchard, 
 They lived without strife ; 
 And the reason was plain, — 
 They abounded in riches, 
 They had no care or pain, 
 And his wife wore the breeches. 
 
 Martha Blewitt, 
 
 of the Swan, Baythorn-End, 
 
 of this Parish, 
 
 buried May 7th, 1681. 
 
 Was the wife of nine Husbands 
 
 successively, but the 9th outlived her. 
 
 The Text to her Funeral Sermon was : — 
 
 " Last of all the Woman died also." 
 
 MALDOiSr. 
 
 To the memory of Herbert George Anna, a third 
 child, all born at one birth, the son and daughters of 
 Samuel and Mary Lines, of this parish, who departed 
 this life 30th of April, 1847, aged 3 days. 
 
 Weep not for me, my mother dear, 
 
 Rather be you glad ; 
 
 In this world our time was short, — 
 
 The longer rest we have. 
 
36 
 
 LITTLE ILFORD. 
 
 In Memory of 
 Smart Leithceullier, Esq. 
 
 A Gentleman of polite literature and elegant taste ; 
 an encourager of art and ingenious artists ; a studious 
 promoter of literary inquiries ; a companion and friend 
 of learned men ; industriously versed in the science of 
 antiquity ; and richly possessed of the curious pro- 
 ductions of Nature : but who modestly desired no other 
 inscription on his tomb than what he had made the 
 rule of his life : — 
 
 " To do justly — to love mercy — 
 And to walk humbly with his God." 
 Born, November 3, 1701. Died, without issue, 
 August 27, 1760. 
 
 GREAT COGGESHALL. 
 
 To the Memory of 
 Thomas Hanse. 
 " Lord, thy grace is free, — why not for me ?" 
 This man dying greatly in debt, and being a bank- 
 rupt, one of his creditors, being ruined by him, wrote 
 under it : — 
 
 And the Lord answered and said, — 
 " Because thy debts a'nt paid " 
 
37 
 
 KOXWELL. 
 J. F. Hefeall. 
 
 With long affliction I was sore oppressed, 
 Till God in goodness kindly gave me rest ; 
 I left my widow' d wife and children dear 
 To His all gracious, providential care, 
 Who said do thou alone depend — 
 Who am the widow and the orphan's friend. 
 
 WALTHAM ABBEY. 
 
 To Sir Edward Denny. 
 
 Learn, curious reader, ere thou pass, 
 
 That once Sir Edward Denny was 
 
 A courtier of the chamber, 
 
 A soldier of the fielde, — 
 
 Whose tongue could never flatter, 
 
 Whose heart could never yield ! 
 
 HOENDOK 
 
 Take, gentle marble, to thy trust, 
 
 And keep unmixed this sacred dust — 
 
 Grow moist sometimes, that I may see 
 
 Thou weep'st in sympathy with me ; 
 
 And when, by him I here shall sleep, 
 
 My ashes also safely keep — 
 
 And from rude hands preserve us both, until 
 
 WerisetoSion'sMount from Horndon-on-the-Hill. 
 
38 
 
 Paul "Whitehead, Esq. 
 Of Twickenham, December 1774. 
 
 Unhallow'd hands, this urn forbear, 
 
 No gems, nor Orient spoil, 
 Lie here conceal'd, but what's more rare,- 
 
 A heart that knows no guile ! 
 
 WALTHAMSTOW. 
 
 To the memory of 
 
 Anne Pearce, who died February 22, 1822, 
 
 aged 78 years, 
 
 at the house of 
 
 Sir Eobert "Wigtram. Bart., 
 
 In whose family she lived forty-eight years, 
 
 And faithfully discharged her duty, as 
 
 Nurse to his twenty-three children ; 
 
 Of whom nineteen survive her, 
 
 And retain a grateful and affectionate 
 
 Remembrance ofher tender care and love towards them. 
 
 STANFORD. 
 
 On a brass plate in this church is the following 
 inscription : — 
 
 " Before this tabernaculle lyeth buryed Thomas 
 Greene, some tyme bayle of this towne, Margaret, and 
 Margaret, his wyves — which Thomas dyed the 8th 
 day of July, 1535. The which Thomas hath wylled a 
 prest to syng in this church for the space of 20 years, 
 
39 
 
 for hyin, his wyves, his children, and all men's soules. 
 And, moreover, he hath wylled an obyte, to be kept 
 the 8th day of July, for the term of 20 years, for the 
 soules aforesaid, and, at every tyme of the said obyte, 
 bestowed 20s. of good lawful money of England." 
 
 On the south wall are the following lines, in memory 
 of Anne, wife of William Napper, who died in 1584: — 
 In token of whose vertuous lyfe, 
 And constant sacred love, 
 And that her memory should remaine, 
 And never hence remove, 
 Her husband, in his tyme of lyfe, 
 This monument did leave his wyfe. 
 
 Here lies 
 the body of Eichard Clarke, 
 
 who died , 
 
 Aged years. 
 
 Who lies here ? Who do you think ? 
 Poor old Clarke — give him some drink. 
 What ! dead men drink ? The reason why, — 
 When he was alive he was always dry. 
 And four of his children. 
 
 CHIGWELL. 
 
 This disease you ne'er heard tell on, — 
 I died of eating too much melon ; 
 Be careful, then, all you that feed — I 
 Suffered because I was too greedy. 
 
40 
 
 LEIGH. 
 
 Here lies the body of Mary Ellis, daughter of 
 Thomas Ellis, and Lydia, his wife, of this parish. She 
 was a virgin of virtuous character, and most promising 
 hopes. She died on the 3rd of June, 1609, aged one 
 hundred and nineteen. 
 
 PEITTLEWELL. 
 
 A man has two wives buried in one grave ; and, 
 after recording their several virtues, the epitaph has 
 the following whimsical termination : — 
 
 Were it my choice that either of the twaine 
 Might be restor'd to me, to enjoy again, [whether, 
 Which should I choose?— Well, since I know not 
 I'll mourn for the loss of both— but wish for neither. 
 
 (&\ww%it\$a\t. 
 
 PAIJNTSWICK. 
 
 My time was come ! My days were spent ! 
 I was called — and away I went ! ! ! 
 
11 
 
 BRISTOL. 
 
 On Thos. Turar and Mary, his wife. He was Master 
 of the Company of Bakers. 
 
 Like to the baker's oven, is the grave 
 
 Wherein the bodyes of the faithful have 
 
 A setting in, and where they do remain, 
 
 In hopes to rise and to be drawn again ; 
 
 Blessed are they who in the Lord are dead. 
 
 Tho' set like dough they shall be drawn like oread ! 
 
 Ye witty mortals ! as you're passing by, 
 Remark that near this monument doth lie, 
 Center' d in dust, 
 Described thus : 
 Two Husbands, two Wives, 
 Two Sisters, two Brothers, 
 Two Fathers, a Son, 
 Two Daughters, two Mothers, 
 A Grandfather, a Grandmother, a Granddaughter, 
 An Uncle and an Aunt — their Niece follow' d after 
 This catalogue of persons mentioned here 
 Was only five, and all from incest free ! 
 
 I went and 'listed in the Tenth Hussars, 
 
 And gallopped with them to the bloody wars ; 
 
 " Die for your sovereign — for your country die ! " 
 
 To earn such glory feeling rather shy, 
 
 Snug I slipped home. But death soon sent me off. 
 
 After a struggle with the hooping cough ! 
 
42 
 
 Here lies poor Charlotte, 
 "Who died no harlot ; 
 
 But in her virginity, 
 Of the age nineteen, 
 
 In this vicinity, 
 Bare to be found or seen. 
 
 BEEKELEY. 
 
 Here lies the Earl of Suffolk's fool, 
 Men called him Dicky Pearce, 
 His folly serv'd to make folks laugh, 
 When wit and mirth were scarce. 
 Poor Dick, alas ! is dead and gone ! 
 WTiat signifies to cry ? , 
 
 Dickeys enough are still behind, 
 To laugh at by and by. 
 Buried 1728. 
 
 CIEE1STCESTEE. 
 
 Our bodies are like shoes, which off we cast, — 
 Physic their coblers, and Death their last. 
 
 EENDCOMBE. 
 
 In Memory of Eobert Berkeley, Esq., who died 
 
 Eeb y e 2nd, 1690, aged 76 yeares, 
 
 And Eebecca his wife, who died August^ 16th, 1707, 
 
 Aged 83. This monument was erected 
 
 by their most Dutiful and most obsequious 
 
 Daughter, Eebecca Berkeley. 
 
43 
 
 On Two Infants. 
 
 Two lovelier babes ye nare did se 
 Than God A'mighty gaed to we, 
 Bus the was o'ertaken we agur (ague) fits, 
 And hare tha lies as dead as nits ! 
 
 NOETH CEENEY. 
 
 Here lieth, ready to start, in full hopes to save his 
 
 distance, 
 Timothy Turf, formerly Stud Groom to Sir Marmaduke 
 
 Match'em, and 
 Late Keeper of theEacing Stables on Cerney Downs: — 
 
 But 
 
 Was beat out of the world on the 1st April last by 
 
 that invincible 
 
 EOCKINGHAM DEATH. 
 
 N.B. — He lived and died an honest man. 
 
 CHELTENHAM. 
 
 Here lies I and my three daughters. 
 
 Killed by a drinking of the Cheltenham waters ; 
 
 If we had stuck to Epsom salts, 
 
 "We'd not been a lying in these here vaults. 
 
 TEWKESBUEY. 
 
 On Eleanor Ereeman, set. 21. 
 
 A Virgin blossom, in her May 
 
 Of youth and virtues, turned to clay, — 
 
44 
 
 Bich earth, accomplish' d with those graces, 
 That adorn saints in heavenly places ; 
 Let not death boast his conquering power, 
 She'll rise a star that fell a flower. 
 
 KING STANLEY. 
 
 Ann Collins (died 11th Sep., 1804, ®t. 49.) 
 'Twas as she tript from cask to cask, 
 
 Id at a bung-hole quickly fell, 
 Suffocation was her task 
 
 She had no time to say " farewell." 
 
 Engraved on the Coffin of Mr. Pitcher, a noted Ale- 
 house keeper in Gloucestershire. 
 
 Stop mourning friends and shed a grateful tear 
 Upon thy once loved Pitcher's moving bier, 
 He quits this world without regret or railing, 
 Life's full of pain — he always has been aleing, 
 Eesigned he fell contented with his lot, 
 Convinced all Pitchers soon must go to Pot. 
 
 BEVEKSTONE. 
 
 In memory of Katherine Purye, who died, Dec. 1,1604. 
 
 Ao 1604. 
 
 Dece 1. ^Etat. 67. 
 
 Quaft defuncta jacet saxo tumulata sub illo 
 
 Bis Cathara, haud ficto nomine, dicta fuit. 
 
45 
 
 Noinen utrumque sonat mundam, purainque, piamq : 
 
 Et vere nomen quod referebat, erat, 
 Nam puram puro degebat pectore vitain, 
 Pura fuit mundo, nunc mage pura Deo. — 
 Tldrra KaSapa to'lq naSapolg, 
 Omnia pura puris, 
 Tit. 1. ver. 15. 
 
 She whom this stone doth quietly immure 
 
 In no feign' d way had twice the name of Pure : 
 
 Pure, pious, clean, each name did signify, 
 
 And truly was she what those names imply ; 
 
 For in pure paths, while yet she tired, she trod ; 
 
 Pure was she in this world, and now more pure with God. 
 
 TETBUKY. 
 
 In a vault underneath lie interred several of the 
 Saunderses, late of this parish, particulars the last day 
 will disclose. — Amen. 
 
 The following is said to be inscribed by a Mr. 
 Kemp on his wife : after recording her name, age, and 
 time of death — 
 
 "Whether in the other world, she'll 
 
 Know her brother John, 
 
 Or scrape acquaintance with 
 
 Her sister Soame, 
 
 Is not for me to inquire ; 
 
46 
 
 But this I know — 
 She once was mine 
 And now 
 To thee, Lord, I her resign ; 
 
 And am your humble Servant, 
 
 Robert Kemp. 
 
 ALMOKDBURY. 
 
 Here lies, alas ! long to be lamented, Benjamin 
 Dobbins, Gent., who left his Friends sorrowing. 
 Feb. 2. 1760. Aged 42. 
 
 lampafthft. 
 
 WINCHESTER. 
 
 Thomas Fletcher, a grenadier in the North Hants 
 Militia, died May 12, 1764, aged 26 years. 
 
 Here sleeps in peace a Hampshire grenadier 
 Who caught his death by drinking cold small beer. 
 Soldiers be wise from his untimely fall, 
 And when your e hot, drink strong or not at all. 
 
 Restored by the Garrison in 1718. 
 
 " An honest soldier never is forgot, 
 Whether he die by musket or by pot." 
 
47 
 BISHOPS WALTHAM. 
 
 With this world, I thank God, • 
 I have nothing more to do. 
 
 In it I found very little comfort, 
 Eeader — how is it with you ? 
 
 FEESHWATEE. 
 
 Joseph Eobins, Jan?- 21, 1811. 
 
 The blustering Winds and raging sea 
 
 Have tossed me to and fro — 
 
 Tho' some have found their watery Grave, 
 
 I am Anchored here below ; 
 
 Thus, at an Anchor safe I lie, 
 
 With the surrounding Meet, 
 
 And hope one day we shall set sail, 
 
 Our Saviour Christ to meet; 
 
 My change I hope is for the best, — 
 
 To live with Christ and be at rest. 
 
 MONK SHEEBOUEN. 
 William Cullum, d. 1841, aged 20. 
 
 Weep not for me, my tender parents dear, 
 Taken from your care in early years ; 
 Oh ! grieve not, the LOED'S will be done,- 
 Tour dutiful and affectionate son. 
 
48 
 
 WHIPPINGHAM, ISLE OF WIGHT. 
 
 Thomas Burnett. 
 1842. 
 At midnight he was call'd away 
 From his employment on the sea, — 
 Altho' his warning was but short, 
 "We hope he's reached the heavenly port. 
 
 ALRESFORD. 
 
 On an Exciseman. 
 No Supervisor's check he fears, 
 
 Now, no commissioner obeys ; 
 He's free from cares, entreaties, tears, 
 
 And all the heavenly orb surveys. 
 
 WINCHESTER COLLEGE. 
 
 John Clark. 
 
 Beneath this stone, shut up in the dark 
 A fellow and a priest yclep'd John Clark, 
 With earthly rose water he did delight ye, 
 But now he deals in heavenly aqua vitce. 
 
 ST. LAWRENCE, ISLE OF WIGHT. 
 
 To the Memory of Robert Dyer, who was drowned, 
 Aged 19. 
 Ah ! cruel death, that would not spare 
 A loving husband was so dear ; 
 
49 
 
 This world he left, and me behind, 
 The world to try, and friends to find. 
 
 Christ our Saviour is above, 
 And him we hope to see — 
 And all our friends that are behind 
 Will soon come after we. 
 
 WINCHESTEE CATHEDEAL CHUECHYAED. 
 
 This Stone 
 
 was erected by the 
 
 Brethren 
 
 of Lodge cxi. of 
 
 Eree and accepted 
 
 Masons. 
 
 As a token of respect 
 
 for their departed 
 
 Brother, 
 
 Jonathan Triggs, 
 
 who received a 
 
 Summons 
 
 From the Great Architect 
 
 Of the Universe, 
 
 At the hour of High Twelve, 
 
 on tne 24 day of October. 
 
 A. L. 5819. 
 
 A. D. 1819. 
 
 Aged 38 years. 
 
50 
 
 CAEISBEOOKE. 
 
 On a Loving Couple. 
 
 Of life he had the better slice, 
 
 They lived at once, and died at twice. 
 
 Mt[#J[Miw. 
 
 HEEEEOED. 
 A virtuous woman is 5s. Od* to her husband. 
 
 Here a lovely youth doth lie, 
 Which by accident did die ; 
 His precious breath was forced to yield, 
 Eor by a waggon he was killed ! 
 
 Alas ! no more I could survive, 
 
 Eor I is dead and not alive ; 
 
 And thou and time no longer shalt survive, 
 
 But be as dead as any man alive ! 
 
 ST. MAEY'S, HEEEEOED. 
 Here lieth old Beck, who sold fruit at the cross, 
 And now she's departed, we shall have a loss ; 
 She was a good wife, and a kind loving mother, 
 And, all things consider'd, we've scarce such another. 
 
 * A crown. 
 
51 
 
 am well: 
 
 That which a Being was — what is it ? Show 
 That Being which it was, it is not now ; 
 To be what 'tis, is not to be, you see, — 
 That which now is not, shall a Being be. 
 
 CHESHUNT. 
 
 On a Girl of eight years of Age. 
 
 She lived beloved by some ; 
 
 She died by some lamented ; 
 
 Swift was her race, and short her road ; 
 
 She closed her eyes, and saw her God ! 
 
 EAST BABXET, 
 
 Francis Eussell. 
 
 Mt. 15 months. 
 Virginity, Beauty, Honour, all in one 
 If these could turn Marble into pretious stone, 
 Stone thou art pretious, who entombed lie 
 In one all Honour, Beauty, Virginity. 
 
 MICHAELCHUKCH. 
 
 John Prosser is my name, and England is my nation, 
 Bowchurch is my dwelling place, and Christ is my 
 salvation ; 
 
 E 2 
 
52 
 
 Now I am dead, and in my grave, and all my bones 
 
 are rotten, 
 As you pass by, remember me, when I am quite 
 
 forgotten. 
 
 The Dame, who lies interred within this tomb, 
 Had Kachel's charms, and Leah's fruitful womb, 
 Kuth's filial love, and Lydia's faithful heart, 
 Martha's just care, and Mary's better part. 
 
 A comparison of the virtues of the deceased and 
 those of Scripture characters is found on a monument 
 of Sir Charles Caesar at Bennington, Herts : — 
 
 Nathaniel 
 Simplicitate 
 
 Daniel 
 Toro 
 
 Jonathan 
 Pectore 
 
 Uzziah | Josephus 
 Prole I Thoro. 
 
 Beneath this stone, where now your eye you fix, 
 Ann Harris lies, who died in sixty-six ; 
 John Harris after her his exit made 
 In eighty- two, and now is with her laid. 
 
 Sacred to the memory of Miss Martha Gwynn, 
 Who was so very pure within, 
 She burst the outer shell of sin, 
 And hatched herself a cherubim. 
 
53 
 
 HODDESDON. 
 
 Captain Henry Graves, died 17th Aug. 1702, 
 Aged 52 years. 
 
 Here, in one Grave, more than one Grave lies- 
 Envious Death at last hath gained his prize ; 
 No pills or potions could make Death tarry, 
 Resolved he was to fetch away Old Harry. 
 Ye foolish doctors, could you all miscarry ? 
 Great were his actions on the boisterous waves, 
 Eesistless seas could never conquer Graves. 
 Ah ! Colchester, lament his overthrow, 
 Unhappily, you lost him at a blow ; 
 Each marine hero for him shed a tear, 
 St. Margaret's, too, in this must have a share. 
 
 HERTFORD. 
 
 WOMAN. 
 
 " Grieve not for me, my husband dear, 
 I am not dead, but sleepeth here ; 
 With patience wait, prepare to die, 
 And in a short time you'll come to I." 
 
 MAN. 
 
 " I am not grieved, my dearest life ; 
 Sleep on, — I have got another wife ; 
 Therefore, I cannot come to thee, 
 Eor I must go and live with she." 
 
54 
 
 ALDENHAM. 
 
 John Eobinson. 
 Death parts the dearest Lovers for awhile, 
 And makes them mourn, who only used to smile, 
 But after Death our unmixt loves shall tie 
 Eternal knots betwixt my dear and I. 
 
 luniittjgdjmsltiip. 
 
 BLTTNTISHAM. 
 
 On a Wrestler. 
 Here lyes the Conqueror conquered, 
 Valiant as ever England bred ; 
 "Whom neither art, nor steel nor strength, 
 Could e'er subdue, till death at length 
 Threw him on his back, and here he lyes, 
 In hopes hereafter to arise. 
 
 Ipi 
 
 CKAYFOBD. 
 Here lieth the body of Peter Isnel (30 years clerk of 
 this parish.) 
 He lived respected as a pious and mirthful man, and 
 died on his way to church, to assist at a wedding, on 
 the 31st day of March, 1811, aged 70 years. The 
 inhabitants of Crayford have raised this stone to his 
 cheerful memory, and as a tribute to his long and 
 faithful services. 
 
55 
 
 The life of this clerk was just three score and ten, 
 Nearly half of which time he had sung out Amen ! 
 In his youth he was married, like other young men, 
 But his wife died one day, so he chanted Amen ! 
 A second he took — she departed — what then ? 
 He married and buried a third with Amen ; 
 Thus, his joys and his sorrows were treble, but then 
 His voice was deep bass as he sung out Amen ! 
 On the horn he could blow as well as most men, 
 JSo his horn was exalted in blowing Amen ; 
 But he lost all his wind after three score and ten, 
 And now, with three wives, he waits, till again 
 The trumpet shall rouse him to sing out Amen ! 
 
 SNODLAND. 
 
 Palmers al our faders were, — 
 
 I, a Palmer, lived here, 
 
 And travylled till, worne with age, 
 
 I endyd this world's pylgrymage 
 
 On the blyst Assention-day, 
 
 In the cheerful month of May, 
 
 A thousand with foure hundryd seven, 
 
 And took my jorny hense to Heven ! 
 
 MAIDSTONE. 
 
 Thomas Bradshaw, Aged S2. 
 Here lies a Keeper bred and born, 
 To turn his back he thought it scorn ; 
 
56 
 
 He was a man that had good skill, 
 
 But that bold archer, Death, who conquers all, 
 
 Shot him in the heart, and caused him here to fall, 
 
 In youth or age all flesh must die, 
 
 And turn to dust as well as I. 
 
 Stop ringers all & cast an eye, 
 You in your glory, so once was I, 
 What I have been, as you may see, 
 Which now is in the belfree. 
 
 God takes the good too good on earth to stay, 
 And leaves the bad too bad to take away. 
 The person was very aged on whose tomb-stone 
 the above was written ! 
 
 Francis Jarrett. 
 
 A man of singular wit and native honesty ! 
 Here Francis Jarrett lies ; what then ? 
 Frank, when his Master calls, will rise again. 
 
 SANDWICH. 
 
 To Thomas, son of Thomas Danson, late a Preacher 
 in this town. Born October 23, 1668 ; died October 
 23, 1674. 
 
 Upon October's three and twentieth day 
 The world began, (as learned Annals say,) 
 
57 
 
 That was this child's birthday, on which he died, 
 The world's end may in his be typified ; 
 Oh ! happy little world, whose work is done 
 Before the greater, and his rest begun. 
 
 Eobert Needier. 
 
 My resting road is found 
 
 Vain hope and hap adieu, 
 
 Love whom you list 
 
 Death hath me rid from you. 
 
 The Lord did me from London bring, 
 
 To lay my body close herein. 
 
 I was my father's only heir, 
 
 And the first my mother bare. 
 
 But before one year was spent 
 
 The Lord his messenger for me sent. 
 
 ST. PETEE'S, ISLE OF THANET. 
 
 Against his will 
 Here lies George Hill, 
 Who, from a cliff, 
 Eell down quite stiff. 
 
 FEINDSBUEY. 
 On Mrs. Lee and her son Tom. 
 In her life she did her best, 
 Now, I hope her soul's at rest ; 
 Also her son Tom lies at her feet, 
 He liv'd till he made both ends meet. 
 
58 
 
 FOLKESTONE. 
 
 Sixteen years a Maiden, 
 One twelve Months a Wife, 
 One half hour a Mother, 
 And then I lost my Life. 
 
 BEOMLET. 
 
 As Nurses strive their Babes in bed to hie 
 When they too liberally the wanton's play ; 
 So, to prevent his future grievous crimes, 
 -Nature, his Nurse, got him to Bed betimes. 
 
 In this Marble Casket lies 
 A matchless jewel of rich Prize ; 
 Whom nature, in the world's disdain, 
 But shew'd and put it up again. 
 
 Tread softly, Passenger for here doth lie, 
 A dainty Jewel of sweet Infancy : 
 A harmless Babe, that only came and cried, 
 In Baptism to be wash'd from sin, and dy'd. 
 
 EOCHESTEE. 
 
 Though young she was, 
 Her youth could not withstand, 
 Nor her protect from Death's 
 Impartial hand. 
 
 i 
 
59 
 
 Like a cobweb, be we e'er so gay, 
 And death a broom, 
 That sweeps us all away. 
 
 LEE. 
 
 In the village churchyard, near the Castle, is a 
 rather singular inscription upon a gravestone, which 
 was put up by the deceased during his life time ; and 
 when first placed there, had blanks, for inserting his 
 age and the time of his death. These blanks have long 
 since been filled up, and the whole now reads as 
 follows : — 
 
 " In memory of James Barham, of this parish, who 
 departed this life Jan. 14, 1818, aged 93 years; and 
 who from the year 1774, to the year 1804, rung, in 
 Kent and elsewhere, 112 peals, not less than 5,040 
 changes in each peal, & called bobs, &c. for most of 
 the peals ; & April 7th & 8th, 1761, assisted in ringing 
 40,320 bob-majors on Leeds bells, in 27 hours. 
 
 HEENE. 
 
 Edith Emily Mancio, 
 13 Months. 
 
 Ere sin could blight or sorrow fade, 
 Death came with friendly care, 
 The opening bud to Heaven conveyed 
 And bade it blossom there. 
 
60 
 
 This lovely bud so young and fair 
 Called hence by early doom ; 
 Just come to show how sweet a flower 
 In paradise would bloom. 
 
 Stay traveller ! and cast an eye 
 And view the ground I under lie ; 
 An accident happened one day to me, 
 And I hope it may not happen to thee. 
 
 BOBBIN. 
 
 God gave me at Kinardington in Kent, 
 My native breath, which now alas is spent, 
 My parents gave me Tylden Smith for name, 
 I to the Park farm in this Parish came ; 
 And there for many ling' ring years did dwell, 
 Whilst my good neighbours did respect me well. 
 But now my friends, I go by Nature's call, 
 In humble hopes my crimes will measure small. 
 Years following years steal something every day, 
 And lastly steal us from ourselves away. 
 Life's span forbids us to extend our cares, 
 And stretch our hopes beyond our fleeting years. 
 Mary Parminger, my wife, from East Marsh place, 
 Lies mouldering here like me, in hopes of grace. 
 
 The following Epitaph is to be found in the parish 
 church of Ightham, erected to Mrs. Selby, of the Mote 
 
61 
 
 House, Ightham, who was a beautiful worker of 
 Tapestry, whose death is said to have been caused from 
 her pricking her finger when working one Sunday. 
 There is a marble figure of her, holding a steel needle 
 in her, hand, and underneath is the following in- 
 scription : — 
 
 She was a Dorcas, 
 Whose Curious needle turned th' abused stage 
 Of this lov'd world, into the golden age, 
 Whose pen of Steele, and silken inck unroll'd 
 The acts of Jonah in records of gold, 
 Whose art disclosed that Plot, which had it taken, 
 Eome had tryumphed, and Britains wall had shaken. 
 
 She Was 
 In heart a Lydia, and in tongue a Hanna, 
 In zeale a Euth, in wedlock a Susanna, 
 Prudently simple, providently wary, 
 To the world a Martha, and to Heaven a Mary. 
 
 Died 1641. 
 
 STAPLEHTTBST. 
 
 Here lyeth the Body of Mary the daughter of W m 
 Maisa & Mary his Wife, who died Sept. 9, 1703, aged 
 22 years. 
 
 Here lyes a piece of Heaven, t' others above, 
 Which shortly goes up to the World of Love, 
 The Brightest Sweetest Angels must convey 
 The spotless Virgin on the starry way ; 
 That glittering quire sings but a lisping song, 
 Till she appears amidst the shining throng. 
 
62 
 FOLKESTONE 
 
 Rebecca Rogers. 
 A house she hath it's made of such good fashion, 
 The tenant ne'er shall pay for reparation ; 
 Nor will her landlord ever raise her Rent, 
 Or turn her out of doors for non-payment ; 
 From chimney money too this Cell is free, 
 To such a house who would not tenant be. 
 
 Henry Jeffry, leaving 8 children. 
 A faithful friend, a father dear, 
 A loving husband lieth here ; 
 My time is past, my glass is run, 
 My children dear, prepare to come. 
 
 ELTHAM. 
 
 My wife lies here beneath, 
 Alas ! from me she's flown, 
 She was so good, that Death 
 Would have her for his own. 
 
 LIVERPOOL. 
 
 On John Scott, a Brewer. 
 Poor John Scott lies buried here, 
 Tho' one he was both hale and stout, 
 
G3 
 
 Death stretched him on this bitter bier, 
 In another world he hops about. 
 
 MANCHESTER 
 
 My death did come to pass, 
 Thro' sitting on the derty grass ; 
 Here I lie where I fell, 
 If you seek my soul go to Hell. 
 
 On a profligate Mathematician. 
 
 Here lies John Hill, 
 
 A man of skill, 
 
 His age was five times ten ; 
 
 He never did good, 
 
 Nor ever would, 
 
 Had he lived as long again. 
 
 OLDHAM. 
 
 On Paul Fuller and Peter Potter, buried near each 
 other. 
 'Tis held by Peter and by Paul, 
 That when we fill our graves or urns, 
 Ashes to ashes crumbling fall, 
 And dust to dust once more returns. 
 
 So here, a truth unmeant for mirth, 
 Appears in monumental lay ; 
 Paul's grave is filled with Fuller's earth, 
 And Peter's crammed with Potter's clay. 
 
64 
 
 COLNE. 
 
 On an Idiot. 
 
 If innocence may claim a place in heaven, 
 
 And little be required from little given, 
 
 My great Creator has for me in store 
 
 A ivorld of bliss, — what can the wise have more ? 
 
 SOUTHWORTH. 
 
 The world is full of crooked streets, 
 Death is a place where all men meets, 
 If life were sold, that men might buy, 
 The rich would live, the poor must die. 
 
 EOCHDALE. 
 
 Tim Bobbin's Grave. 
 
 Here lies John and with him Mary, 
 Cheek by jowl and never vary ; 
 ~No wonder they so well agree, 
 Tim wants no punch, and Moll no tea. 
 
 BAEEOW-UPON-SOAE. 
 
 Theophilus Cave. 
 
 Here in this Grave there lies a Cave, 
 We call a Cave a Grave ; 
 
 
65 
 
 If Cave be Grave, and Grave be Cave, 
 
 Then reader, judge, I crave, 
 
 Whether doth Cave here lie in Grave, 
 
 Or Grave here lie in Cave : 
 
 If Grave in Cave here buried lie, 
 
 Then Grave, where is thy victory ? 
 
 Go, reader, and report here lies a Cave, 
 
 Who conquers Death, and lies in his own Cave. 
 
 MELTON MOWBEAY. 
 
 The world's an Inn, and I her guest : 
 I've eat and drank and took my rest, 
 With her awhile, and now I pay 
 Her lavish bill and go my way. 
 
 BAEKBY. 
 
 Francis Pox, vicar, died 1662. 
 My debt to Death is paid unto a sand, 
 And pay thou must, that there doth reading stand ; 
 And am laid down to sleep, till Christ from high 
 Shall raise me, although grim Death stand by. 
 
 HAEBT. 
 
 Mary Hill, died 1784. 
 With pain and sickness wasted to a bone, 
 Long time to gracious Heaven I made my moan ; 
 Then God at length to my complaint gave ear, 
 And sent kind Death to ease my pain and care. 
 
 F 
 
66 
 
 Physicians could no longer save the life 
 Of a tender mother and a loving wife. 
 
 lin^tttstiftij;* 
 
 The following quaint memorials of the unhonoured 
 dead, are by the minister of the small and retired 
 village of Waddingham. They have, at all events, 
 the charm of originality, and were long ago inscribed 
 in that quiet nook, where " many a holy text around 
 " is strewn, teaching the rustic moralist to die." 
 
 In love we liv'd, in peace did part, 
 
 All tho it cut us to the heart. 
 
 dear— what thoughts we two had 
 To get for our 12 Children Bread ; 
 
 Lord ! send her health them to maintain : — 
 
 1 hope to meet my love again. 
 
 O angry death yt would not be deny'd. 
 But break ye bonds of love so firmly ty 'd ! 
 She was a loving wife, a tender nurse, 
 And a faithful friend in every case. 
 
 SLEAFOKD. 
 On Henry Fox, a weaver. 
 Of tender threads this mortal web is made, 
 The woof and warf, and colours early fade ; 
 When pow'r divine awakes the sleeping dust, 
 He gives immortal garments to the just. 
 
07 
 
 EAUCEBT. 
 
 Near this place are interred the wives of Richard 
 Jessap ; viz. — Alice, on Sept. 27, 1716, aged 25, and 
 Joanna, on Aug. 31, 1720, aged 29. 
 
 How soon ye objects of my love 
 
 By death were snatcht from me ; 
 
 Two loving matrons they did prove, 
 
 No better could there be. 
 
 One child the first left to my care, 
 
 The other left me three. 
 
 Joanna was beyond compare, 
 
 A phoenix rare was she ; 
 • Heaven thought her sure too good to stay 
 
 A longer time on earth, 
 
 In childbed therefore as she lay, 
 
 To God resign' d her breath. 
 
 LINCOLN. 
 
 Here lyeth the body of 
 
 Michael Honeywood, D.D. 
 
 Who was grandchild, and one of the 
 
 Three hundred and sixty- seven persons, 
 
 That Mary the wife of Eobert Honeywood, Esq. 
 
 Did see before she died, 
 
 Lawfully descended from her, 
 
 viz : 
 
 Sixteen of her own body, 114 grand children, 
 
 288 of the third generation, and 9 of the fourth. 
 
 Mrs. Honeywood 
 
 Died in the year 1605, 
 
 And in the 78 th year of her age. 
 
68 
 
 GEANTHAM. 
 
 John Palfreyman, who is buried here, 
 Was aged four & twenty year ; 
 And near this place his mother lies ; 
 Likewise his father, when he dies. 
 
 Here lies, returned to clay, 
 Miss Arabella Young, 
 Who on the first of May 
 Began to hold her tongue. 
 
 ISLETON CUM EENBY. 
 Here Lies the body of Old Will Loveland, 
 He's put to bed with a shovel, and 
 Eased of expenses of raiment and food, 
 Which all his life-time he would fain have eschewed. 
 He grudged his housekeeping his children's support, 
 And laid in his meat of the cagge-mag sort. 
 ■No fyshe or fowle touchedhe when t'was dearly Bought, 
 But a Green taile or herrings a score for a groate. 
 
 No friend to the needy 
 
 His wealth gather' d speedy, 
 And he never did naught but evil, 
 
 He liv'd like a hogg, 
 
 He died like a dogg, 
 And now he rides post to the devil. 
 
 STAMFOED. 
 
 In remembrance of that prodigy of nature, Daniel 
 Lambert, a native of Leicester, who was possessed of 
 
69 
 
 an excellent and convivial mind, and in personal great- 
 ness he had no competitor. He measured three feet 
 one inch round the leg ; nine feet four inches round 
 the body, and weighed 52 stone 11 lb. (14 lb. to the 
 stone.) He departed this life on the 21st of June 1809, 
 aged 39 years. As a testimony of respect, this Stone 
 is erected by his friends in Leicester. 
 
 $tti£dta«*. 
 
 STEPNEY. 
 On Mary Angel. 
 To say an angel here interr'd doth lye, 
 May be thought strange, for angels never dye ; 
 Indeed some fell from heaven to hell; 
 
 Are lost and rise no more ; 
 This only fell from death to earth, 
 Not lost, but gone before ; 
 Her dust lodg'd here, her soul perfect in grace, 
 Among saints and angels now hath took its place. 
 
 On Daniel Saul. 
 Here lies the body of Daniel Saul, 
 Spitalfields' weaver — and that's all. 
 
 William "Wheatley. 
 Whoever treadeth on this stone, 
 
 I pray you tread most neatly ; 
 For underneath the same doth lie 
 
 Tour honest friend, Will Wheatly. 
 
70 
 
 STANWELL. 
 
 Margaret Grissel, wife of Eoger Grissel, Crier of this 
 Parish. 
 JNTere to this spot my wife is layd, 
 
 At rest from all her erthly laburs. 
 Glorie to God, peece to the ded, 
 And to the years [i.e. ears] of all her nayburs. 
 
 WESTMIJNTSTEE ABBEY. 
 
 (In the Abbey.) 
 Beneath this stone there lies a scull, 
 "Which when it breath' d was wondrous droll ; 
 But now 'tis dead and doom'd to rot, 
 This scull's as wise, pray is it not ? 
 As Shakspear's, Newton's, Prior's, Gay's, 
 The wits, the sages of their days. , 
 
 On John Ellis. 
 Life's uncertain, Death is sure, 
 Sin's the wound, and Christ's the cure. 
 
 On Admiral Blake, 
 Who died in August, 1657. 
 Here lies a man made Spain and Holland shake, 
 Made France to tremble, and the Turks to quake ; 
 Thus he tam'd men, but if a lady stood 
 In 's sight, it raised a palsy in his blood ; 
 
 1 
 
71 
 
 Cupid's antagonist, who on his life 
 
 Had fortune as familiar as a wife. 
 
 A stiff, hard, iron soldier, for he 
 
 It seems had more of Mars than Mercury ; 
 
 At sea he thunder'd, calm'd each rising wave, 
 
 And now he's dead sent thundering to his grave, 
 
 ST. MAEGAEET'S, WESTMINSTEB. 
 
 In Parliament, a Burgess Cole was placed, 
 In Westminster the like for many Tears, 
 But now with Saints above his Soul is graced, 
 And lives a Burgess with Heav'n's Eoyal Peers. 
 
 TEMPLE CHTTECH. 
 
 John White. 
 Here lies a John, a burning shining Light, 
 Whose Name, Life, Actions, were alike, all White. 
 
 HAMPSTEAD. 
 
 Underneath where as you see, 
 There lies the body of Simon Tree. 
 
 ST. BENNET, PAUL'S WHAEF. 
 
 Here lies one More, and no More than he, 
 One More, and no More ! how can that be ? 
 Why one More and no More may well lie here alone 
 But here lies one More, and that's More than one. 
 
72 
 
 ST. LAWRENCE JEWEY. 
 On William Bird. 
 
 One charming Bird to Paradise is flown, 
 Yet are we not of comfort quite bereft : 
 
 Since one of this fair brood is still our own, 
 And still to cheer our drooping souls is left. 
 
 This stays with us while that his flight doth take, 
 That earth and skies may one sweet concert make. 
 
 ST. ANDBEWS. 
 
 On Walter Good. 
 A thing here singular this doth unfold, 
 Name and nature due proportion hold ; 
 In real goodness who did live his days, 
 He cannot fail to die well, to his praise. 
 
 ST. GILES, CEIPPLEGATE. 
 
 On Gervase Aire. 
 
 Under this marble fair, 
 
 Lies the body entomb' d of Gervase Aire : 
 
 He dyd not of an ague fit, 
 
 Nor surfeited by too much wit, 
 
 Methinks this was a wondrous death, 
 
 That Aire should die for want of breath. 
 
73 
 ST. GILES IN THE FIELDS CHURCH. 
 
 1611. 
 
 Under this sad Marble, sleeps 
 She for whom even Marble weeps, 
 Her Praise lives still, tho' here she lyes 
 Seeming dead that never dies. 
 Eeligion, Love in suffering Breast, 
 Her Charity, Mildness, and the Eest, 
 Have crown' d her Soul ; all mourn with Fame 
 Her husband's loss, and Midwife's blame- 
 She dy'd in Child-bed 70 times blest and seven, 
 Her Child and She delivered both in Heaven. 
 Ob. die Jan. 1611. 
 
 ST. JAMES, (OLD CHURCH,) 
 
 CLERKENWELL. 
 
 Upon a very worthy friend, Master John "Weever, 
 a learned Antiquary. 
 
 Weever, who laboured in a learned strain, 
 
 To make Men long since dead to live again ; 
 
 And with expense of Oyle and Ink did watch, 
 
 From the Worm's Mouth the sleeping Corse to snatch. 
 
 Hath by his Industry begot a way, 
 
 Death (who insidiates all things) to betray ; 
 
 Redeeming freely by his Care and Cost, 
 
 Many a sad Herse, which Time long since gave lost ; 
 
74 
 
 And to forgotten Dust such spirit did give, 
 
 To make it in our memories to live 
 
 "Where Death destroyed when he had Power to save, 
 
 In that he did not seek to rob the grave. 
 
 lor whereso'er a ruined Tomb he found, 
 
 His pen hath built it new out of the ground ; 
 
 'Twixt Earth and him this interchange we find, 
 
 She hath to him, he been to her like kind ; 
 
 She was his Mother, he a grateful child, 
 
 Made her his Theme, in a large Work compiTd, 
 
 Of Funeral Eeliques, and brave Structures rear'd, 
 
 On such as seemed unto her most endear d ; 
 
 Alternately a grave to him she lent, 
 
 O'er which his Book remains a monument. 
 
 Lancashire gave me breath, 
 And Cambridge education, 
 
 Middlesex gave me death, 
 
 And this Church my humation, 
 
 And Christ to me hath given 
 A place with him in Heaven. 
 
 JEtatis sua3 56, A.D. 1632. 
 
 HEKDOK 
 
 Poor Ealph lies beneath this roof, and sure he must be 
 
 blest, 
 For though he could do nothing, he meant to do the 
 
 best, 
 Think of your soules, ye guilty throng, 
 Who, knowing what is right, do wrong. 
 
to 
 
 On Mr. Sand. 
 
 "Who would live by others' breath ? 
 
 Fame deceives the dead man's trust. 
 Even our names may change by death, 
 
 Sand I was, but now am Dust. 
 
 On Eobert Thomas Crosfield, M.D. 1802, written 
 by himself. 
 
 Beneath this stone Tom Crosfield lies, 
 "Who cares not now who laughs or cries ; 
 He laughed when sober, and, when mellow, 
 "Was a harum scarum heedless fellow : 
 He gave to none design' d offence ; 
 So " Honi soit qui maly pense !" 
 
 EDMONTON. 
 
 In the churchyard on a headstone now removed, 
 was the following inscription to William Newberry, 
 who was hostler to an inn & died 1695, in conse- 
 quence of having taken improper medicine given him 
 by a fellow servant. 
 
 Hie jacet-Newberry Will 
 
 Vitam finivit-cum Cochioe Pill ; 
 
 Quis administra? it ? Bellamy Sue ; 
 
 Quantum quantita ? nescio-scisne tu ? 
 Ne sutor ultra crepidam. 
 
76 
 
 HILLINGDON. 
 
 On Stephen King. 
 Farewell, vain world, I knew enough of thee, 
 And now am careless what thou say'st of me. 
 Thy smiles I court not, nor thy frowns I fear, 
 My soul's at rest, my head lies quiet here. 
 What faults you see in me, take care to shun, 
 And look at home, enough's there to be done. 
 
 She's gone : so reader, must you go. But where ? 
 
 ST. ALBAN'S, WOOD STEEET. 
 
 On Sir John Woodcock. 
 Hie jacet in requie Woodcock John vir generosus, 
 Major Londonise, Mercerus valde morosus. 
 Hie jacet Tom Shorthose 
 Sine tomb, sine sheets, sine riches, 
 Qui vixit sine gown 
 Sine cloaJce, sine shirt, sine britches. 
 
 Sir J. W. was a Mercer, and a Mayor of London in 
 1405. 
 
 On Lady Molesworth. 
 
 A peerless matron, pride of female life, 
 In every state, as widow, maid or wife ; 
 Who, wedded to threescore, preserved her fame, 
 She liv'd a phoenix, and expired in flame. 
 
77 
 
 ST. GEOKGE'S, BLOOMSBUET. 
 
 On an aged priest and his sister, Andrew Philip 
 and Elizabeth Postor. 
 
 Brother and sister, wise, and good, and kind, 
 Twain in the person, unit in the mind ; 
 Here, in the silent region, rest beneath, 
 Kindred ne'er parted till the hour of death. 
 The brother, called to nature's common doom, 
 Open'd his sister's pathway to the tomb ; 
 Taught her how patient faith should cheerful die, 
 Then call'd her early, ere her tears were dry. 
 When Heaven thy judgment shall on earth be done, 
 O, part them not, for they in life were one ; 
 Make not their future worse than living lot, 
 Call them together, or awake them not. 
 
 Peter Spencee. 
 
 KENSINGTON. 
 
 Here are deposited the remains of Mrs. AnnFloyer, 
 the beloved wife of Mr. E d Floyer, of Thistle Grove, 
 in this parish, died on Thursday, the 8th of May, /23. 
 
 God hath chosen her as a pattern for the other angels. 
 
 TEMPLE CHUKCH. 
 
 Keep well this pawn, thou marble chest, 
 Till it be called for, let it rest ; 
 Eor while this jewel here is set, 
 The grave is but a cabinet. 
 
78 
 
 ST. MAEY LE BOW CHUECH. 
 
 Eaine blow aloud, and to the "World proclaim, 
 
 There never ruled such a Boyal Dame. 
 
 The Word of God was ever her delight 
 
 In it she meditated Day and Night. 
 
 Spain's Eod, Kome's ruin, Netherlands Belief, 
 
 Earth's Joy, England's Gem, World's Wonder, 
 
 Nature's Chief. 
 She was and is, what can there more be said ! 
 On Earth the Chief, in Heav'n the 2nd Maid. 
 
 ST. DUNSTAN. 
 
 Here lies Dame Dorothy Peg, 
 
 Who never had issue except in her leg, 
 
 So great was her art, and so deep was her cunning, 
 
 Whilst one leg stood still the other kept running. 
 
 CH1SWICK. 
 
 The illustrious Hogarth is buried in this church- 
 yard, and the following lines, by David Garrick, are 
 inscribed on the tomb : — 
 
 Farewell ! great painter of mankind, 
 
 Who reached the noblest point of art, 
 Whose pictur'd morals charm the mind, 
 And through the eye correct the heart. 
 
 
79 
 
 If genius fire thee, reader, stay, 
 If nature move thee, drop a tear, 
 
 If neither touch thee, turn away, 
 
 For Hogarth's honoured dust lies here. 
 
 ST. MICHAEL'S, CEOOKED LANE. 
 
 Here lyeth, wrapfc in clay, 
 The body of William Wray ; 
 I have no more to say. 
 
 ST. ANNE'S, SOHO. 
 
 On Theodore, King of Corsica, written by Horace 
 AValpole. 
 
 Near this place is interred 
 Theodore, King of Corsica, 
 "WTio died in this parish Dec. 11, 1756, 
 Immediately after leaving the King's Bench prison, 
 By the benefit of the Act of Insolvency, 
 In consequence of which he resigned 
 His Kingdom of Corsica 
 Eor the use of his creditors. 
 The grave, great teacher, to a level brings 
 Heroes and beggars, galley slaves and kings, 
 But Theodore this moral learn'd ere dead, 
 Pate pour'd its lessons on his living head, 
 Bestowed a kingdom and denied him bread. 
 
80 
 
 IftonmflutMire- 
 
 CHEPSTOW. 
 
 Here or elsewhere (all's one to you or me), 
 Earth, air, and water, gripes my ghostly dust, 
 None knows how soon to be by fire set free ; 
 Reader, if you an old try'd rule will trust, 
 You'll gladly do and suffer what you must. 
 My time was spent in serving you and you, 
 And death's my pay, it seems, and welcome too. 
 Eevenge destroying but itself, while I 
 To birds of prey leave my old cage and fly ; 
 Examples preach to the eye — care then (mine says) 
 Not how you end, but how you spend your days. 
 
 In the passage leading from the nave to the north 
 aisle in this church, is interred the body of Henry 
 Marten, one of the Judges who presided at the trial 
 of Charles If* with the following Epitaph over him, 
 written by himself: — 
 
 Here Sept. 9«? 1680, 
 was buried 
 A true born Englishman, 
 Who, in Berkshire was well known, 
 To love his country's freedom like his own, 
 But being immured full twenty years, 
 Had time to write as doth appear. 
 
81 
 
 MATHEBN. 
 
 John Lee is dead, that good old man, 
 Tou ne'er will see him more, 
 He used to wear an old brown Coat, 
 All buttoned down before. 
 
 forfolL 
 
 HOTHILL. 
 
 On Miles Branthwaite. 
 
 If Death would take an answer, he was free 
 
 From all those seats of ills that he did see, 
 
 And gave no measure that he would not have 
 
 Given to him as hardly as he gave : 
 
 Then thou, Miles Branthwaite, might have answer' < 
 
 Death, 
 And to be so moral might boyle breath, 
 Thou wast not yet to die. But be thou blest, 
 From weary life thou art gone quiet to rest, 
 Joy in the freedom from a prison, thou 
 Wast by God's hands pluckt out but now, 
 Free from the dust and cobwebs of this vale; 
 And richer art thou by the heavenly bail 
 Than he that shut thee up. This heap of stones 
 To thy remembrance, and to chest thy bones, 
 Thy wife doth consecrate ; so sleep till then, 
 When all graves must open, all yield up their men. 
 
 G 
 
82 
 
 N0KWICH. 
 
 On Thomas Legge. 
 
 That love that living made us two but one, 
 Wishes at last we both may have this tomb. 
 The head of Gostlin still continues here, 
 As kept for Legge, to whom it was so dear. 
 By death he lives, for ever to remain, 
 And Gostlin hopes to meet him once again. 
 
 Sarah York this life did resigne 
 On May the 13th, 79. 
 
 Old Men's Hospital, Nobwich. 
 
 In Memory of Mrs. Phoebe Crewe, who died May 
 28, 1817, aged 77 years. 
 
 Who, during forty years 
 
 practice as a midwife 
 
 in this City, brought into 
 
 the world nine thousand 
 
 seven hundred and 
 
 thirty children. 
 
 Here lies the body of honest Tom Page 
 Who died in the 33rd year of his age. 
 
 
83 
 
 On Bryant Lewis, who was barbarously murdered 
 upon the heath near Thetford, Sept. 13, 1698. 
 
 Fifteen wide wounds this stone veils from thine eyes. 
 But reader, hark ! their voice doth pierce the skies. 
 Vengeance, cried Abel's blood, against cursed Cain, 
 But better things spake Christ when he was slain. 
 Both, both, cries Lewis 'gainst his barbarous foes, 
 Blood, Lord, for blood, but save my soul from woe. 
 
 John Powl. 
 
 Though Death hath seized on me as his prey, 
 Yet all must know we have a judgment day. 
 Therefore whilst life on earth in you remain, 
 Praise all your God who doth your lives maintain, 
 That after death to glory he may us raise, 
 Yield to His Majesty honour, laud, and praise. 
 
 Henry Hall, 
 
 The phoenix of his time 
 
 Lies here but sordid clay ; 
 
 His thoughts were most sublime ; 
 
 His soul is sprung away. 
 
 Then let this grave keep in protection 
 
 His ashes until the resurrection. 
 
84 
 
 On TJrith Leverington. 
 
 The night is come ; for sleep, lo ! here I stay, 
 
 My three sweet babes sleep here — we wait for day, 
 
 That we may rise, and up to bliss ascend, 
 
 Where crowns, and thrones, and robes shall us attend. 
 
 Thy worst is past, Death ; thou'st done thy part, 
 
 Thou could' st but kill, we fear no second dart. 
 
 Anne Harsnet. 
 
 Heaven, has her Charitie, 
 The good, her Fame, 
 The Church, her Pietie, 
 This Stone, her Name. 
 
 DTTNSTON. 
 
 Israel and Sarah Long. 
 
 Here lies a Noble Pair, who were in name 
 In Heart, in Mind, and Sentiments the same, 
 The Arithmetick Eule then can't be true, 
 For One and One did never here make Two. 
 
 SWANTON MOELEY. 
 
 On Tho s . Heming — Attorney. 
 
 Weep, widows, orphans ; all your late support, 
 Himself is summon' d to a higher court : 
 Living he pleaded yours, but with this clause, 
 That Christ at death should only plead his cause. 
 
85 
 
 COYSTWICK. 
 
 On Mrs. Sarah Mills, 
 
 Mrs. Eebecca Ward. 
 Under this stone, in easy slumber lies 
 Two dusty bodies, that- at last shall rise : 
 Their parted atoms shall again rejoin, 
 Be cast into new moulds by hands divine. 
 
 HENNINGHALL. 
 
 John Kett. 
 Though we did live so many years, 
 Prepare, O youth, for Death, 
 Tor if he should at noon appear, 
 You must give up your breath. 
 
 HADDISCOE. 
 
 William Salter. 
 Here lies Will Salter, honest man, 
 Deny it, Envy, if you can ; 
 True to his business and his trust, 
 Always punctual, always just ; 
 His horses, could they speak, would tell 
 They loved their good old master well. 
 His up-hill work is chiefly done, 
 His stage is ended, race is run ; 
 One journey is remaining still, 
 To climb up Sion's holy hill. 
 
86 
 
 And now his faults are all forgiven, 
 Elij ali-like drives up to heaven, 
 Takes the reward of all his pains, 
 And leaves to other hands the reins. 
 
 HUNSTANTON. 
 
 I am not dead, but sleepeth here, 
 
 And when the trumpet sounds I will appear. 
 
 Pour balls through me pierced their way, 
 
 Hard it was, I had no time to pray. 
 
 The stone that here you do see 
 
 My comrades erected for the sake of me. 
 
 SWAFFHAM. 
 
 On a Lawyer. 
 Here lieth one, believe it if you can, 
 Who tho' an attorney was an honest man, 
 The gates of heaven shall open wide, 
 But will be shut against all the tribe beside. 
 
 THETFOED. 
 
 My grandfather was buried here, 
 
 My cousin Jane, and two uncles dear ; 
 
 My father perished with a mortification in his thighs, 
 
 My sister dropped down dead in the Minories. 
 
87 
 
 But the reason why Iamhere,accordingtomy thinking, 
 Is owing to my good living and hard drinking, 
 Therefore good Christians, if you'd wish to live long, 
 Beware of drinking brandy, gin, or anything strong. 
 
 LODDON. 
 
 When on this spot, affection's down-cast eye 
 The lucid tribute shall no more bestow ; 
 
 "When Friendship's breast no more shall heave a sigh, 
 In kind remembrance of the dust below ; 
 
 Should the rude Sexton, digging near this tomb, 
 
 A place of rest for others to prepare, 
 The vault beneath, to violate, presume, 
 
 May some opposing Christian cry, " Forbear — 
 
 " Forbear, rash mortal, as thou hop'st to rest, 
 When death shall lodge thee in thy destin'd bed* 
 
 With ruthless spade, unkindly to molest 
 
 The peaceful slumbers of the kindred dead ! " 
 
 GILLINGHAM. 
 
 On an Actor. 
 Sacred to the memory of Thomas Jackson, 
 Comedian, who was engaged December 21st, 1741, to 
 play a comic cast of characters in this great theatre, 
 the world, for many of which he was prompted by 
 nature to excel. — The season being ended — his benefit 
 over— the charges all paid, and his account closed, he 
 
88 
 
 made his exit in the tragedy of Death, on the 17th 
 of March, 1798, in full assurance of being called once 
 more to rehearsal, and where he hopes to find his 
 forfeits all cleared, his cast of parts bettered, and his 
 situation made agreeable by Him who paid the great 
 stock debt, for the love He bore to performers in 
 general. 
 
 LYNN. 
 
 "William Scrivenor, 
 Cook to the Corporation. 
 Alas ! alas ! Will Scriviner's dead, who by his art 
 Could make death's skeleton edible in each part ; 
 Mourn, squeamish stomachs, and ye curious palates, 
 You've lost your dainty dishes and your salades ; 
 Mourn for yourselves, but not for him i' th' least, 
 He's gone to taste of a more Heav'nly feast. 
 
 Ijtorifcamjrtousltiw. 
 
 BAENWELL. 
 
 An Innkeeper. 
 
 Man's life is like a winter s day, 
 Some only breakfast and away ; 
 Others to dinner stay and are full fed, 
 The oldest man but sups and goes to bed ; 
 Large is his debt who lingers out the day, 
 "Who goes the soonest has the least to pay ; 
 
89 
 
 Death is the waiter, some few run on tick, 
 And some, alas ! must pay the bill to Nick ! 
 Tho' I owe'd much, I hope long trust is given, 
 And truly mean to pay all debts in heaven. 
 
 PETEKBOKOUGH. 
 
 On Sir Eichard "Worme. 
 Does Worm eat Worme ? Knight Worme this truth 
 
 confirms, 
 For here, with worms, lies Worme, a dish for worms. 
 Does worm eat Worme ? sure Worme will this deny, 
 Eor Worme with worms, a dish for worms don't lie. 
 'Tis so, and 'tis not so, for free from worms, 
 'Tis certain Worme is blest without his worms. 
 
 Jane Parker. 
 Heare lyeth a midwife brought to bed, 
 Deliveresse delivered ; 
 Her body being churched here, 
 Her soule gives thanks in yonder sphere. 
 
 GAYTON. 
 
 On William Houghton. 
 Neere fourscore years have I tarryed 
 To this mother to be marryed ; 
 One wife I had, and children ten, 
 God bless the living. Amen, Amen. 
 
90 
 
 NORTHAMPTON. 
 Pray for me, old Thomas Dunn, 
 But if you don't, 'tis all one. 
 
 Here lies the corpse of Susan Lee, 
 Who died of heartfelt pain ; 
 Because she loved a faithless he, 
 "Who loved not her again. 
 
 NEWARK 
 
 Front earth my body first arose, 
 And now to earth again it goes : 
 I ne'er desire to have it more, 
 To tease me as it did before. 
 
 Ijtmtifmmkrlattl 
 
 NEWCASTLE. 
 
 Here lies poor Wallace, 
 
 The prince of good fellows, 
 
 Clerk of Allhallows, 
 
 And maker of bellows. 
 He bellows did make to the day of his death, 
 But he that made bellows could never make breath. 
 
 BALLAST HILLS. 
 
 When I enjoyed this mortal life, 
 
 This stone I ordered from Scotland's Fife, 
 
91 
 
 To ornament the burial place 
 Of ine, and all my human race. 
 Here lies James, of tender affection, 
 Here lies Isabel, of suett complexion ; 
 Here lies Kaiherine, a pleasant child, 
 Here lies Mary, of all most mild ; 
 Here lies Alexander, a babe most sweet, 
 Here lies Jannet, as the Lord saw meet. 
 
 ALNWICK. 
 
 Here lieth Martin Elphinston, 
 Who with his sword did cut in sun- 
 der the daughter of Sir Harry 
 Crispe, who did his daughter marry. 
 She was fat and fulsome ; 
 But men will some- 
 times eat bacon with their bean, 
 And love the fat as well as lean. 
 
 TTNEMOUTH. 
 
 Wha lies here ? 
 Pate Watt, gin ye speer. 
 Poor Pate ! is that thou ? 
 Ay, by my soul, is 't ; 
 But I's dead now. 
 
92 
 
 ILDEKTOK 
 
 Under this stone lies Bobbity John, 
 Who, when alive, to the world was a wonder ; 
 And would have been so yet, had not death in a fit, 
 Cut his soul and his body asunder. 
 
 ALVEETOK 
 
 Beneath the droppings of this spout,* 
 There lies the body once so stout, 
 
 Of Francis Thompson. 
 A soul this carcase long possess'd, 
 Which for its virtue was caress' d, 
 By all who knew the owner best. 
 The Buffbrd] records can declare 
 His actions, who, for seventy year, 
 Both drew and drank its potent beer. 
 Fame mentions not in all that time, 
 In this great Butler the least crime, 
 
 To stain his reputation. 
 To Envy's self we now appeal, 
 If ought of fault she can reveal, 
 To make her declaration. 
 Then rest, good shade, nor hell nor vermin fear ; 
 Thy virtues guard thy soul — thy body good strong beer. 
 He died July 6, 1739, aged 83. 
 
 * The stone joins to the south wall of the church, under one 
 of the spouts. 
 
 + Rufford Abbey, then the seat of Sir George Saville, Baronet, 
 in whose family the person had lived as butler. 
 
93 
 
 EDWALTOX, 
 
 Eebecca Freeland. 
 
 She drank good ale, good punch and wine, 
 And lived to the age of 99. 
 
 OXFOED. 
 Fair Eosomond's Tomb. 
 
 Bosoinond was buried at G-odstow, a small island, 
 formed by the divided stream of the Isis, in the parish 
 of Wolvercot, near Oxford. The following quaint 
 epitaph was inscribed upon her tomb : — 
 
 Hie jacet in Thumba, EosaMundi, non Eosamunda, 
 Xon redolet sed olet, quae redolere solet. 
 
 Imitated in English. 
 Here lies not Eose the chaste, but Eose the Fair, 
 Her scents no more perfume, but taint the air. 
 Another translation. 
 The Eose of the world, a sad minx, 
 
 Lies here ; — let's hope she repented : 
 
 She doesn't smell well now, but stinks, — 
 
 She always used to be scented. 
 
 Another : 
 
 Here doth Fayre Eosamund like any peasant lie : 
 
 She once was fragrant, but now smells unpleasantly* 
 
94 
 
 On Meredith — an Organist. 
 Here lies one blown out of breath, 
 Who lived a merry life, and died a Merideth. 
 
 On a Letter Founder. 
 Under this stone lies honest Stl, 
 Who dy'd — though sore against his will ; 
 Tet in his fame, he shall survive,— 
 Learning shall keep his name alive ; 
 For he the parent was of letters, 
 And founded, to confound his betters ; 
 Though what those letters should contain, 
 Did never once concern his brain. 
 Since therefore, Eeader, he is gone, 
 Pray let him not be trod upon. 
 
 Here lies the body of John Eldred, 
 At least he will be here when he is dead. 
 But now at this time he is alive, 
 The 14th of August sixty-five. 
 
 Here lies the body of Ann Sellars, buried by this stone, 
 
 Who dyed on January 15th day, 1731. 
 
 Likewise here lies dear Isaac Sellars, my Husband 
 
 and my Eight, 
 Who was buried on that same day come seven years, 
 
 1738. 
 
 
95 
 
 In seven years time there comes a change ! observe, 
 
 and here you'll see 
 On that same day come seven years, my husband's 
 
 laid by me. 
 
 E. Gr. Hancock, died August 3, 1666. 
 
 John Hancock, Sen. 4, 
 
 John Hancock, Jun. 7, 
 
 Oner Hancock, 7, 
 
 "William Hancock, 7, 
 
 Alice Hancock, 9, 
 
 Ann Hancock, 10, 
 
 What havoc Death made in one family, in the 
 course of Seven days. 
 
 ST. PETER'S CHUECH. 
 
 Herelyeth W m . Eawlinson'stwo younger Daughters. 
 Elizabeth, who dyed May y e 21, 1624, and Dorothy, 
 who dyed Jan. 10, 1629. 
 Two little sisters ly under this stone 
 Their Mothers were two, their Fathers but one. 
 At 5 quarters old departed y e younger, 
 The older lived 9 years 5 days, and no longer. 
 Learn hence y e yong gallants to cast away laughter, 
 As soon comes ye lamb as y e sheep to y e slaughter. 
 
 E1N T SHAM. 
 On John Green. 
 If true devotion or tryde honesty 
 Could have for him got long lives liberty, 
 
96 
 
 Nere had he withered but still growne Green, 
 Nor dyed but to ye Poor still helping been. 
 But he is tane from us yet this we comfort have, 
 Heaven hath his Soule still (Green) though body is 
 wasting Grave, 
 In progeniem filii defunctam adjacentam. 
 
 My fruit first failed here we low ly, 
 Live well then, fear not all must dy. 
 
 BANBUEY. 
 
 Here do lye our dear boy, 
 "Whom God hath tain from we ; 
 And we hope that us shall go to he, 
 For he can never come back again to we. 
 
 NETTLEBED. 
 
 Both young and old that passeth by, 
 Remember well that here lies I, 
 Then think on death, for soon too true, 
 Alas twill be that here lies you. 
 
 BENSINGTOJST. 
 
 On a head-stone for an infant of two years of age. 
 
 The railing world turn'd poet, made a play, 
 I came to see it, dislik'd, and went away. 
 
97 
 
 A doctor of divinity, who lies in the neighbourhood 
 of Oxford, has his complaint stated for him with 
 unusual brevity, as well as his place of interment : — 
 
 He died of a quinsy, 
 And was buried at Binsy. 
 
 SHKEWSBUKY. 
 
 On an Old Maid. 
 
 Here lies the body of Martha Dias, 
 
 Who was always uneasy, and not over pious ; 
 
 She lived to the age of threescore and ten, 
 
 And gave that to the worms she refused to the men. 
 
 On a Watchmaker. 
 
 Thy movements, Isaac, kept in play, 
 Thy wheels of life felt no decay 
 
 For fifty years at least ; 
 Till, by some sudden, secret stroke, 
 The balance of the mainspring broke, 
 
 And all the movements ceas'd. 
 
 SHIFFNALL. 
 
 August 7th, 1714, Mary, the wife of Joseph Yates, 
 of Lizard Common, within the parish, was buried, aged 
 
98 
 
 127 years. She walked to London just after the Fire, 
 in 1666 ; was hearty and strong at 120 years ; and 
 married a third husband at 92. 
 
 CEUN. 
 
 Charles Duke. 
 
 Joyous his birth, wealth o'er his cradle shone, 
 Gen'rous he prov'd, far was his bounty known ; 
 Men, horses, hounds were feasted at his hall, 
 There strangers found a welcome bed and stall ; 
 Quick distant idlers answer' d to his horn, 
 And all was gladness in the sportsman's morn. 
 
 But evening came, and colder blew the gale, 
 Means, overdone, had now began to fail; 
 His wine was finished, and he ceas'd to brew, 
 And fickle friends now hid them from his view. 
 Unknown, neglected, pin'd the man of worth, 
 Death his best friend, his resting-place the Earth. 
 
 The following is copied from a head-stone, set up in 
 the churchyard of High Ercall. Those who are fond 
 of the sublime, will certainly rejoice over this precious 
 poetical morsel : — 
 
 Salop, Oct. 1797. 
 
 Elizabeth, the Wife of Kichard Baablamb, 
 
 passed to Eternity on Sunday, the 21st of May, 
 
 1797, in the 71st year of her age. 
 
99 
 
 When terrestrial all in Chaos shall Exhibit efferves- 
 cence, 
 
 Then Celestial virtues in their most Refulgent Brilliant 
 essence, 
 
 Shall with beaming Beauteous Eadiance, thro' the 
 ebullition Shine ; 
 
 Transcending to Glorious Eegions Beatifical, Sublime. 
 
 CHUECH STEETTO]Sr. 
 
 On a Thursday she was born, 
 On a Thursday made a bride, 
 On a Thursday put to bed, 
 On a Thursday broke her leg, and 
 On a Thursday died. 
 
 gomtrfitttihixt. 
 
 BAEWICK. 
 
 Sarah Higmore, set. 6. 
 
 Te modern fair, whoe'er you be, 
 
 This Truth we can aver ; 
 A lesson of Humility 
 
 Tou all may learn from her. 
 She had what none of you can boast, 
 
 With all your Wit and Sense — 
 She had what you, alas ! have lost, 
 
 And that was — Innocence. 
 
100 
 
 TAUNTON. 
 
 James "Waters. 
 
 Death, traversing the western road, 
 And asking where true merit lay, 
 Made in this town a short abode, 
 And took this worthy man away. 
 
 YEOVIL. 
 John Webb, 
 Son of John and Mary Webb, Clothiers, w r ho died of 
 the measles, May 3d, 1646, aged 3 years. 
 How still he lies ! 
 And clos d his eyes, 
 That shone as bright as day ! 
 The cruel measles, 
 Like clothiers' teasels, 
 Have scratched his life away. 
 
 Cochineal red, 
 
 His lips have fled, 
 Which now are blue and black. 
 
 Dear pretty wretch, 
 
 How thy limbs stretch, 
 Like cloth upon the rack. 
 
 Bepress thy sighs, 
 
 The husband cries, 
 My dear, and not repine, 
 
 .For ten to one, 
 
 When God's work's done, 
 He'll come off superfine. 
 
101 
 
 £iaflor L Miiie. 
 
 TOXHALL. 
 
 On Anthony Cooke, who died on Easter Monday, 
 
 At the due sacrifice of the Paschall Lambe, 
 April had 8 days wept in showers, then came 
 Leane, hungry death, who never pitty tooke, 
 And cause the feast was ended, slew this Cooke. 
 On Easter Monday, he lyves then noe day more, 
 But sunk to rise with him that rose before ; 
 He's here in tomb' d ; a man of virtue's line 
 Out reacht his yeares, yet they were seventy-nine. 
 He left on earth ten children of eleven 
 To keep his name, whilst himself went to heaven. 
 
 BILSTON. 
 
 In Mem. of Mary Maria, wife of W ra Dodd, who 
 died Dec r 12th, A.D. 1847, aged 27. Also of their 
 children, Louisa, who died Dec r 12th, 1847, aged 
 9 months ; and Alfred, who died Jan? 3rd, A.D. 1848, 
 aged 2 years and 9 months. \ 
 
 All victims to the neglect of sanitary regulation, 
 and specially referred tg in a recent lecture on Health 
 in this town. 
 
 And the Lord said to the angel that destroyed, it 
 is enough, stay now thine hand. — 1 Chron. xx. 17. 
 
 In Mem. of Joseph, son of Joseph and Mary Meek, 
 who was accidentally drowned in the cistern of the day 
 
102 
 
 school adjoining this church, April 30th, 1845, aged 
 8 years. This distressing event is recorded by the 
 minister, as an expression of sympathy with the 
 parents and caution to the children of the school — a 
 reproof to the proprietors of the open wells, pits and 
 landslips ; the want of fencing about which is the 
 frequent cause of similar disaster in these districts ; 
 and as a memento to all of the uncertainty of life, and 
 the consequent necessity of immediate and continued 
 preparation for death. 
 
 " If any man ask you, "Why do you loose him ? 
 Then shall ye say unto him, Because the Lord hath 
 need of him."*— Luke xix. 31. 
 
 STAFFOED. 
 
 Here Leah's fruitfulness, 
 Here Eachael's beauty ; 
 
 Here lyefch Rebecca's faith, 
 Here Sarah's duty. 
 
 WOLSTANSTON. 
 
 Ann Jennings. 
 
 Some have children, some have none ; 
 Here lies the mother of twenty-one. 
 
 * A woman inferring that her husband is an ass colt. 
 
103 
 
 LICHFIELD. 
 
 Live well — die never ; 
 Die well — live for ever. 
 
 WOLYEEHAMPTOX. 
 
 Here lie the bones 
 
 Of Joseph Jones, 
 
 Who eat whilst he was able j 
 
 But once o'er fed, 
 
 He dropt down dead, 
 
 And fell beneath the table. 
 
 When from the tomb, 
 
 To meet his doom, 
 
 He rises amidst sinners : 
 
 Since he must dwell 
 
 In heav'n or hell, 
 
 Take him — which give best dinners ! 
 
 BUKY ST. EDMUNDS. 
 
 The following whimsical epitaph appears upon a 
 white marble slab, in a conspicuous part of the church 
 of St. Mary : — 
 
 Near this place are deposited the remains of Gedge, 
 Printer, who established the first newspaper that has 
 been published in this town. Like a worn out type, 
 
104 
 
 he is returned to the founder \ in the hope of being 
 recast in a better and more perfect mould. 
 
 Here lies the husband of a loving wife, 
 
 She lost all earthly comfort when he lost his life ; 
 
 A sudden death, a shocking sight to see, 
 
 His last life's blood was sprinkled over she. 
 
 i 
 
 HADLEIQH. 
 
 The Charnel mounted on his "W 
 Set to be seen in Euner 
 A Matron playn Domestic 
 In Houswiefry a Princip 
 In Care and Payns continu 
 Not slow nor Gray nor Prodig 
 Yet Neighbourly and Hospit 
 Her Children seven yet living 
 Her sixty-seventh year hence did C 
 To rest her body Natur 
 In hope to rise Spiritu 
 
 Ellen, Wief of Eobert Eeson, 
 Alderman of this Town, shee deceased 
 Januy. 8, 1630, and is interred 
 below hereby. 
 
 Sail 
 
 On little Stephen, a noted fiddler. 
 Stephen and Time 
 
 Are now both even ; 
 Stephen beat Time, 
 
 Now Time beats Stephen. 
 
105 
 
 Life is only pain below, 
 
 When Christ appears, then up we go ! 
 
 IPSWICH. 
 
 On John Warner. 
 
 I Warner once was to myself, 
 Now Warning am to thee, 
 
 Both living, dying, dead I was, 
 See then thou warned be. 
 
 On — More, of Norwich. 
 
 More had I once, More would I have ; 
 
 More is not to be had. 
 The first I . . . the next in vaine ; 
 
 The third is too too bad. 
 If I had us'd with More regard 
 
 The More that I did give, 
 I might have made More use and fruit 
 
 Of More while he did live. 
 
 THTJELOW. 
 
 Here she lies, a pretty bud, 
 Lately made of flesh and blood ; 
 Who as soon fell fast asleep 
 As her little eyes did peep. 
 
106 
 
 Give her strewings, but not stir 
 The earth that lightly covers her. 
 
 LAVENHAM. 
 Quod fuit esse quod est, quod non fuit esse quod esse. 
 Esse quod est non esse, quod est non erit esse. 
 
 Translation. 
 What John Giles has been, 
 Is what he is (a batchelor) ; 
 What he has not been, 
 Is what he is (a corpse) ; 
 To be what he is 
 Is not to be (a living creature), 
 He will not have to be 
 What he is not (dust). 
 
 BUEY. 
 Here lies Jane Kitchen, who, when her glass was spent, 
 Kickt up her heels and away she went. 
 
 £ttrwg. 
 
 BEEMONDSET. 
 On William Palin. 
 Silent grave, to thee I trust 
 This precious pearl of worthy dust. 
 
107 
 
 Keep it safe, sacred tomb ! 
 Until a wife shall ask for room. 
 
 WALWOKTH. 
 
 Here lies the wife of Eoger Martin, 
 
 She was a good wife to Eoger— that's sartin. 
 
 OCKHAM. 
 
 The Lord saw good, I was topping off wood, 
 
 And down fell from the tree ; 
 I met with a check, and I broke my blessed neck, 
 
 And so Death topped off me. 
 
 John Spong — (A Carpenter). 
 
 Who many a sturdy oak has laid along, 
 FtlVd by Death's surer hatchet, here lies Spong. 
 Posts oft he made yet ne'er a place could get, 
 And lived by railing, tho' he was no wit ; 
 Old saws he had altho' no antiquarian, 
 And styles corrected yet was no grammarian. 
 Long liv'd he Ockhams premier architect : 
 And lasting as his fame a tomb t'erect, 
 In vain we seek an artist such as he, 
 Whose pales and gules were for eternity. 
 So here he rests from all life's toils and follies, 
 O ! spare, kind heav'n, his fellow lab'rer Hollies. 
 
108 
 
 ST. MAEY AT LAMBETH CHUECH. 
 
 Eichard Marsh, 
 
 Aged 61—1704. 
 
 In the vault, under this stone, is the remains of 
 Eichard Marsh, Esq. ; who supped (before he went to 
 bed) with Christ. He had issue, 15 children by 
 Martha his Wife and Eelict ; eight are buried in the 
 middle He against the pulpit, one lyes in this vault 
 which he built for his Eamily. He was exceeding 
 glad at the beautifying of this House ; and tho' not 
 quite finished, was begun in his time : Being full of 
 Hope, he departed this life, the 18th of May, 1704, 
 Aged 61 years. 
 
 WIMBLEDON. 
 
 Sweet Saviour, Jesus, give me wings 
 Of Peace and perfect Love, 
 
 As I may move from Earthly Things, 
 To rest with thee above. 
 
 For sins and Sorrows overflow 
 All Earthly things so High, 
 
 That I can't find no rest below, 
 Till up to thee I fly. 
 
 THAMES DITTON. 
 In memory of Mr. W m - Machell, who departed this 
 life Oct. 10, 1808. Aged 82 years. 
 
 Whilst in this world I remained, my life was 
 A pleasure and health and gain. But now 
 
109 
 God thought best to take me to his everlasting rest, 
 And I thank God for it. 
 
 STKEATHAM. 
 
 On the South AYall of this Church is the following 
 remarkable Inscription : — Elizabeth, wife of Major- 
 Gen 1 Hamilton, who was married 47 years, and never 
 did oke thing to disoblige her Husband. 
 
 BATTEKSEA. 
 
 On Sir Edward Court. 
 Alone, unarm' d, a tiger he oppress'd, 
 And crush' d to death the monster of a beast : 
 Thrice twenty mounted Moors he overthrew 
 Singly on foot, some wounded, some he slew, 
 Disperst the rest ; what more could Sampson do ? 
 
 Xote. — This is only part of the inscription, which 
 relates that, being attacked in the woods by a tiger, 
 he placed himself on the side of a pond, and when the 
 tiger flew at him, he caught him in his arms, fell back 
 with him into the water, get upon him, and kept him 
 down until he had drowned him. 
 
 NEWINGTON. 
 
 On James Blackburn, a Blacksmith, 
 
 My sledge and hammer lie declin'd, 
 My bellows, too, have lost their wind ; 
 
110 
 
 My fire's extinct, my forge decay 'd, 
 And in the dust my vice is laid ; 
 My coal is spent, my iron gone, 
 My nails are driven, my work is done ; 
 My fire- dried corpse here lies at rest, 
 My soul, smoke-like, soars to be blest. 
 
 GUILDFOKD. 
 
 Eeader, pass on, ne'er waste your time 
 On bad biography and bitter rhyme ; 
 For what I am, this cumb'rous clay insures, 
 And what I was is no affair of yours. 
 
 BEDDINGTON. 
 
 On Thomas Greenhill. 
 
 Under thy feet interr'd is here 
 
 A native born in Oxfordshire ; 
 
 First life and learning Oxford gave, 
 
 Surry him his death and grave ; 
 
 He once a Hill was fresh and Greene, 
 
 Now withered is not to be seene ; 
 
 Earth in earth shovell'd up is shut, 
 
 A Hill into a Hole is put ; 
 
 But darksome earth by Power Divine, 
 
 Bright at last as the sun may shine. 
 
Ill 
 
 EICHMOND. 
 
 On Captain John Dunch, who died in 1697, aged 67. 
 
 Though Boreas' blasts and Neptune's waves 
 
 Have tossed me to and fro, 
 In spight of both, by God's decree, 
 
 I anchor here below, 
 Where I do now at anchor ride, 
 
 With many of our fleet, 
 Yet once again I must set sail, 
 
 Our admiral, Christ, to meet. 
 
 CAMBERWELL. 
 
 Eichard Wade, died Oct. 21, 1810, aged 53. 
 
 Giles Wade, died Dec. 8, 1810, aged 53. 
 Near together they came, 
 Near together they went, 
 Near together they are. 
 
 tosses 
 
 BAECOMB. 
 
 All you that come my grave to see 
 Prepare yourselves to Follow me, 
 Take care Young men, repent in time, 
 For I was taken in my Prime. 
 
112 
 
 As I was going through a Barn 
 I little thought of any harm, 
 A piece of Timber on me fell, 
 And penetrated through my Skull. 
 
 My Eyes were Blinded I could not see, 
 My Parents they did weep for Me, 
 My Time was come I was Forced to go, 
 And bid the "World and Them Adieu. 
 
 Just six and thirty hours I lay 
 In great Pain and Agony 
 Till the Archangel bid me come, 
 And called my Soul to its last Home. 
 
 
 CHICHESTER 
 
 A certain noble lord of no very moral life, dying, 
 had inscribed upon his tomb, the phrase, " Ultima 
 Domus,"— Collins, the poet, is said to have pencilled 
 these lines under the words : — 
 
 Did he who wrote upon this wall, 
 
 Believe or disbelieve St. Paul ? 
 Who says where-e'er it is or stands, 
 
 There is another house not made with hands, 
 Or do we gather from these words, 
 
 That house is not the house of lords ? 
 
 WILLINGDOK 
 
 In Philopaemen, Greece did teem her last j 
 In Cassius, Borne her vigour did exhaust ; 
 
113 
 
 Then blame not aged Britain's feeble womb, 
 
 For, in her Parker's birth, she did consume 
 
 Her utmost strength. The world will scarce be strong 
 
 For such another brave conception. 
 
 Here lies an old soldier whom all must applaud, 
 Who fought many battles at home and abroad ; 
 But the hottest engagement he ever was in, 
 "Was the conquest of self in the battle of sin. 
 
 BEXHILL. 
 On a Toung Lady. 
 
 I lay me down to rest me, 
 And pray to God to bless me, 
 And if I sleep and never wake, 
 I pray to God my soul to take, 
 This night for Evermore — Amen. 
 
 WEST GKINSTEAD. 
 
 Vast Strong was I, but yet did dye, 
 And in my Grave asleep I Lye, 
 My Grave is Steaned all round about, 
 But I hope the Lord will find me out. 
 
 MAYFIELD. 
 
 Oh reader ! if that though can'st read 
 Look down upon this stone ; 
 Do all we can, Death is a man, 
 What never spareth none. 
 
 i 
 
114 
 
 STOKKINGTOK 
 
 Here lies the body of Edward Hide 
 "We laid him here because he died. 
 "We had rather 
 It been his father, 
 If it had been his sister, 
 We should not have missed her, 
 But since 'tis honest Ned, 
 No more shall be said. 
 
 MIDHUEST. 
 
 On an Incorrigible Shrew, 
 Beneath this stone 
 Lies my wife, Joan, 
 To h — 1 she's gone, no doubt; 
 Tor if she be not, 
 If heaven's her lot, 
 I must (God wot) turn out. 
 
 Here lies my poor wife, without bed or blanket, 
 But dead as a door nail, God be thanked. 
 
 EAST GKINSTEAD. 
 
 I was as grass that did grow up, 
 And wither' d before it grew, 
 As Snails do waste within their Shells, 
 So the number of my days were few. 
 
115 
 
 BKIGHTON. 
 
 His fate was hard, but God's decree 
 Was, drown $ d he should lie— in the sea. 
 
 SKaptyMtw* 
 
 BIRMINGHAM. 
 
 By a Lady on her Husband. 
 
 Oh ! cruel death, how could you be so unkind, 
 To take him before, and leave me behind. 
 You should have taken both of us — if either, 
 Which would have been more pleasant to the survivor. 
 
 My time is out, my glass is run, 
 I never more shan't see the sun ; 
 To live for ever, no man don't, 
 The Lord does not think fitting on't. 
 
 COLESHILL. 
 
 On a man who had a remarkable wide mouth. 
 
 Here lies a man, as God shall me save, 
 Whose mouth was wide, as is his grave 3 
 Header, tread lightly o'er his sod, 
 For, if he gapes, you're gone, by G — d. 
 
116 
 
 STRATFORD ON AVON. 
 
 On Shakspeare' s Monument are engraved the fol- 
 lowing distich and lines : — 
 
 " Judicio Pylium, genio Socratem, arte Maronem, 
 Terra tegit, populus mceret Olympus habet." 
 
 Stay, passenger, why dost thou go so fast ? 
 Read, if thou canst, what envious death hath placed 
 Within this monument ; Shakspeare, with whom 
 Quick nature died ; whose name doth deck the tomb 
 Far more than cost, since all that he hath writ 
 Leaves living art but page unto his wit. 
 
 On a flat stone placed over the grave of Shakspeare, 
 in the Church of the Holy Trinity, the place of his 
 nativity : — 
 
 Grood Friend, For Jesvs Sake Forbeare 
 To Digg The Dust Enclosed Heare : 
 Blest Be Ye Man Tt. Spares Thes Stones, 
 And Curst Be He Tt. Moves My Bones. 
 
 UtitMir^ 
 
 SALISBURY. 
 
 Innocence embellishes, divinely compleat, 
 The pre-existing co-essence, now sublimely great. 
 He can surpassingly immortalize thy theme, 
 And perforate thy soul, celestial supreme. 
 When gracious refulgence bids the grave resign 
 The Creator's nursing protection be thine. 
 
117 
 
 So shall each perspiring aether joyfully arise, 
 Transcendently good, supereminently wise. 
 
 HINDOK 
 
 On Mary Sturgold, aged 61. 
 
 Death did to me short warning give, 
 
 Therefore be careful how you live ; 
 
 My weeping friends I left behind, 
 
 And had not time to speak my mind ! 
 
 In the morning I was well, 
 
 In the afternoon from a cart I fell, 
 
 An accident somewhat severe, 
 
 In less than a fortnight brought me here. 
 
 ANSTEY. 
 
 Mary Best lies buried hear, 
 Her age it was just ninety year ; 
 Twenty-eight she lived a single life, 
 And only four years was a wife ; 
 She liv'd a widow fifty-eight, 
 And died January 11, eighty-eight. 
 
 CALNE. 
 
 God worketh wonders now and then, 
 Here lies a miller, and an honest man. 
 
118 
 
 UPTON ON SEVERN. 
 
 Beneath this stone, in hopes of Zion, 
 Doth lie the landlord of the " Lion." 
 His son keeps on the business still, 
 Resigned unto the Heavenly will. 
 
 "WORCESTER. 
 
 On Mr. John Mole. 
 
 Beneath this cold stone lies a son of the earth ; 
 His story is short, though we date from his birth ; 
 His mind was as gross as his body was big ; 
 He drank like a fish, and he ate like a pig. 
 No cares of religion, of wedlock, or state, 
 Did e'er for a moment encumber John's pate. 
 He sat or he walked, but his walk was but creeping, 
 And he rose from his bed — when quite tir'd of sleeping. 
 "Without foe, without friend, unnotic'd he died ; 
 Not a single soul laughed, not a single soul cried. 
 Like his four-footed namesake, he dearly lov'd earth, 
 80 the sexton has covered his body with turf. 
 
 Mammy and I together lived 
 Just two years and a half; 
 
 She went first, I followed next, 
 The cow before the calf. 
 
119 
 
 BEOMESGEOVE. 
 
 In memory of Thomas Maningly. 
 Beneath this stone lies the remains, 
 Who in Bromsgrove-street was slain. 
 A currier with his knife did the deed, 
 And left me in the street to bleed ; 
 But when the archangel's trump shall sound, 
 And souls to bodies join, that murderer 
 I hope will see my soul in heaven shine. 
 
 GEEAT MALVEEK 
 
 Pain was my portion, physic was my food, 
 Grones my devotion— drugs done me no good. 
 Christ was my physician — he knowed what was best, 
 He took me to Himself, and put me here to rest. 
 
 BELBEOUGTON. 
 
 To the memory of Eichard Philpots. 
 To tell a merry or a wonderous tale 
 
 Over a chearful glass of nappy Ale, 
 In harmless mirth was his supreme delight, 
 
 To please his Guests or Eriends by Day or Night ; 
 But no fine tale, how well soever told, 
 
 Could make the tyrant Death his stroak withhold ; 
 That fatal Stroak has laid him here in Dust, 
 
 To rise again once more with Joy we trust. 
 
 On the upper portion of this Christian monument 
 are carved, in full relief a punch-bowl, a flagon, and 
 a bottle, emblems of deceased's faith, and of those 
 pots which Mr. Philpots delighted to fill. 
 
120 
 
 LEEDS. 
 
 Under this stone do lie six children small, 
 Of John Wittington of the North Hall. 
 
 On a Learned Alderman. 
 
 Here lies William Curtis, late our Lord Mayor, 
 Who has left this here world, and is gone to that there. 
 
 Here lies my wife, 
 Here lies she ; 
 
 Hallelujah, 
 Hallelujee. 
 
 Hie jacet sure the fattest man, 
 
 That Yorkshire stingo made ; 
 
 He was a lover — of his can, 
 
 A clothier by his trade. 
 
 His waist did measure three yards round, 
 
 He weighed about three hundred pounds ; 
 
 His flesh did weigh full twenty stone — 
 
 His flesh, I say, he had no bone, 
 
 At least 'tis said that he had none. 
 
121 
 
 HYDEK 
 
 Here lies the body of William Strutton, of Padrington, 
 buried 18th day of May, 1734, aged 97 years, who 
 had, by his first wife, 28 children ; by his second, 
 17 ; was own father to 45 ; grandfather to 86 ; 
 great grandfather to 23. — In all 154 children. 
 
 SELBT. 
 
 On Mr. Miles. 
 This tombstone is a Milestone ; hah ! how so ? 
 Because, beneath lies Miles, who's Miles below. 
 
 Here lies the body of poor Frank Bow, 
 Parish clerk, and grave- stone cutter ; 
 And this is writ to let you know, 
 What Frank for others us'd to do, 
 Is now for Fi-anh done by another. 
 
 BAEWICK-IN-ELMET. 
 
 On a Marine Officer. 
 Here lies, retired from busy scenes, 
 A first lieutenant of marines, 
 Who lately lived in gay content 
 On board the brave ship Diligent. 
 Now stripped of all his warlike show, 
 And laid in box of elm below. 
 Confined in earth in narrow borders, 
 He rises not till further orders. 
 
122 
 
 BIESTALL. 
 
 This is to the memory of old Amos, 
 
 Who was, when alive, for hunting famous, 
 
 But now his chases are all o'er, 
 
 And here he's earthed — of years fourscore. 
 
 Upon this stone he's often sat, 
 
 And tried to read his epitaph ; 
 
 And thou, who dost so at this moment, 
 
 Shalt, ere long, somewhere lie dormant. 
 
 EICHMOND. 
 
 Here lies the body of "William Wix, 
 
 One Thousand, Seven Hundred & Sixty Six. 
 
 ST. MAEY'S, TOEK. 
 Nigh to the Eiver Ouse, in York's fair city, 
 Unto this pretty maid, Death show'd no pity : 
 As soon as she'd her pail with water fill'd, 
 Came sudden Death — and life, like water, spilPd. 
 
 These lines are in the churchyard on a tombstone 
 sacred to the memory of a young maid, who was acci- 
 dentally drowned, Dec. 24, 1696. — The inscription is 
 said to be penned by her lover. 
 
 NOTHALLEETON. 
 
 Hie jacet Walter Gun, 
 
 Some time Landlord of the Sun 
 
123 
 
 Sic transit gloria mundi. 
 
 He drank hard upon Friday, 
 
 That being a high day, 
 Then took to his bed and died upon Sunday. 
 
 WADDINGTON. 
 
 On W m - K*- Phelp, a Boatswain of H.M.O. Invincible. 
 
 "When I was like you, 
 For years not a few, 
 On the ocean I toil'd, 
 On the line I have broil' d, 
 In Greenland I've shiver'd, 
 Now from hardships deliver' d ; 
 Capsized by old Death, 
 I surrendered my breath, 
 And now I lie snug, 
 As a bug in a rug. 
 
124 
 
 CAEMAETHEJST. 
 
 A hopeful youth, and well beloved, 
 Has to the earth his body bequeathed. 
 
 djjapapmsMtt^ 
 
 ABEBCONWAY. 
 Here lieth the body of Nicholas Hooker, of Conway, 
 
 Gent. 
 Who was the one and fortieth child of William Hooker, 
 
 Esq. by 
 Alice, his wife, and the father of twenty-seven children. 
 He died on the 20th day of March, 1637. 
 
 CAENAEVON. 
 
 Dust from dust at first was taken, — 
 Dust by dust is now forsaken ; 
 Dust in dust shall still remain, 
 Till dust from dust shall rise again. 
 
125 
 
 Denbighshire. 
 
 WREXHAM. 
 
 Here lies a Church-warden, 
 A choice flower in that garden, 
 Joseph Critchley by name, 
 Who lived in good fame ; 
 Being gone to rest, 
 "Without doubt he is blest. 
 
 Here lies John Shore, 
 I say no more ; 
 Who was alive 
 In sixty-five. 
 
 Pontcjamcrgshirf. 
 
 MONTGOMERY. 
 
 All you that come our grave to see 
 A moment pause and think, 
 How we are in eternity 
 And you are on the brink. 
 
126 
 
 BERRIEW. . 
 
 Farewell, my dear and loving wife, 
 Partner of the cares of life, 
 And you my children now adieu, 
 Since I no more can come to you. 
 
 GTJILDSFIELD. 
 
 Beneath this yew tree 
 Buried would he be, 
 Because his father, he, 
 Planted this yew tree. 
 
 LLANVAIK. 
 Who Ever hear on Sonday, 
 "Will practis playing at Ball, 
 It may Be be Fore Monday 
 The devil Will Have you All. 
 
 Stedttflqalthft. 
 
 KADNOK. 
 
 In Health and strength unthinking of my fate, 
 Death like a theif knock'd at my Bolted gate, 
 I hasted down to know the reason why 
 That noise was made, Death Quickly did Beply, 
 For thee I Call, thy Soul is now Bequir'd, 
 I trembling gaz'd and Instantly Expir'd. 
 
127 
 
 
 MUIEKIKK. 
 
 Inscription. 
 
 Here lies John Smith 
 
 who was shot by Col. 
 
 Buchan and the laird 
 
 of Lee. Feb. 1685. 
 
 For his adherence to the 
 
 word of God and Scot 
 
 land's covenanted w- 
 
 ork of reformation, 
 
 Eev. 12, ii. Erected in the 
 
 year 1731. 
 
 Epitaph. 
 
 When proud apostates 
 did abjure Scotland's 
 reformation pure And 
 filTd this land with perj 
 ury and all sorts of In- 
 iquity Such as would not 
 with them comply They pe 
 rsecute with hue and 
 
128 
 
 cry. I in the flight 
 was overtane And fo 
 r the truth by them 
 was slain. 
 
 (ttatiftiwssaluw 
 
 HALKIEK. 
 
 On Sir Jno. Graham. 
 
 Here lies Sir John the Grame both right and wise, 
 One of the chiefs rescued Scotland thrice, 
 An better knight ne're to the world was lent 
 Than was good Grame of truth and hardiment. 
 
 lumft[ii[ssfut[e* 
 
 HODDAM. 
 
 Here lyes a man, who all his mortal life 
 
 Past mending clocks but could not mend hys wyfe 
 
 The 'larum of his beU was ne'er sae shrill 
 
 As was her tongue, aye clacking like a mill. 
 
 But now he's gane — oh, whither ? nane can tell — 
 
 I hope beyond the sound o'Mally's bell. 
 
 Here lies John Speir 
 Dumfreise — Pipier. 
 Young John ?— Py Py. 
 Old John ?— Ay Ay. 
 
129 
 
 EDINBUKGH. 
 
 Here lie I, Martin Eldinbrode, 
 Ha' mercy on my soul, Lord Gode, 
 As I would do, were I Lord Gode, 
 And thou wert Martin Eldinbrode. 
 
 John McPherson 
 Was a wonderful person, 
 He was six feet two 
 Without his shoe, 
 And he was slew 
 At Waterloo. 
 
 Here lies Donald and his wife 
 Janet Mac Eee, 
 Aged forty hee, 
 Aged thirty shee. 
 
 Here lieth the limbs of a lang devil, 
 Wha ! in his time has done much evil, 
 And oft the ale wyves he opprest, 
 And blest be God he's gone to rest. 
 
 John Carnagie lies here, 
 Descended of Adam and Eve, 
 If any can gang higher 
 He willingly gives him leave, 
 
 K 
 
130 
 
 This epitaph is undoubtedly that from which Prior 
 borrowed those beautiful and well-known lines he once 
 intended for his owu monument. 
 
 (Jftjfcshirj;* 
 
 TOEEYBTTEN. 
 
 On a drunken Cobbler. 
 
 Enclosed within this narrow stall 
 Lies one who was a friend to awl. 
 He saved bad soles from getting worse, 
 
 But d d his own without remorse. 
 
 And tho' a drunken life he passed, 
 
 Tet saved his soul by mending at the last. 
 
 CUPAE. 
 
 To "William Eymour. 
 
 Through Christ, Fine not inferiour 
 
 To William the Conqueror.— Eom. 8, 37. (! !) 
 
 DUNDEE. 
 
 Walter Coupar, Tailor. 
 Kynd commorads ! here Coupar's corpse is laid, 
 Walter by name, and Tayleour to his trade, 
 
131 
 
 Both kind and true, and stout and honest-hearted, 
 Condole with me that he so soon departed. 
 For, Tavou, he never weyl'd and sheer 
 Had better parts, nor he that's bury'd here. 
 
 Three Scottish worthies were once appointed to 
 compose an Epitaph on a departed Provost. Subjoined 
 are the productions of two of them, which were sup- 
 posed to be the means of killing the third candidate 
 in a fit of laughter. 
 
 Here lies the Provost of Dundee, 
 Here lies him, here lies he. 
 Hi-diddle-dum, hi-diddle-dee, 
 A, B, C, D, E, F, G. 
 
 Here lies the body of John Watson, 
 Bead this not with your hats on. 
 For why — he was Provost of Dundee, 
 Hallelujah, Hallelujee. 
 
 MONTBOSE. 
 Here lyes the bodeys of George Young and Isabel 
 Guthrie, and all their posterity for fifty years back- 
 wards. November 1757. 
 
132 
 
 PKESTONPANS. 
 
 William Matthison here lies, 
 Whose age was forty- one, 
 February 17, he dies, 
 Went Isbel Mitchell from, 
 Who was his married wife 
 The fourth part of his life. 
 The soul it cannot die, 
 Though the body be turned to clay, 
 Tet meet again they must 
 At the last day. 
 
 Trumpet shall sound, archangels cry, 
 " Come forth Isbel Mitchell and meet Will 
 Matthison in the sky." 
 
 HADDINGTON. 
 
 If modesty commend a wife 
 
 And Providence a mother, 
 
 Grave chastity a widow's life, 
 
 We'll not find such another 
 
 In Haddington as Mareon Gray, 
 
 Who here doth lie till the Domesday. 
 
 Hout, Atropos, hard-hearted hag, 
 To cut the sheugh o' Jamie Craig ! 
 
133 
 
 Eor had he lived a wheen mae years 
 He'd been o'er teugh for thy auld shears. 
 But now he's gane, sae maun we a', 
 Wha wres'les Death's aye shure to fa' ; 
 Sae let us pray that we at last 
 May wun frae Death a canny cast. 
 
 ABEELADY. 
 
 Here lies John Smith, 
 
 Whom Death slew, for all his pith 
 The starkest man in Aberlady, 
 God prepare and make us ready. 
 
 SanaitMhp* 
 
 GLASGOW. 
 
 Our life's a flying shadow, God's the pole, 
 The index pointing at him is our soul ; 
 Death's the horizon, when our sun is set, 
 Which will through Christ a resurrection get. 
 
 Here lies Mass Andrew Gray, 
 Of whom ne muckle good can I say : 
 He was ne Quaker, for he had ne spirit, 
 He was ne Papist, for he had ne merit. 
 
134 
 
 He was ne Turk, for lie drank muckle wine, 
 He was ne Jew, for he eat muckle swine. 
 Pull forty years he preach' d and le'ed, 
 For which God doom'd him when he de'ed. 
 
 HAMILTON. 
 
 Covenanter's Remains. 
 
 At Hamilton He the heads of John Parker, Gavin 
 Hamilton, James Hamilton, and Christopher Strang, 
 who suffered at Edinburgh, 7th December 1666. 
 [Here four heads are sculptured on the stone.] 
 
 Stay, passenger, take notice 
 
 What thou reads : 
 
 At Edinburgh lies our bodies — 
 
 Here our heads. 
 
 Our right hands stood at Lanark — 
 
 These we want, 
 
 Because with them we sware 
 
 The Covenant. 
 
 jflrtMity 
 
 DUNKELD. 
 
 On Margery Scott. 
 
 Stop, passenger, until my life you read, 
 The living may get knowledge from the dead 
 Five times five years I lived a virgin life, 
 Five times five years I was a virtuous wife, 
 
135 
 
 Five times five years a widow, grave and chaste, 
 Tired of the elements, I am now at rest ; 
 Betwixt my cradle and my grave were seen 
 Eight mighty kings of Scotland and a Queen ; 
 Thrice did I see old Prelacy pulled down, 
 And thrice the cloak did sink beneath the gown. 
 
 STERLING. 
 
 John Anderson's here kept within, 
 Death's prisoner for Adam's sin, 
 But rests in hope that he shall be 
 Let, by the second Adam, free. 
 
 WIGTON. 
 
 Here lies John Taggart, of honest fame, 
 Of stature low, and a leg lame ; 
 Content he was with portion small, 
 Kept a shop in "Wigton, and that's all. 
 
136 
 
 Here lies poor Thomas, and his Wife, 
 Who led a pretty jarring life ; 
 But all is ended — do you see ? 
 He holds his tongue, and so does she. 
 
 On a Woman who had three Husbands. 
 
 Here lies the body of Mary Sextone, 
 
 Who pleased three men, and never vexed one, 
 
 I cant say as much for her at the next stone. 
 
 Marianne S- 
 
 Conjuge (i ?) nunquam satis plorandae 
 Inane hoc, tamen ultimum, 
 Amoris consecrat testimonium, 
 Maritus, heu ! superstes. 
 
 The above Epitaph, inscribed on a plain marble 
 tablet in a village church near Bath, is one of the 
 few in which the Latin language has been employed 
 with thebrief and profound pathos of ancient sepulchral 
 inscriptions. 
 
 Here lies my wife in earthly mould, 
 Who when she lived did naught but scold. 
 Peace ! wake her not for now she's still, 
 She had, but now I have my will. 
 

 137 
 
 Epitaph written by Sarah Dobson, the wife of John 
 Dobson, to be put on her tombstone after her 
 decease : — 
 I now have fallen asleep — my troubles gone, 
 For while on earth, I had full many a one, 
 When I get up again — as Parson says, 
 I hope that I may see some better days. 
 If Husband he should make a second suit 
 His second wife will find that he's a brute. 
 He often made my poor sad heart to sigh, 
 And often made me weep from one poor eye, 
 The other he knocked out by a violent blow, 
 As all my Kinsfolk and my Neighbours know. 
 I hope he will not serve his next rib so, 
 But if he should, we'll put the two together, 
 And through them stare while Satan tans his leather. 
 
 Dear Husband, now my life is past, 
 And I am stuck in Earth so fast, 
 I pray no sorrow for me take, 
 But love my Children, for my sake. 
 
 By Boileau, the Poet. 
 Here lies my wife, and Heaven knows, 
 Not less for mine, than her repose ! 
 
 On a Wife (by her Husband.) 
 Beneath this stone lies Katherine, my wife, 
 In death my comfort, and my plague through life. 
 Oh ! liberty ! — but soft, I must not boast ; 
 She'll haunt me else, by jingo, with her ghost ! 
 
138 
 
 Here I, Thomas Wharton, do He, 
 "With Lucifer under my head, 
 
 And Nelly my wife hard bye, 
 And Nancy as cold as lead. 
 
 O, how can I speak without dread 
 Who could my sad fortune abide ? 
 
 With one devil under my head, 
 And another laid close on each side. 
 
 Here lies my poor wife, 
 Without bed or blanket, 
 But dead as door nail, 
 God be thanked. 
 
 Epitaph on a violent Scold. 
 My spouse and I full many a year 
 Liv'd man and wife together, 
 I could no longer keep her here, 
 She's gone — the Lord knows whither. 
 
 Of tongue she was exceeding free, 
 I purpose not to flatter, 
 Of all the wives I e'er did see, 
 None sure like her could chatter. 
 
 Her body is disposed of well, 
 A comely grave doth hide her, 
 I'm sure her soul is not in hell, 
 For old Nick could ne'er abide her. 
 
 Which makes me guess she's gone aloft, 
 For in the last great thunder, 
 Methought I heard her well known voice 
 Eending the skies asunder. 
 
139 
 
 On a Scolding "Wife who died in her sleep. 
 
 Here lies the quintessence of noise and strife, 
 Or, in one word, here lies a scolding wife ; 
 Had not Death took her when her mouth was shut, 
 He durst not for his ears have touched the slut. 
 
 Here lies my wife, a sad slattern and shrew, 
 If I said I regretted her — I should lie too. 
 
 On a Scold. 
 
 Here lies, thank God, a woman who 
 QuarrelTd and stormed her whole life through, 
 Tread gently o'er her mould'ring form, 
 Or else you'll raise another storm. 
 
 On a "Wife (by her Husband.) 
 
 Here lies my poor wife, much lamented, 
 She's happy, and I'm contented. 
 
 On Dr. Sheridan. 
 
 Beneath this marble stone there lies 
 Poor Tom, more merry much than wise ; 
 "Who only liv'd for two great ends, — 
 To spend his cash, and lose his friends ; 
 His darling wife, of him bereft, 
 Is only grieved— there's nothing left ! 
 
140 
 
 My wife is dead, and here she lies, 
 No man laughs and no man cries, 
 Where she's gone, or how she fares, 
 Nobody knows and nobody cares. 
 
 By a Man on his Wife. 
 
 Two of my bones have taken a trip,- 
 My rib is departed, so is my HIP. 
 
 One was our thought, One life we fought, 
 
 One rest we both intended, 
 Our bodies have to sleepe one grave, 
 
 Our soules to God ascended. 
 
 Here rests my spouse, no pair through life, 
 
 So equal liv'd as we did ; 
 Alike we shared perpetual strife, 
 
 Nor knew I rest till she did. 
 
 On Thomas Knowles and his Wife. 
 
 Thomas Knowles lies under this stone, 
 And his wife Isabell : flesh and bone 
 They were together nineteen year, 
 And ten children they had in fear. 
 His fader & he to this church 
 Many good deeds they did worch. 
 Example by him may ye see, 
 That this world is but vanity ; 
 
141 
 
 For whether he be small or great, 
 All shall turn to worms' meat ; 
 This said Thomas was lay'd on beere, 
 The eighth day the month Fevree, 
 The date of Jesu Christ truly, 
 Anno M.C.C.C. five & forty. 
 "We may not pray ; heartily pray he, 
 For our souls, Pater Noster and Ave. 
 The swarer of our pains lissed to be, 
 Grant us thy holy trinity. Amen. 
 
 On a Man and his "Wife. 
 
 Stay, bachelor, if you have wit, 
 A wonder to behold : 
 Husband and wife, in one dark pit, 
 Lie still and never scold. 
 
 Tread softly tho' for fear she wakes ; — 
 Hark, she begins already : 
 You've hurt my head ; — my shoulder akes ; 
 These sots can ne'er move steady. 
 
 Ah friend, with happy freedom blest ! 
 See how my hope's miscarry'd : 
 Not death can give me rest, 
 Unless you die unmarry'd. 
 
 On a Wife, 
 
 By a disconsolate Widower, in a Church-yard, in 
 Sussex. 
 
 Here lies the body of Sarah, wife of John , 
 
 who died 24th March, 1823, aged forty-two years : 
 
142 
 
 " The Lord giveth, and the Lord taketh aw at ; 
 hlessed be the name of the Lord" 
 
 SUpfa and $\\opmoml <%ttejjhs. 
 
 On Shadrach Johnson, 
 
 Who kept the Wheatsheaf, at Bedford, and had 
 twenty-four children by his first wife, and eight by 
 his second. 
 Shadrach lies here, who made both sexes happy, 
 The women with love toys, and the men with nappy. 
 
 On a Cricketer. 
 
 I bowled, I struck, I caught, I stopt, 
 Sure life's a game of cricket ; 
 
 I block' d with care, with caution popp'd, 
 Tet Death has hit my wicket. 
 
 On a Puritanical Locksmith. 
 
 A zealous locksmith died of late, 
 And did arrive at heaven gate ; 
 He stood without and would not knock, 
 Because he meant to pick the lock. 
 
 On Mr. Death, the Actor. 
 
 Death levels all, both high and low, 
 "Without regard to stations ; 
 
143 
 
 Tet why complain, 
 If we are slain ? 
 For here lies one, at least, to show, 
 He kills his own relations. 
 
 On Mr. Strange, a Lawyer. 
 
 Here lies an honest lawyer, 
 And that is Strange. 
 
 Dr. I. Letsome wrote the following epitaph for his 
 own tombstone ; but it is not likely that he allowed 
 his friends, or at least his patients, to read it until he 
 was under the turf, or out of practice. 
 When people's ill, they comes to I, 
 
 I physics, bleeds, and sweats 'em ; 
 Sometimes they live, sometimes they die ; 
 "What's that to I? I. Letsome. (lets 'em.) 
 
 On a Baker. 
 
 Richard Puller lies buried here, 
 Do not withhold the crystal tear, 
 Eor when he liv'd he daily fed 
 Woman and man and child with bread. 
 But now alas he's turned to dust, 
 As thou and I and all soon must, 
 And lies beneath this turf so green, 
 Where worms do daily feed on him. 
 
144 
 
 On a Publican. 
 
 Thomas Thompson's buried here, 
 And what is more he's in his bier, 
 In life thy bier did thee surround, 
 And now with thee is in the ground. 
 
 On a Porter, who died suddenly under a load. 
 
 Pack'd up within these dark abodes, 
 Lies one in life inur'd to loads, 
 "Which oft he carried 'tis well known, 
 Till Death pass'd by and threw him down. 
 
 When he that carried loads before, 
 Became a load which others bore 
 To this his inn, where, as they say, 
 They leave him till another day. 
 
 On a Publican. 
 
 A jolly landlord once was I, 
 And kept the Old King's Head hard by, 
 Sold mead and gin, cider and beer, 
 And eke all other kinds of cheer, 
 Till Death my license took away 
 And put me in this house of clay, 
 A house at which you all must call, 
 Sooner or later, great and small. 
 
 On a Parish Clerk. 
 
 Here lies, within his tomb so calm, 
 Old Giles, pray sound his knell, 
 
145 
 
 "Who thought no song was like a psalm, 
 No music like a bell. 
 
 On Mr. Nightingale, Architect. 
 
 As the birds were the first of the architect kind, 
 And are still better builders than men, 
 
 What wonders may spring from a Nightingale's mind. 
 When St. Paul's was produced by a Wren. 
 
 On James Straw, an Attorney. 
 
 Hie jacet Jacobus Straw, 
 
 Who forty years, Sir, followed the law, 
 
 And when he died, 
 
 The Devil cried, 
 " Jemmy, gie's your paw." 
 
 On a Stay Maker. 
 
 Alive, unnumber'd stays he made, 
 
 (He w r ork'd industrious night and day;) 
 
 E'en dead he still pursues his trade, 
 Por here Iris bones will make a stay. 
 
 On a Card-maker. 
 
 His card is cut ; long days he shuffled through 
 The game of Life ; he dealt as others do. 
 Though he by honours tells not its amount, 
 When the last trump is play'd, his tricks will count. 
 
 L 
 
146 
 
 On a Potter. 
 
 That thou wouldst pity take, I humbly pray, 
 O Lord, on this, my wretched lump of clay- 
 A broken pitcher does not cleave in twain, 
 But let me rise, and be myself again. 
 
 On a Chemist. 
 
 Here lyeth to digest, macerate, and amalgamate 
 
 With Clay, 
 
 In Balneo Arenae 
 
 Stratum super Stratum, 
 
 The Eesiduum, Terra damnata, and Caput 
 
 Mortuum 
 
 Of Boyle Godfry, Chemist 
 
 And M.D. 
 
 A man, who in this earthly Laboratory 
 
 Pursued various Processes to obtain 
 
 Arcanum Vitae, 
 
 Or the secret to live ; 
 
 Also Aurum Vitae, 
 
 Or, the art of getting, rather than making Gold. 
 
 Alchemist like, 
 
 All his labour and Projection, 
 
 As Mercury in the Pire evaporated in Puomo 
 
 When he dissolv'd to his first Principles, 
 
 He departed as poor 
 
 As the last Drops of an Alembic ; 
 
 Por riches are not poured 
 
 On the Adepts of this world. 
 
 Though fond of News, he carefully avoided 
 
 The Fermentation, Effervescence, 
 
147 
 
 And Decrepitation of this Life. 
 Full Seventy years his exalted Essence 
 Was Hermetically sealed in its Terene Mattras, 
 But the radical Moisture being exhausted, 
 The Elixir Vitse spent, 
 And exsiccated to a Cuticle, 
 He could not suspend longer in his Vehicle, 
 But precipitated Gradatim 
 Per Campanam, 
 To his Original Dust. 
 May that light, brighter than Bolognian 
 Phosphorus, Preserve him from the 
 Athanor, Empyremna, & 
 Of the other 
 World. 
 Depurate him from the Taces & Scoria of 
 this ; 
 Highly Kectify'd & Volatize 
 His iEthereal Spirit, 
 Bring it over the Helm of the Ketort of this 
 Globe, place it in a proper Becipient, 
 Or Crystalline Orb, 
 Among the elect of the Flowers of Benjamin, 
 Never to be Saturated, 
 Till the General Eesuscitation, 
 
 Deflagration, Calcination, 
 And Sublimation of all Things. 
 
 On John For dace, a Fishmonger. 
 
 Near to this Place, lies Jack Fordace, 
 
 He Carpd and Smelt, bought, sold, and felt, 
 
148 
 
 And ShelVd, till he was shell'd again. 
 A Chub in person, varied hues a Trout, 
 Foul as a Tench, and sullen as a Pout ; 
 In mind a Gudgeon, but, in shop, a Shark, 
 Jack made trade answer to life's latest spark. 
 Now — Sound he sleeps in hope ; and may no surgeon, 
 With Pike in search of knowledge, Dare to Stir-John 
 (Sturgeon.) 
 
 On Joseph Crump, a Musician. 
 
 Once ruddy and plump, 
 But now a pale lump, 
 Beneath this safe lump, 
 Lies honest Joe Crump, 
 
 Who wish'd to his neighbours no evil, 
 Who, tho' by Death's thump 
 He's laid on his rump, 
 Yet up he shall jump 
 When he hears the last trump, 
 
 And triumph o'er Death and the Devil 
 
 An Attorney. 
 
 Here lieth one who often lied before, 
 But now he lies here he lies no more. 
 
 Epitaph on a Bell Binger. 
 
 Stephen &Hime now are even, 
 
 Stephen beat time, now time's beat Stephen, 
 
149 
 
 On a Printer. 
 
 The Body 
 
 of 
 
 Benjamin Peanelin, Printer, 
 
 (like the cover of an old book, 
 
 its contents torn out, 
 
 and stripped of its lettering and gilding), 
 
 lies here, food for worms : 
 
 yet the work itself shall not be lost ; 
 
 for it will, as he believed, appear once more 
 
 in a new and more beautiful edition, 
 
 corrected and amended 
 
 by 
 
 The Author ! 
 
 On a Magistrate who had formerly been a Barber. 
 
 Here lies Justice ; — be this his truest praise : 
 
 He wore the wig which once he made, 
 And learnt to shave both ways. 
 
 To the Memory of Nell Batchelour, 
 The Oxford Pye-woman. 
 
 Here, into the dust, 
 
 The mouldering crust 
 Of Eleanor Batchelour' s shoven ; 
 
 Well versed in the arts 
 
 Of pyes, custards, and tarts, 
 And the lucrative skill of the oven. 
 
 c/ 
 
150 
 
 When she'd lived long enough 
 
 She made her last puff — 
 A puff by her husband much praised ; 
 
 Now here she does lie, 
 
 And makes a dirt-pye, 
 In hopes that her crust may be raised. 
 
 On a Sailor, 
 
 Written by his Messmate. 
 
 Here is honest Jack — to the lobsters a prey, 
 Who lived like a sailor free hearty and gay, 
 His rigging well fitted, his sides close and tight, 
 His bread room well furnished, his mainmast upright : 
 When Death, like a pirate built solely for plunder, 
 Thus hail'd Jack in a voice loud as thunder, 
 "Drop your peak, my old boy, and your topsails throw 
 
 back! 
 For already too long you've remain'd on that tack." 
 Jack heard the dread call, and without more ado, 
 His sails flatten'd in and his bark she broach'd to. 
 
 Laconic Epitaph. 
 Snug. 
 
 On a Seaman. 
 
 My watch perform' d, lo here at rest I lay, 
 Not to turn out till resurrection day. 
 
151 
 
 Laconic Epitaph on a Sailor. 
 
 I caught a fever — weather plaguey hot, 
 
 Was boarded by a Leech — and now am gone to pot. 
 
 On an honest Sailor. 
 
 Whether sailor or not, for a moment avast ; 
 Poor Tom's mizen topsail is laid to the mast ; 
 He'll never turn out, or more heave the lead ; 
 He's now all aback, nor will sails shoot ahead ; 
 He ever was brisk, &, though now gone to wreck, 
 When he hears the last whistle he'll jump upon 
 deck. 
 
 On a Dustman. 
 
 Beneath yon humble clod, at rest 
 Lies Andrew, who, if not the best, 
 
 Was not the very worst man ; 
 A little rakish, apt to roam ; 
 But not so now, he's quite at home, 
 
 For Andrew was a Dustman. 
 
 Mr. Langford, Auctioneer. 
 
 So, so, Master Langford, the hammer of Death 
 Hath knock'd out your brains, and deprived you of 
 
 breath ; 
 'Tis but tit for tat, he who puts up the town, 
 Bv Devil or Death must at last be knock'd down. 
 
152 
 
 I 
 On a Potter. 
 
 How frail is man — how short life's longest day ! 
 Here lies the worthy Potter, turned to clay ! 
 Whose forming hand, and whose reforming care, 
 Has left us full of flaws. Vile earthenware ! 
 
 On Mr. Havard, Comedian. 
 
 " An honest man's the noblest work of God." 
 
 Havard from sorrow rest beneath this stone ; 
 
 An honest man — beloved as soon as known ; 
 
 However defective in the mimic art, 
 
 In real life he justly played his part ! 
 
 The noblest character he acted well, 
 
 And heaven applauded when the curtain fell. 
 
 On Eobin Masters, Undertaker. 
 
 Here lieth Eobin Masters — faith 'twas hard 
 To take away our honest Eobin' s breath ; 
 
 Yet surely Eobin was full well prepared, 
 Eobin was always looking out for death. 
 
 On an Undertaker. 
 
 Subdu'd by death, here death's great herald lies, 
 And adds a trophy to his victories ; 
 Yet sure he was prepared, who, while he'd breath, 
 Made it his business to look for death. 
 
153 
 
 On a Cobbler. 
 
 Death at a cobbler's door oft made a stand 
 And always found bim on the mending hand ; 
 At last came Death, in very dirty weather, 
 And ripp'd the sole from off the upper leather. 
 Death put a trick upon him, and what was't ? 
 The cobbler called for 's awl, Death brought his last. 
 
 On a Grunpowder-Maker. 
 
 Tread soft, good friends, lest you should spring a mine. 
 
 I was a workman in the powder line. 
 
 Of true religion I possess' d no spark, 
 
 Till Christ, he pleas' d to stop my gropings dark. 
 
 The rev' rend vicar seconded the plan, 
 
 [A temperate, holy, charitable man, 
 
 Who left the foxes to enjoy their holes, 
 
 And never hunted aught but human souls.] 
 
 To this Director's care 'twas kindJy given 
 
 To point my spirit, bolt upright, to Heaven. 
 
 On an Organ-Blower, named Knust. 
 
 Here lies George Knust, 
 At last in the dust, 
 
 Out of spirits, and low ; 
 "Who, for God's church, did puff 
 All his life, long enough, 
 
 And its organ did blow, — 
 'Till the puffer, grim Death, 
 Blew him out of breath. 
 
154 
 
 The following was written by Capt, Morris on 
 Edward Heardson, thirty years Cook to the Beef 
 Steak Society: — 
 
 His last steak done ; his fire rak'd out and dead, 
 
 Dished for the worms himself, lies honest Ned: 
 
 We, then, whose breasts bore all his fleshly toils, 
 
 Took all his castings, and shared all his broils ; 
 
 Now, in our turn, a mouthful carve and trim, 
 
 And dress at Phoebus' fire, one scrap for him : — 
 
 His heart which well might grace the noblest grave, 
 
 "Was grateful, patient, modest, just and brave ; 
 
 And ne'er did earth's wide maw a morsel gain 
 
 Of kindlier juices or more tender grain : 
 
 His tongue, where duteous friendship humbly dwelt, 
 
 Charmed all who heard the faithful zeal he felt ; 
 
 Still to whatever end his chops he mov'd, 
 
 'Twas all well seasoned, relished, and approv'd : 
 
 This room his heaven ! — When threatening Pate drew 
 
 nigh 
 The closing shade that dimm'd his ling'ring eye, 
 His last fond hopes, betray'd by many a tear, 
 Were — That his life's last spark might glimmer here ; 
 And the last words that choak'd his parting sigh — 
 " Oh ! at your feet, dear masters, let me die !" 
 
 On a Juggler. 
 
 Death came to see thy tricks, and cut in twain 
 Thy thread. Why did'st not make it whole again ? 
 
155 
 
 A Baker, of the name of Death, having lately died, 
 a Wag offered the following as an appropriate Epi- 
 taph ; — 
 
 Here lies Death, who liv'd by Bread ; 
 We all shall live, now Death is dead. 
 
 On a Sexton. 
 
 Here lyeth the body of honest John Clapper, 
 Who lived by the bell, and died by the clapper. 
 
 Answer to : — 
 
 I am not dead indeed, but have good hope 
 To live by the bell when you died by the rope. 
 
 Sfttsttltatwous. 
 
 A servant maid was sent by her mistress to Ben 
 Jonson, for an epitaph on her departed husband. 
 She could only afford to pay half-a-guinea, which Ben 
 refused, saying he never wrote for less than double 
 that sum ; but recollecting he was going to dine that 
 day at a tavern, he ran down stairs and called her 
 back. " What was your m aster s name ?" — " Jonathan 
 Fiddle, sir." "When did he die ?"— " June the 
 22nd, sir." Ben took a small piece of paper, and 
 wrote with his pencil, while standing on the stairs, 
 the following :— 
 
 On the twenty-second of June, 
 Jonathan Fiddle went out of tune. 
 
156 
 
 At Saragossa, in Spain. 
 
 " Here lies Juan Cabecca, Chorister of our Lord 
 the King. When he was received into the choir of 
 angels, in augmentation of that happy company, his 
 voice was so distinguished from the rest, that even 
 God himself hearkened to him with attention, and 
 said, rather severely, to the angels, ' Hold your 
 tongues, ye calves, and let Juan Cabecca, Chorister 
 to the King of Spain, sing my praise.' " 
 
 On Drs. Walker and Fuller. 
 
 Dr. Walker, among other things, wrote a work on 
 the English particles, and this caused him to get the 
 very short and pithy epitaph — 
 
 Here lie Walker's Particles. 
 
 The brevity of which reminds us of that upon the 
 famous Dr. Fuller- 
 Here lies Fuller's Earth. 
 
 On an Infant. 
 
 Since I was so early done for, 
 I wonder what I was begun for. 
 
 On a Young Lady. 
 Had cruel death, whose harvest is each hour, 
 But stopt awhile to view this lovely flow' r, 
 In pity he had turn'd his scythe away, 
 And left her standing till another day j 
 
157 
 
 But ruthless he mow'd on, and, she, alas ! 
 Too soon fell withering with the common grass. 
 
 E^i. Collins. 
 
 On John Cole, 
 Who died suddenly, while at dinner. 
 
 Here lies Johnny Cole, 
 Who died, on my soul, 
 
 After eating a plentiful dinner. 
 While chewing his crust, 
 He was turned into dust, 
 
 With his crimes undigested — poor sinner ! 
 
 In the Subterranean Chapel, of the Church of St. 
 Maria Scala Coeli, Rome. 
 
 Hie requiescunt corpora Santi Zenobis tribuni et 
 sociorum ejus militum decies mille ducentorum trium. 
 
 That is: — 
 
 Here rest the bodies of St. Zeno, and his twelve 
 thousand two hundred soldiers. 
 
 These are the twelve thousand two hundred Chris- 
 tians (precisely) who remained alive out of the forty 
 thousand, that had been employed for the space of 
 seven years in building Diocletian's baths, and who, 
 after the finishing of this immense work, received no 
 other recompense for their toil and labour than a 
 cruel death, which they suffered by the tyrant's order^ 
 and on the same spot where the church now stands. 
 
158 
 
 On a Maid of Honour. 
 
 Here lies (the Lord have mercy on her !) 
 One oi her majesty's maids of honour: 
 She was young, slender and pretty ; 
 She died a maid — the more the pity. 
 
 Les Saints Innocents, Paris. 
 
 Cy gist Tolande Bailly, 
 qui trepassa Tan 1514. le 88 e an de 
 
 son age, le 42, de son veuvage, 
 laquelle a vis, ou pu voir devant 
 son trepas deux cents quatre-vingts- 
 -quinza enfans issus d'elle. 
 
 In English : — 
 
 Here lies Toland Bailly, 
 
 Who died in the year 1515, aged 88, 
 
 And in the 42d year of her widowhood : 
 
 Who saw, or might have seen, before her death, 
 
 Two hundred and ninety-five 
 
 Of her own offspring. 
 
 On Mr. Foot. 
 
 Here lies one Foot, whose death may thousands save ; 
 For Death himself has now one Foot i' th' grave. 
 
 On a Gentleman who expended his fortune in 
 Horse-racing. 
 John ran so long, and ran so fast, 
 Xo wonder he ran out at last ; 
 
159 
 
 He ran in debt, and then to pay, 
 He distanced all — and ran away, 
 
 On a Miser. 
 They call'd thee rich, I deem'd thee poor, 
 Since, if thou dar'dst not use thy store, 
 But sav'd it only for thy heirs, 
 The treasure was not thine — but theirs. 
 
 Liues written by Eobert of Gloucester upon our King 
 Henry the First, who died through over-eating of 
 his favourite fish : — 
 And when he com horn he willede of an lampreye to 
 
 ete, 
 Ac hys leeches hym oerbede, vor yt was feble mete, 
 Ac he wolde it noyt beleve, vor he lovede yt well ynow, 
 And ete as in better cas, vor thulke lampreye hym 
 
 slow, 
 Vor anon rygt thereafter into anguysse he drow, 
 And died vor thys lampreye, thane hys owe wow. 
 
 On John Sydney, 
 
 Who died full of the Small Pox. 
 
 In this sacred urn there lies, 
 Till the last trump make it rise, 
 A light that's wanting in the skies. 
 A corpse inveloped with stars, 
 "Who, though a stranger to the wars, 
 Was mark'd with many hundred scars. 
 
160 
 
 Death, at once, spent all his store 
 Of darts, which this fair body bore, 
 Though fewer had kill'd many more. 
 For him our own salt tears we quaiF, 
 Whose virtues should preserve him safe, 
 Beyond the power of epitaph. 
 
 On Ryenvet, an unpopular Dutch Judge, at the Cape 
 of Good Hope. 
 
 Here lies in death, who living always lied, 
 
 A base amalgam of deceit and pride ; 
 
 A wily African of monstrous shape, 
 
 The mighty Quinbus Plestrin of the Cape. 
 
 Rogue paramount, ten thousand rogues among, 
 
 He rose and shone like phosphorus from dung ; 
 
 The wolf and fox their attributes combined, 
 
 To form the odious features of his mind : 
 
 "Where kennelled deep, by shame, by fear, unawed, 
 
 Lurk'd rapine, villainy, deceit, and fraud ; 
 
 Hypocrisy, servility, and lust, 
 
 A petty tyrant, and a Judge unjust ; 
 
 Partial and stern, in every cause he tried, 
 
 He judged like Pilate, and like Pilate died. 
 
 Urged to despair, by crimes precluding hope, 
 
 He chose a bullet, to avoid a rope. 
 
 Consistent knave ! his life in cheating past, 
 
 He shot himself, to cheat the law at last. 
 
 Acme of crimes : self-murder crowned the whole, 
 
 And gave to worms his corpse— to fiends his soul. 
 
161 
 
 "Upon Two Eeligious Disputants, 
 
 "Who are interred within a few paces of each other. 
 
 Suspended here a contest see, 
 
 Of two whose creeds could ne'er agree ; 
 
 For whether they would preach or pray, 
 
 They'd do it in a different way; 
 
 And they wou'd fain our fate deny'd, 
 
 In quite a different manner dy'd ! 
 
 Yet, think not that their rancour's o'er ; 
 
 Ko, for 'tis 10 to 1, and more, 
 
 Tho' quiet now as either lies, 
 
 But they've a wrangle when they rise. 
 
 On a Disorderly Fellow, named Chest. 
 
 Here lies one Chest within another ; 
 
 That chest was good 
 
 Which was made of wood, 
 But who'll say so of t'other? 
 
 On John Death. 
 
 Here lies John Death the very same 
 That went away with a cousin of his name. 
 
 On John Dent, Esq., and his Lady. 
 
 In this cold bed, here consummated are 
 The second nuptials of a happy pair, 
 
 M 
 
162 
 
 Whom envious death once parted, — but in vain, 
 For now himself hath made them one again, 
 Here wedded in the grave, and 'tis but just, 
 That they, that were one flesh, should be one dust !' 
 
 Lord Coningsby. By Pope. 
 
 Here lies Lord Coningsby — be civil ! 
 The rest God knows — perhaps the Devil. 
 
 On General Tulley. 
 
 Here lies General Tulley, 
 
 Aged 105 years fully ; 
 
 Nine of his wives beside him doth lie, 
 
 And the tenth must lie here when she doth die. 
 
 A Bishop's Epitaph. 
 
 In this house, which I have borrowed from my 
 brethren worms, lie I, Samuel, by divine permission 
 la?te Bishop of this Island, in hope of the resurrection 
 to Eternal life. Eeader, stop ! view the Lord Bishop's 
 palace, and smile. 
 
 On a Welchman, 
 
 Killed by a Eall from his Horse. 
 
 Here lies interr'd, beneath these stones, 
 David ap-Morgan, ap-Shenkin, ap-Jones ; 
 
163 
 
 Hur was bom in Wales, hur was travell'd in France, 
 And hur went to heaven — by a bad mischance. 
 
 Card Table Epitaph on a Lady, whose Euin and Death 
 were caused by gaming. 
 
 Clarissa reign'd the Queen of Hearts, 
 Like sparkling Diamonds were her ey. 
 
 But through the Knave of Club's false arts. 
 Here bedded by a Spade she lies. 
 
 On Sir Philip Sidney. 
 
 England hath his body, for she it fed, 
 Xetlierland Ms blood, in her defence shed ; 
 The Heavens hath his soul, 
 
 The Arts have his fame, 
 The Soldier his grief, 
 
 The World his good name. 
 
 Header, in that peace of earth, 
 In peace rest Thomas Arrowsmith : 
 In peace he lived, in peace went hence, 
 "With God & man & conscience : 
 Peace for other men he sought, 
 And peace with pieces sometimes bought, 
 Pacifici, may others bee, 
 But ex pace factro hee. 
 
164 
 
 Ann Mitchell. 
 
 Loe here I lye till Trumpets sound, 
 And Christ for me shall call ; 
 
 And then I hope to rise again, 
 And dye no more at all. 
 
 O Merciful Jesu that Brought 
 Mans Soule from Hell ; 
 
 Have mercy of the Soule 
 Of Jane Bell. 
 
 On a very idle Fellow. 
 
 Here lieth one that once was born & cried, 
 Liv'd several years, & then — & then— he died. 
 
 On a Great Consumer of Bread, Cheese, and Tobacco. 
 
 Here Graffer B . . . Jaws are laid at Ease, 
 Whose Death has dropped the price of Bread and 
 
 Cheese. 
 He Eat, he drank, he smoked, and then 
 He Eat, and drank, and smoked again. 
 So Modern Patriots, rightly understood, 
 Live to themselves, and die for Public Good. 
 
 Thin in bread, and thick in purse, 
 Never man beloved worse ; 
 He went to the grave with many a curse : 
 The devil and he had both one nurse. 
 
165 
 
 They were so one, that none could say 
 Which of them ruled, or whether did obey, 
 He ruled, because she would obey ; and she, 
 In so obeying, ruled as well as he. 
 
 Good People draw near, 
 
 There is no need of a tear, 
 
 Merry L ... is gone to his Bed ; 
 
 I am placed here to tell, 
 
 Where now lies the shell, 
 
 If he had any soul it is fled. 
 
 Make the Bells ring aloud, 
 And be joyful the crowd, 
 
 For Mirth was his favourite theme, 
 Which to Praise he turned Poet, 
 Its fit you should know it, 
 
 Since he has left nothing more than his name. 
 
 On an Ass (by the late Dr. Jenner). 
 Beneath this huge hillock here lies a poor creature, 
 So gentle, so easy, so harmless his nature ; 
 On earth by kind Heav'n he surely was sent, 
 To teach erring mortals the road to content ; 
 Whatever befel him, he bore his hard fate, 
 Nor envied the steed in his high pamper'd state ; 
 Though homely his fare was, he'd never repine ; 
 On a dock could he breakfast, on thistles could dine ; 
 No matter how coarse or unsavoury his salad, 
 Content made the flavour suit well with his palate. 
 Now, Eeader, depart, and, as onward you pass, 
 Reflect on the lesson you've heard from an Ass. 
 
166 
 
 On a Henpecked Country Squire. 
 
 As father Adam first was fool'd, 
 A case that's still too common, 
 
 Here lies a man a woman rul'd, 
 The devil rul'd the woman. 
 
 It was his usual custom in company when he told 
 anything, to ask, d'ye hear ? and if any one said no, 
 John would reply, No matter, I've said. 
 
 Death came to John 
 And whisper' d in his ear, 
 Tou must die John, 
 
 D'ye hear ? 
 
 Quoth John to Death 
 The news is bad. 
 No matter, said Death, 
 I've said. 
 
 Punning Epitaph. 
 
 Cecil Clay, the chancellor of Chesterfield, caused 
 this whimsical allusion or pun upon his name to be 
 put upon his grave-stone : — Two cyphers of C.C. and 
 underneath, Sum quod fui, " I am what I was." 
 
 Oldys thus translates from Camden an epitaph upon 
 a tippling red-nosed ballad maker of the time of Shak- 
 speare : — 
 
167 
 
 Dead drunk, here Elderton doth lie ; 
 Dead as he is, he still is dry : 
 So of him it may well be said, 
 Here he, but not his thirst, is laid. 
 
 Here lies John Adams, who received a thump 
 Eight in the forehead from the parish pump, 
 Which gave him his quietus in the end, 
 Tho' many doctors did his case attend. 
 
 On Mr. Cumming. 
 
 " Give me the best of men," said Death 
 To Nature — " quick, no humming," 
 She sought the man who lies beneath, 
 And answered, " Death, he's Cumming." 
 
 Ieish Epitaph. 
 
 In Belturbet Church- Yard, Ireland, is the following : 
 
 Here lies John Higley, whose Father and Mother 
 were drowned in their passage from America. Had 
 they both lived, they would have been buried here. 
 
 An Original. 
 
 Here lies fast asleep, awake me who can, 
 
 That medley of passion and follies, a Man, 
 
 Who sometimes lov'd licence and sometimes restraint, 
 
 Too much of the sinner, too little of saint ; 
 
168 
 
 Prom quarter to quarter I shifted my tack ; 
 
 Gainst the evils of life a most notable quack ; 
 
 But alas ! I soon found the defects of my skill, 
 
 And my nostrums in practice prov'd treacherous still ; 
 
 From life's certain ills 'twas in vain to seek ease, 
 
 The remedy oft proved another disease ; 
 
 What in rapture began often ended in sorrow, 
 
 And the pleasure to-day brought reflection to-morrow ; 
 
 "When each action was o'er and its errors were seen, 
 
 Then I viewed with surprise the strange thing I had 
 
 been ; 
 My body and mind were so oddly contrived, 
 That at each other's failing both parties conniv'd, 
 Imprudence of mind brought on sickness and pain, 
 The body diseas'd paid the debt back again. 
 Thus coupled together life's journey they pass'd, 
 Till they wrangled and jangled and parted at last ; 
 Thus tired and weary, I've finished my course, 
 And glad it is bed time, and things are no worse. 
 
 On Peter Wilson, who was drowned, 
 
 Peter was in the ocean drown'd, 
 A careless, hapless creature ! 
 
 And when his lifeless trunk was found, 
 It was become Salt Peter. 
 
 On William Jackett, 
 
 Late of the Parish of St. Mary, Islington, Middlesex, 
 deceased, proved July 17, 1789. 
 
169 
 
 I give and bequeath, 
 "When I'm laid underneath, 
 
 To my two loving sisters most dear, 
 The whole of my store, 
 "Were it twice as much more, 
 
 Which God's goodness has granted me here ; 
 And that none may prevent, 
 This my will and intent, 
 
 Or occasion the least of law racket ; 
 With a solemn appeal, 
 I confirm, sign, and seal, 
 
 This the true act and deed of Will Jackett. 
 
 On a Perfect Liar of the Name of Tell. 
 
 He lies all the day like a knave ; 
 
 He lies all his night-hours away ; 
 And when he is dead he will lie in the grave, 
 
 And Tell lies till the Judgment-day. 
 
 There is a touching sorrow conveyed in the following 
 most ungrammatical verses; evidently composed by 
 one of the unlettered parents themselves : 
 
 Beneath this stone his own dear child, 
 
 Whose gone from we 
 
 For ever more unto eternity ; 
 
 Where we do hope that we shall go to he, 
 
 But him can never more come back to we. 
 
170 
 
 In Belftys Church. 
 
 How vain a thing is Man, 
 
 When God thinks meet, 
 Oft times with Swadling Clothes, 
 
 To join the Winding Sheet ; 
 A Webb of forty Weeks, 
 
 Spun forth in pain 
 To his dear Parents grief 
 
 Soon ravelled out again. 
 This Babe intombed 
 
 On the World did peepe 
 Dislik'd it, clos'd his Eyes, 
 
 Tell fast asleep. 
 
 On Bobert Sleath, 
 
 Who kept the turnpike at Worcester, and was noted 
 for having once demanded toll of George III., when 
 his Majesty was going on a visit to Bishop Hurd. 
 
 On Wednesday last, old Bobert Sleath 
 Passed through the turnpike gate of death. 
 To him would death no toll abate, 
 Who stopped the King at Wor'ster gate. 
 
 On Ned Purdon, (by Goldsmith.) 
 
 Here lies poor Ned Purdon, from misery free, 
 Who long was a bookseller's hack. 
 
 He led such a damnable life in this world 
 I don't think he'll ever come back. 
 
 Edward Purdon, educated at Trinity College, 
 
171 
 
 Dublin, but having wasted his patrimony he enlisted 
 as a foot soldier. Growing tired of that employ- 
 ment he became a scribbler in the newspapers. He 
 translated Voltaire's " Henriade." 
 
 On Stephen Eemnant. 
 Here's a Eemnant of life, and a Eemnant of death, 
 Taken off both at once in a Eemnant of breath. 
 To mortality this gives a happy release, 
 For what was the Eemnant, proves now the whole 
 piece. 
 
 A form of enigmatical epitaph is in Llandham 
 Churchyard, Anglesea, and has been frequently 
 printed. From the Cambrian Eegister, 1795 (Vol. I. 
 p. 441), I learn that it was translated by Jo. Pules- 
 ton, Feb. 5, 1666. The subject of it was Eva, 
 daughter of Meredidd ap Eees ap Howel, of Bodowyr, 
 and written by Arthur Kynaston, of Pont y Byrsley, 
 son of Francis Kynaston. 
 
 Here lyes, by name, the world's mother, 
 
 By nature, my aunt, sister to my mother ; 
 
 My grandmother, mother to my mother ; 
 
 My great grandmother, mother to my grandmother ; 
 
 My grandfather's daughter and his mother : 
 
 All which may rightly be, 
 
 Without the breach of consanguinity. 
 
 On Eobert Pemberton. 
 Here lies Rolin, but not Bolin Hood; 
 Here lies Rolin that never did good ; 
 
172 
 
 Here lies Robin by heaven forsak'n ; 
 Here lies Robin — the devil may tak'n. 
 
 Brevity of life. 
 
 Man's life's a vapour, 
 And full of woes ; 
 
 He cuts a caper, 
 And down he goes. 
 
 If drugs and physic could but save 
 
 Us mortals from the dreary grave, 
 
 'Tis known that I took full enough 
 
 Of the apothecaries' stuff 
 
 To have prolonged life's busy feast 
 
 To a full century at least ; 
 
 But spite of all the doctors' skill, 
 
 Of daily draught and nightly pill, 
 
 Eeader, as sure as you're alive, 
 
 I was sent here at twenty-five. 
 
 Poor Jerry's Epitaph. 
 
 Here lies poor Jerry, 
 Who always seem'd merry, 
 
 But happiness needed. 
 He tried all he could 
 To be something good, 
 
 But never succeeded. 
 He married two wives : 
 
173 
 
 The first good, but somewhat quaint ; 
 The second very good— like a saint. 
 
 In peace they may rest. 
 And when they come to heaven, 
 May they all be forgiven 
 
 For marrying such a pest. 
 
 On a Drunkard. 
 
 The draught is drunk, poor Tip is dead. 
 He's top'd his last and reeled to bed, 
 
 On a Rum and Milk Drinker. 
 
 Bum and milk I had in store, 
 
 Till my poor belly could hold no more ; 
 
 It caused me to be so fat, 
 
 My death was owing unto that. 
 
 On Mr. John Sullen. 
 
 Here lies John Sullen, and it is God's will, 
 He that was Sullen shall be Sullen still, 
 He still is Sullen ; if the truth ye seek, 
 Knock until doomsday, Sullen will not speak. 
 
 Here lies the body of an honest man, 
 And when he died he owed nobody nothing. 
 
174 
 
 On Mr. Churchill. 
 Says Tom to Richard, " Churchill's dead." 
 
 Says Richard, " Tom, you lie : 
 Old Rancour the report has spread, 
 
 But Genius cannot die." 
 
 On Foote, the Mimic and Dramatist, 
 Who, several years before his death, lost one of his 
 
 nether limbs. 
 Here a pickled rogue lies whom we could not preserve, 
 
 Though his pickle was true Attic salt ; 
 One Foote was his name, and one leg did him serve, 
 
 Though his wit was known never to halt. 
 A most precious limb and a rare precious pate, 
 
 "With one limb taken off for wise ends ; 
 Yet the hobbler, in spite of the hitch in his gait, 
 
 Never failed to take off his best friends : 
 Taking off friends and foes, both in manner and voice, 
 
 Was his practice for pastime or pelf; 
 For which 'twere no wonder, if both should rejoice 
 
 At the day when he took off himself. 
 
 On Mr. Partridge, who died in May. 
 
 What ! kill a partridge in the month of May ! 
 Was that done like a sportsman ? Eh, Death, Eh ? 
 
 On Du Bois, 
 Born in a Baggage Waggon, and killed in a Duel. 
 
 Begot in a cart, in a cart first drew breath, 
 
 Carte and tierce were his life, and a carte was his death. 
 
175 
 
 On Sir Isaac Newton. 1 
 
 Nature and Nature's laws lay hid in night, 
 God said, * Let Newton be!" and all was light. 
 
 Here lies 
 
 Elizabeth Wyse. 
 
 She died of Thnnder sent from Heaven 
 
 In 1777. 
 
 On a Family cut off by the Small Pox. 
 
 At once depriv'd of life, lies here, 
 A family to virtue dear. 
 Though far remov'd from regal state, 
 Their virtues made them truly great, 
 Lest one should feel the other's fall, 
 Death has, in kindness, seiz'd them all. 
 
 George Hardinge much indulged himself in versi- 
 fying, and a curious instance in illustration occurred 
 at Presteign, in the spring of 1816, a few hours 
 before his decease. An application was made by 
 Messrs. Tippens, addresssd to the judge " if living, 
 or his executors," for the payment of a bill. The 
 answer was penned by the judge only three hours 
 prior to his death, and was as follows : — 
 
 " Dear Messrs. Tippens, what is feared by you, 
 Alas ! the melancholy circumstance is true, 
 That I am dead ; and, more afflicting still, 
 My legal assets cannot pay your bill. 
 
176 
 
 To think of this, I am almost broken hearted, 
 Insolvent I, this earthly life departed ; 
 Dear Messrs. T., I am yours without a farthing 
 For executors and self, 
 
 George Hardinge." 
 
 The manner of her death was thus, 
 She was druv over by a Bus. 
 
 Here lies Martha wife of Hugh, 
 
 Born at S 4 - Austel's, buried at Kew, 
 
 Children in wedlock they had five, 
 
 Three are dead & two are alive, 
 
 Those who are living had much rather 
 
 Die with the mother than live with the Father. 
 
 To the memory of Mary Clow, &c. 
 
 A vertuous wife, a loving mother, 
 And one esteemed by all that knew her. 
 
 And to be short, to her praise, she was the woman 
 that Solomon speaks of in the xxxi. chapter of the 
 book of Proverbs, from the 10th verse to the end. 
 
 Old Epitaph. 
 
 As I was so are ye, 
 As I am Tou shall be, 
 That I had that I gave, 
 That I gave that I have, 
 
177 
 
 Thus I end all my cost, 
 That I left that I lost. 
 
 Singular Epitaph. 
 
 Careless and thoughtless all my life, 
 Stranger to every source of strife, 
 And deeming each grave sage a fool, 
 The law of nature was my rule. 
 By which I learnt to duly measure 
 My portion of desire and pleasure. 
 'Tis strange that here I lie you see, 
 For death must have indulged a whim, 
 At any time t'have thought of me, 
 Who never once did think of him. 
 
 On Earle the boxer. 
 
 Here lies James Earle the Pugilist, who on the 11th 
 of April 1788 gave in. 
 
 She lived genteely on a small income. 
 
 Epitaph on a Gamester. 
 
 Here lies a gamester, poor but willing, 
 "Who left the room without a shilling, 
 Losing each stake, till he had thrown 
 His last, and lost the game to Death ; 
 If Paradise his soul has won, 
 'Twas a rare stroke of luck i'faith ! 
 
178 
 
 In the Villa of the Noble M. A. Volta, at Bononia. 
 
 iEuA L^lia Ceispis, neither man, nor woman, nor 
 hermaphrodite ; nor girl, nor boy, nor old woman ; 
 
 nor chaste, nor a w , nor modest ; but all. Taken 
 
 off neither by famine, nor by sword, nor by plague, nor 
 by poison ; but by all. Lying neither in heaven, nor 
 earth, nor waters ; but everywhere. Lucius Agatho 
 Peiscius, neither friend, nor mourning, nor rejoicing, 
 nor weeping, knows, and is ignorant to whom he has 
 placed this — neither mound, nor pyramid, nor sepul- 
 chre ; but every one of them. 
 
 Some have interpreted this Rain-water, others the 
 Prima Materia, Niobe, the Soul, Mercury, &c. &c. &c. - 7 
 but Grasperius Gredartius makes it out to be Love. 
 
 On Miss Eliza More, aged 14 years. 
 
 Here lies who never lied before, 
 And one who never will lie More, 
 To which there need be no more said, 
 Than More the pity she is dead, 
 Por when alive she charmed us More 
 Than all the Mores just gone before. 
 
 On Jemmy Jewell. 
 
 'Tis odd, quite odd, that I should laugh, 
 When Fm to write an epitaph. 
 Here lies the bones of a rakish Timmy, 
 Who was a Jewell & a Jemmy. 
 
179 
 
 He dealt in diamonds, garnets, rings, 
 And twice ten thousand pretty things ; 
 Now he supplies Old Nick with fuel, 
 And there's an end of Jemmy Jewell, 
 
 Within this place a vertvous virgin lies, 
 Much like those virgins that were counted wise, 
 Her lamp of life by Death being now r pvt ovt, 
 Her lamp of grace doth still shine rovnd abovt 
 And thovgh her body here doth sleep in clay, 
 Yet is her sovl still watchfvl for that day, 
 When Christ the Bridegroom of her sovl shall come, 
 To take her with him to the wedding roome. 
 
 Amy Mitchell. 
 
 1724, aged 19. 
 
 Here lies a virgin cropt in youth, 
 A Xtian both in name and truth, 
 Forbear to mourn, she is not dead, 
 But gone to marry Christ her head. 
 
 On an Infant. 
 
 Short was her life, 
 Longer will be her rest ; 
 Christ call'd her home, 
 Because he thought it best. 
 
ISO 
 
 For she was born to die, 
 To lay her body down, 
 And young she did fly, 
 Into the world unknown. 
 5 years & 9 months. 
 
 On one stone, exhibiting a copy of that veet rare 
 inscription beginning with, "Afflictions sore," the 
 second line affords the following choice specimen of 
 orthography : — " Physicians were in vain." 
 Think nothing strange, 
 
 Chance happens unto, all ; 
 My lot's to-day, 
 
 To-morrow yours may fall. 
 Great afflictions I have had, 
 
 Which wore my strength away ; 
 Then I was willing to submit 
 Unto this bed of clay. 
 
 On Burbadge, the Tragedian. 
 Exit Burbadge. 
 
 On Mr. Suett. 
 
 Here lies to mix with kindred earth, 
 A child of Wit, of Glee, and Mirth ; 
 Hush'd are those powers which gave delight ; 
 And made us laugh in reason's spite : 
 Thy " gibes and jests shall now no more 
 Set all the rabble in a roar." 
 
1S1 
 
 Sons of Mirth and Humour come, 
 And drop a tear on Suett's Tomb ; 
 Xor ye alone, but all who view it, 
 Weep and Exclaim, Alas ! Poor Suett. 
 
 On the Tomb of a Murdered Man. 
 
 O holy Jove ! my murderers, may they die 
 A death like mine — my buriers live in joy ! 
 
 Moliere's Epitaph. 
 
 Koscius hie situs est tristi Molierus in urna, 
 Cui genus humanum ludere, ludus erat. 
 
 Dum ludit mortem, Mors indignata jocantem 
 Corripit, et nimium fingere saeva negat. 
 Moliere, on whom these lines were made, was taken 
 ill while he was playing the part of a dead man on the 
 stage, in one of his own comedies ; was carried home, 
 and died in a few hours. He was born, according to 
 Bayle, about the year 1620. He went through his 
 school learning under the Jesuits in Clermont College, 
 and was destined for the bar ; but, after he had made 
 an end of his study of the civil law, he pitched upon the 
 profession of a comedian, wherein he succeeded, and 
 wrote several exquisite plays. He died on the 17th 
 February, 1673. The inscription in English is thus : — 
 
 "Within this melancholy tomb confin'd, 
 Here lies the matchless ape of human kind ; 
 "Who, while he labour' d with ambitious strife 
 To mimic death as he had mimic' d life. 
 
182 
 
 So well, or rather ill, perform' d his part, 
 That Death, delighted with his wondrous art, 
 Snatch' d up the copy, to the grief of France, 
 And made it an original at once. 
 
 On a man named Stone. 
 
 Jerusalem's curse was not fulfilled in me, 
 For here a stone upon a Stone you see. 
 
 On Thomas Day. 
 
 Here lies Thomas Day, 
 
 Lately removed from over the way. 
 
 Epitaph by Burns. 
 (On a man choked by a piece of bread !) 
 
 Here I lie, killed by a crumb, 
 
 That wouldn't go down, nor wouldn't up come. 
 
 Here lie the remains of Thomas Woodhen, 
 The most amiable of Husbands, and the most excellent 
 of men. 
 " N.B. The name is Woodcock, but it would'not 
 come in rhyme I *' 
 
183 
 
 On a Volunteer, 
 
 Here lies the gallant Capt n King, 
 He's finished Life's review ; 
 
 No more he'll stand on either wing, 
 Por now he flies on two. 
 
 He was a gallant Volunteer, 
 But now his Bifle's rusty ; 
 
 No more at drill will he appear, 
 His uniform is dusty. 
 
 No more he'll hear the Bugle's sound 
 Till Bugler Angels blow it, 
 
 Nor briskly march along the ground, 
 His body lies below it. 
 
 Let's hope when at the great parade 
 
 We all meet in a cluster, 
 With many another martial blade 
 
 He'll readily pass muster. 
 
 Seraphic sabre in his fist, 
 On heavenly drill reflective, 
 
 May he be placed upon the list, 
 Eternally effective. 
 
 Here lies the body of John Cole, 
 
 His master loved him like his soul ; 
 
 He could rake hay — none could rake faster, 
 
 Except that raking dog, his master. 
 
184 
 
 On Hatt. 
 
 By Death's impartial scythe was mown 
 Poor Hatt — he lies beneath this stone ; 
 On him misfortune oft did frown, 
 Tet Hatt ne'er wanted for a crown ; 
 When many years of constant wear 
 Had made his beaver somewhat bare, 
 Death saw, and pitying his mishap, 
 Has given him here a good long nap. 
 
 On a Man who was killed by a blow from a Sky Rocket, 
 Here I lie, 
 Bailed by a Sky 
 Rocket in my eye. 
 
 On a Post Boy, who was killed by the overturning of a 
 Chaise. 
 Here I lays, 
 Killed by a Chaise. 
 
 Here lies I no wonder I'se dead, 
 
 For a broad wheeled Waggon went over my head. 
 
 On a Miser. 
 Here lies one for medicine would not give 
 
 A little gold, and so his life he lost ; 
 I fancy now he'd wish to live again, 
 
 Could he but know how much his funeral cost. 
 
185 
 
 On a Miser. 
 
 Iron was his chest, 
 Iron was his door, 
 
 His hand was iron, 
 
 And his heart was more, 
 
 On a Miser. 
 
 Here lies old father G-KIPE, who never cried a Jam 
 
 satis ;" 
 'Twould wake him did he know, you read his tombstone 
 
 gratis. 
 
 On John Treffey, Esq. 
 
 Here in this Chancell do I lye, 
 Known by the name of John Treffiy. 
 Being born & made for to die ; 
 So must thou, friend, as well as I. 
 Therefore good works be sure to try, 
 But chiefly love & Charity ; 
 And still on them with faith rely, 
 To be happy eternally. 
 
 xhis was put up during his life, who was a whimsical 
 man. He had his grave dug, & lay down and swore 
 in it, to show the sexton a novelty, i.e., a man swearing 
 in his grave. 
 
186 
 
 On an Old Covetous Usurer. 
 
 You'd have me say, here lies T. U, 
 
 But I do not believe it ; 
 For after Death there's something due, 
 
 And he's gone to receive it. 
 
 Epitaph on the grave of a Smuggler killed in a fight 
 with Eevenue Officers. 
 
 Here I lies 
 Killed by the XII. 
 
 On a Miser. 
 
 Here lies one who lived unloved, and died unla- 
 mented ; who denied plenty to himself, and assistance 
 to his friends, and relief to the poor ; who starved his 
 family, oppressed his neighbours, and plagued himself 
 to gain what he could not enjoy ; at last Death, more 
 merciful to him than he was to himself, released him 
 from care, and his family from want ; and here he lies 
 with the grovelling worm, and with the dirt he loved, 
 in fear of a resurrection, lest his heirs should have 
 spent the money he left behind, having laid up no 
 treasure where moth and rust do not corrupt, nor 
 thieves break through and steal. 
 
 On John D'Amory, the Usurer. 
 
 Eeneath this verdant hillock lies 
 Demar the wealthy and the wise. 
 
187 
 
 His Heirs, that he might safely rest, 
 Have put his carcase in a Chest. 
 The very Chest, in which, they say 
 His other Self, his Money, lay. 
 And if his Heirs continue kind 
 To that dear Self he left behind, 
 I dare believe that Four in Five 
 Will think his better self alive. 
 
 Ann Short. 
 Ann Short, O Lord, of praising thee, 
 
 Nothing I can do is right ; 
 Needy and naked, poor I be, 
 
 Short, Lord, I am of sight ; 
 How short I am of love and grace ! 
 
 Of everything I'm short, 
 Eenew me, then I'll follow peace 
 
 Through good and bad report. 
 
 On William Clay. 
 A long affliction did my life attend, 
 But time with patience brought it to an end, 
 And now my body rests with Mother clay, 
 Until the joyful resurrection day. 
 
 Written on Montmaur, 
 A man of excellent memory, but deficient in judgment. 
 In this black surtout reposes sweetly, Montmaur 
 of happy memory, awaiting his judgment. 
 
188 
 
 On an Invalid. 
 
 Written by Himself. 
 
 Here lies a head that often ached ; 
 Here lie two hands that always shak'd; 
 Here lies a brain of odd conceit ; 
 Here lies a heart that often beat ; 
 Here lie two eyes that dimly wept, 
 And in the night but seldom slept ; 
 Here lies a tongue that whining talk'd ; 
 Here lie two feet that feebly walked ; 
 Here lie the midriff and the breast, 
 "With loads of indigestion prest ; 
 Here lies the liver full of bile, 
 That ne'er secreted proper chyle ; 
 Here lie the bowels, human tripes, 
 Tortured with wind and twisting gripes ; 
 Here lies the livid dab, the spleen, 
 The source of life's sad tragic scene, 
 That left side weight that clogs the blood, 
 And stagnates Nature's circling flood ; 
 Here lies the back, oft racked with pains, 
 Corroding kidneys, loins, and reins ; 
 Here lies the skin by scurvy fed, 
 With pimples and irruptions red ; 
 Here lies the man from top to toe, 
 That fabric fram'd for pain and woe. 
 
 On Sir John Vanbrugh. 
 
 Lie heavy on him, earth ! for he 
 Laid many heavy loads on thee. 
 
189 
 
 The following Epitaph was written by Shakspeare 
 on Mr. Combe, an old gentleman noted for his wealth 
 and usury : — 
 
 Ten in tlie hundred lies here ingraved : 
 'Tis a hundred to ten his soul is not saved: 
 If any man ask, Who lies in this tomb ? 
 
 Oil! oh! QUOTH THE DEYIL, 'TIS MT JoHtf-A'COMBE. 
 
 On Marshal Saxe. 
 
 N.B. The figures are to be pronounced in French 
 
 as un, deux, trois, etc. 
 
 Ses vertus le feront admire de chac 1 
 
 . 2 
 
 . 3 
 
 . 4 
 
 . 5 
 
 II avait des Bivaux, mais il triompha . . . 
 
 Les Batailles qu'il gagna sont au nombre de 
 
 Pour Louis son grand cceur se serait mis en 
 
 En amour, c'etait peu pour lui d'aller a . . 
 
 Nous l'aurions s'il n'eut fait que le berger Tir' . 6 
 
 Pour avoir trop souvent passe douze " Hie-ja" . 7 
 
 11 a cesse de vivre en Decembre 8 
 
 Strasbourg contient son corps dans un Tombeau tout 9 
 Pour tant de " Te Deum" pas un " De profun" . 10 
 
 He died at the age of 55 
 
 a. Tircis, the name of a celebrated Arcadian shepherd. 
 
 j8. A great personage of the day remarked that it 
 was a pity after the Marshal had by his victories been 
 the cause of so many "Te Deums," that it would not 
 be allowed (the Marshal dying in the Lutheran faith) 
 to chant one u de profundis" over his remains. 
 
190 
 On Thomas Jones. 
 
 Here for the nonce, 
 
 Came Thomas Jo?ies, 
 
 In St. Giles's Church to lye ; 
 
 Non "Welch before, 
 
 None Welchman more, 
 
 Till Show Clerk dy. 
 
 He tole his bell, 
 
 He ring his knell, 
 
 He dyed well. 
 
 He's sav'd from hell, 
 
 And so farewell. 
 
 Tom Jones. 
 
 The tomb of Keats the Poet. 
 
 This grave contains 
 
 all 
 
 that was mortal 
 
 of a 
 
 young English poet, 
 
 who 
 
 on his death bed, 
 
 in the bitterness of his heart 
 
 at the malicious power of his enemies, 
 
 desired these 
 
 words to be engraved on his tombstone : 
 
 " Here lies one 
 
 whose name was writ in water." 
 
 February 24, 1821. 
 
191 
 
 On Mr. Quiii. 
 
 Says Epicure Quin, Should the devil in hell, 
 In fishing for men take delight, 
 His hook bait with ven'son, I love it so well, 
 Indeed I am sure I should bite. 
 
 Here lies Sir John Plumpudding of the Grange, 
 "Who hanged himself one morning for a change. 
 
 On John Bell. 
 
 I Jocky Bell o' Braikenbrow, lyes under this stane, 
 
 Five of my awn sons laid it on my wame ; 
 
 I hVd aw my dayes, but sturt or strife, 
 
 Was man o' my meat, and master o' my wife. 
 
 If you done better in your time, than I did in mine, 
 
 Take this stane aff my wame, and lay it on o' thine. 
 
 On "William Jones, a Bone Collector. 
 
 Here lie the bones of "William Jones, 
 "Who when alive collected bones, 
 But Death, that grisly bony spectre, 
 That most amazing bone collector, 
 Has boned poor Jones so snug and tidy, 
 That here he lies in bona fide. 
 
 Sacrum 
 
 In memoriam viri doctissimi et clerici, Joannis Samp- 
 son, olim hujusce sacelli ministri, itemque ludi 
 
192 
 
 literarii apud congaluin triginta septem fere annos 
 magistri seduli; hoc marmor ponendum quidam 
 discipuli prsDceptorem merentes curaverunt. 
 
 Ob: An: abatis suae LXX VII; A.D. MDCCCXLIIL 
 
 Foris juxta januam e dextra introeunti sepultum est 
 corpus. 
 
 Problemata plurima geometrica proposuit ac solvit ; 
 ad hsec accedunt versus baud pauci, latine et manu 
 sua scripti ; quorum exemplum infra insculptum 
 est ; adeo ut Cbristiano turn mentem, turn viri 
 fidem cognoscere liceat. 
 
 avrog e(/>rj. 
 
 Quandocunque sophos clarus eua dogmata profert, 
 Nil valet clvtoq tyri ni documenta daret ; 
 
 At mibi cum Cbristus loquitur, verum, via vita, 
 Turn vero fateor sufficit avrog £07/." 
 
 Epitaph on the Mareschal Comte de Eanzan, a 
 Swede, who accompanied Oxenstiern to Paris, and 
 was taken into the French service by Louis XIII. 
 He died of hydrophobia in 1650. He had been in 
 innumerable battles, had lost an eye and two limbs, 
 and his body was found to be entirely covered w T ith 
 scars. 
 
 Stop passenger ! this stone below 
 Lies half the body of Eanzan : 
 The other moiety's scattered far 
 And wide o'er many a field of war ; 
 
193 
 
 For to no land the hero came, 
 On which he shed not blood and fame. 
 Mangled or maim'd each meaner part, 
 One thing remain' d entire — his heart. 
 
 At Arlington, near Paris. 
 Here lie 
 
 Two grandmothers, with their two granddaughters, 
 
 Two husbands with their two wives, 
 
 Two fathers with their two daughters, 
 
 Two mothers with their two sons, 
 
 Two maidens with their two mothers, 
 
 Two sisters with their two brothers, 
 
 Yet but six corps in all be buried here, 
 
 All born legitimate, & from incest clear. 
 The above may be thus explained : — 
 
 Two widows, that were sisters-in-law, had each a 
 son, who married each other's mother, and by them 
 had each a daughter. Suppose one widow's name- 
 Mary, and her son's name John, and the other widow's 
 name Sarah, and her son's James ; this answers the 
 fourth line. Then suppose John married Sarah, and 
 had a daughter by her, and James married Mary, and 
 had a daughter also, these marriages answer the first, 
 second, third, fifth, and sixth lines of the epitaph. 
 
 Sudden and unexpected was the end 
 Of our esteemed and beloved friend. 
 He gave to all his friends a sudden shock 
 By one day falling into Sunderland Dock. 
 
 o 
 
194 
 
 At Sakiwedel. 
 
 Traveller, hurry not, as if you were going post- 
 haste ; in the most rapid journey you must stop at the 
 post house. Here repose the bones of MATTHIAS 
 SCHTJLZEN, the most humble and most faithful 
 Postmaster, for upwards of Twenty-five years, of His 
 Majesty, Frederick, King of Prussia. He arrived 
 1655 ; and afterwards travelled with distinction in 
 life's pilgrimage, by walking courses in the Schools 
 and Universities. He carefully performed his duties 
 as a Christian, and when the post of misfortune came, 
 he behaved according to the letter of divine consola- 
 tion. His body, however, ultimately being enfeebled, 
 he was prepared to attend the signal given by the 
 post of death ; when his soul set off on her pleasing 
 journey for Paradise, the 2nd of June, 1711 ; and his 
 body afterwards was committed to this silent tomb. 
 Beader, in thy pilgrimage through life, be, mindful of 
 the prophetic post of Death ! 
 
 At Eadstock, Germany. 
 
 O quid tua te 
 
 be ! bis ? bia abit 
 
 ra ra ra 
 
 es 
 
 et in 
 
 ram ram ram 
 
 i i 
 
 Mox eris quod ego nunc. 
 
 The above inscription, in a churchyard at Eadstock, 
 
195 
 
 ] u Germany, long puzzled alike the learned and un- 
 learned. By accident the meaning was discovered ; 
 and the solution is equally remarkahle for its in- 
 genuity and for the morality it inculcates : — 
 
 " O superhe ! quid superbis ? tua superbia te su- 
 perabit. Terra es, et in terram ibis. Mox eris quod 
 ego nunc." — " vain man ! why shouldest thou be 
 proud ? Thy pride will be thy ruin. Dust thou art. 
 and to dust thou shalt return. Soon shalt thou be 
 what I am now." 
 
 * Silo Princeps Fecit. 
 
 TICEFSPECNCEPSFECIT 
 
 ICEFSPECNINCEPSFECI 
 
 CEFSPECNIEINCEPSFEC 
 
 EFSPECJSTIEPEINCEPSFE 
 
 FSPECNIEPOPEINCEPSF 
 
 SPECNIEPOLOPEINCEPS 
 
 PECNIEPOLILOPEINCEP 
 
 ECNIEPOLI^ILOPEINCE 
 
 PECNIEPOLILOPEIiSrCEP 
 
 SPECNIEPOLOPEINCEPS 
 
 FSPECNIEPOPEIJSTCEPSF 
 
 EFSPECNIEPEIXCEPSFE 
 
 CEFSEPC1SIIEINCEPSFEC 
 
 ICEFSPECNINCEPSFECI 
 
 TICEFSPECNCEPSFECIT 
 
 * At the entrance of the Church of St. Salvador in the city of 
 Oviedo, in Spain, is a most remarkable tomb, erected by a prince 
 named Silo, with this very curious Latin inscription which mav be 
 read 270 ways by beginning with the capital letter S in the centre 
 
196 
 
 On the Duke of Burgundy's tomb in St. George's 
 Church, near Conde: — 
 
 Carolus hoc busto Burgundae gloria gentis, 
 Conditur, EuropaB qui fait ante timor. 
 
 Near the left wall in the Protestant-ground at Eome 
 is a monument to Lord Barrington, and a tombstone 
 to the infant child of Mr. "William Lambton : — 
 
 Go thou, white in thy soul, and fill a throne 
 Of innocence and purity in heaven ! 
 
 On a tombstone in the churchyard at Hochheim, a 
 village where one of the best species of Rhenish is 
 produced, and from the name of which our generic 
 Hock is derived : — 
 
 This grave holds Caspar Schink, who came to dine, 
 And taste the noblest vintage of the Rhine ; 
 Three nights he sat, and thirty bottles drank, 
 Then lifeless by the board of Bacchus sank. 
 Only one comfort have we in the case, — 
 The trump will raise him in the proper place. 
 
 Here lies Peg, that drunken sot, 
 Who dearly loved her jug and pot ; 
 There she lies, as sure as can be, 
 She killed herself by drinking brandy. 
 
197 
 
 Calcutta. 
 
 Bene: 
 AT. HT, HiS: ST— 
 
 Oneli: E: Skat. . 
 
 He, Ei, N. eg. Eayc— 
 
 (Hang'd) 
 
 .P. E. 
 
 ! mab. V. Syli, Fetol— 
 
 IF..Ele: 
 
 (SSCL) 
 
 Ayb . . . Tear. 
 
 . Than. 
 
 Del Ays 
 
 : Hego. 
 Therpel : 
 . Fand. 
 No, WS. He : stur 
 N'D to Ear, 
 TH, h, Ersel 
 
 Fy ! EWE : EP 
 
 In: G. F. E: IE: N 
 D. S.L 
 Et, mea D 
 V: I. 
 
 Sea : Batey. 
 
 O! V: rl 
 
 EiE Fan. 
 
 .D. D. 
 
 ETT. ! V.E.E 
 
 Tes. F. O.EW: H 
 
 .ATa. 
 
198 
 
 Vai LS. a. flo. 
 
 ! do. F. Tea. E. 
 SW: Hok: No: WS: 
 
 Buti. nar. U. 
 
 No! Ey: Ear, SI: N. 
 
 SO: Metal: 
 
 L. Pit. c. 
 
 HERO: . . r. Bro, a: 
 
 D. P. 
 
 ANS, Hei 
 
 N. H. 
 
 Ers. Hop. ma : 
 
 T.B. 
 
 Ea: Gai N. . 
 
 Under this stone lies Meredith Morgan, 
 Who blew the bellows of our Church organ ; 
 Tobacco he hated, to smoke most unwilling, 
 Yet never so pleased as when pipes he was filling; 
 No reflection on him for rude speech could be cast, 
 Tho' he gave our old organist many a blast. 
 
 No puffer was he, 
 
 Tho' a capital blower ; 
 
 He could fill double Gr, 
 
 And now lies a note lower. 
 
 In the Cathedral of Sienna, 
 Celebrated for its floor being inlaid with the history 
 of the Old Testament, is the following singular 
 ^ Epitaph, probably placed there as a memento to an 
 ^ Italian Toby Philpot. 
 
199 
 
 Wine gives life, it was death to me, 
 I could not behold the dawn of morning 
 In a sober state — Even my bones 
 Wow thirst. — Stranger ! 
 Sprinkle my grave with wine ; 
 Empty the flaggons and come, — 
 Earewell, Drinkers ! 
 
 Over a grave in Prince Edward's Island : 
 
 Here lies the body of poor Charles Lamb, 
 Killed by a tree that fell slap bang. 
 
 Here lies the body of Gabriel John, 
 
 Who died in the year of a thousand and one ; 
 
 Pray for the soul of Gabriel John, 
 
 Tou may if you please, 
 
 Or let it alone ; 
 
 For its all one 
 
 To Gabriel John, 
 
 "Who died in the year of a thousand and one. 
 
 Here lies John Bun, 
 Who was killed by a gun ; 
 His name wasn't Bun, his real name was Wood, 
 But Wood wouldn't rhyme with gun, so I thought Bun 
 should. 
 
 On U. Dobson. 
 Here lies Dobson, all covered with mould, 
 Who never gave penny to have his head polled, 
 Saying it was an uncharitable device, 
 To grub up his hair and starve all the lice. 
 
200 
 
 Upon Peter Staggs. 
 Poor Peter Staggs now rests beneath this rail, 
 Who loved his joke, his pipe, and mug of ale ; 
 For 20 years he did his duties well, 
 Of ostler, boots, and waiter at the Bell. 
 But Death stepp'd in, and ordered Peter Staggs, 
 To feed the worms, and leave the farmers' nags. 
 The church clock struck one — alas ! 'twas Peter's 
 
 knell, 
 "Who sigh'd "I'm coming— that's the ostler's bell!" 
 
 On the Countess of Pembroke, sister to the Mar- 
 quis of Dorset. 
 
 O cruel Atropos what does thou mean 
 To leave my Lord Marquis sisterless clean ? 
 Now she is dead, and layed in her grave, 
 Her husband shall never such another wife haye, 
 Now she is dead and layed in the ground, 
 My Lord Marquis had rather have spent 300 pound. 
 
 Here lies cut down like unripe fruit 
 The wife of Deacon Amos Shute, 
 Who died of drinking too much coffee, 
 Anny Dominy eighteen forty. 
 
 The following epitaph on a gallant soldier is said to 
 have rendered a brother of the dead insane. 
 
 John Macpherson was a very remarkable person, 
 He stood six feet two without his shoe 
 And he was slew at Waterloo. 
 
201 
 
 On Walter Ealegh. 
 
 Here lyeth Walter Ealegh that arrant villain, 
 That would sell any friend he had for a shilling. 
 
 Gentle Eeader, Gentle Eeader, 
 Look on this spot where I do lie, 
 I was always a very good feeder, 
 But now the worms do feed on I. 
 
 In St. Agnello, Naples. 
 
 Dear Father receive this monument as a small 
 acknowledgment for all the valuable favours received 
 from you. Had it been possible for me to have trans- 
 formed myself into a marble, you would have had no 
 other tomb than my body, nor any other epitaph than 
 this : — " The grateful Alexis returns his father the 
 being he received from him, and becomes his parent's 
 sepulchre." 
 
 On a Libertine. 
 
 Here lies the vile dust of the sinfullest wretch 
 That ever the devil delay'd to fetch ; 
 But the reader will grant it was needless he should, 
 When he saw him a-coming as fast as he could. 
 
 On the Duke of Marlborough. 
 
 Here lies John Duke of Marlborough, 
 
 Who run the French thorough and thorough ; 
 
202 
 
 He married Sarah Jennings, spinster, 
 
 Died at Windsor, and was buried at Westminster. 
 
 In Jersey. 
 
 Weep, Stranger, for a father spill' d, 
 
 From a stage-coach, and thereby killed ; 
 
 His name was John Sykes, a maker of sassengers, 
 
 Slain with three other outside passengers. 
 
 On a Child in the Cemetery of Lanes ville. 
 
 This little hero that lies here 
 Was conquered by the diarrhoea. 
 
 On Sir Francis Vere. 
 
 By one of the Wits of his own Times. 
 
 Where Yere sought Death, armed with his sword and 
 
 shield, 
 Death was afraid to meet him — in the field ; 
 But, when his weapons he had laid aside, 
 Death, like a coward, strook him, and he died. 
 
 At Kir Keel. 
 
 Here lie the remains of Thomas Nicols, who died 
 in Philadelphia, March 1753. 
 
 Had he lived he would have leen luried here. 
 
203 
 
 On a Talkative Old Maid. 
 
 Beneath this silent stone is laid 
 A noisy antiquated maid ; 
 Who from her cradle talk'd till death, 
 And ne'er before was out of breath. 
 
 Under this sod lies John Eound 
 
 Who was lost at sea and never was found. 
 
 On the Death of Shaw, the Pugilist and Lifeguards- 
 man, who was killed at Waterloo. 
 
 Death never laid his iron paw 
 Upon a braver man than Shaw ! 
 
 Gainsay the fact who can ? 
 And as he made the corse his own, 
 " Tou see," cried Death, in vaunting tone, 
 
 " He is no Life- Guard- Man /" 
 
 In a Church- Yard in Ireland. 
 
 Here lies Pat Steele. 
 
 That's very true : 
 Who was he ? — What was he ? 
 
 What's that to you ? 
 
204 
 
 In memory of Sarah Palmer, 
 
 Who departed this life March 16, 1782, in the 91st 
 year of her age ; leaving children, grandchildren, great 
 grandchildren, and treble grandchildren, 166. 
 
 By his kind help who sits on Heaven's throne, 
 I reach'd the reverend age of ninety-one. 
 At eighty- seven I had a broken shin — 
 At eighty-nine I halved my dose of gin ; 
 And, being come to ripe maturity, 
 Plac'd all my thoughts upon futurity, 
 Thinking I heard a blessed angel say — 
 Cheery, old soul ! pack up, and come away. 
 
 On General Wolfe. 
 
 On the death of General Wolfe, a premium was 
 offered for the best-written epitaph on that brave 
 officer. A number of poets of all descriptions started 
 as candidates, and, among the rest, was a poem sent 
 to the editor of the Public Ledger, of which the 
 following is one of the stanzas : — 
 
 He march'd without dread or fears, 
 
 At the head of his bold grenadiers ; 
 
 And what was more remarkable — nay, very particular, 
 
 He climb'd up rocks that were quite perpendicular. 
 
205 
 
 On Kichard Harper, aged 87, and Mary his Wife, 
 aged 81. 
 
 They was what they was ; 
 What every good man and woman ought to be, 
 That was they. 
 
 On an Illegitimate Child of Mr. Ex-Sheriff Parkins. 
 
 Here lies the child of Hannah White, 
 And eke of Sheriff Parkins, 
 Begot one charming summer's night. 
 When Ex was on his larkings. 
 
 On a Lady dying in Child-birth. 
 
 Born at first to bring another forth, 
 She leaves the world, to leave the world her worth. 
 Thus phoenix-like, as she was born to bleed, 
 Dying herself, renews it in her seed. 
 
 On the Venerable Bede. * 
 
 This great and good man was never canonized ; but 
 he obtained the title of " venerable," by the volun- 
 tary homage of his contemporaries, and from the 
 utility of his works ; an attention much more honour- 
 able to his memory. The Monks, however, not 
 
206 
 
 satisfied with such respectable cause for the appellation, 
 have favoured us with two accounts of its origin. 
 " When blind," say some of these authors, "he preached 
 to a heap of stones, thinking himself in a church, and 
 the stones were so much affected by his eloquence and 
 piety, that they answered, ' Amen, venerable Bede, 
 Amen.' " While others assert, that, " his scholars 
 being desirous of placing upon his tomb an epitaph in 
 rhyme, agreeable to the usage of the times, wrote — 
 
 1 Efec sunt in fossa 
 Bedae presbyteri ossa,' 
 
 which not meeting complete approbation, the much- 
 vexed poet determined to fast until he should succeed 
 better : accordingly, he expunged the word presbyteri, 
 and in vain attempted to substitute one more sonorous 
 and consistent with metre, until, falling fast asleep, an 
 angel filled up the blank thus left, and rendered the 
 couplet thus — 
 
 " Hsec sunt in fossa, 
 Beda3 venerabilis ossa." 
 
 On a Young Man, killed by Drinking. 
 
 t He. e be I must, 
 Wrapt up in dust, 
 Confined to be sober. 
 Clarke,* take care, 
 
 * A pot companion. 
 
207 
 
 Lest you come here, 
 
 For, faith, here's no October. 
 
 A good mother I have been, 
 Many troubles I have seen, 
 All my life I've done my best, 
 And so I hope my soul's at rest. 
 
 On the death of a most amiable and beautiful young 
 lady, of the name of Peach. 
 
 BY ME. BISSET. 
 
 Death long had wish'd within his reach, 
 So sweet, so delicate a Peach : 
 He struck the Tree — the trunk lay mute ; 
 But Angels bore away the Fruit ! 
 
 Eandolph Peter, 
 Of Oriel the Eater. 
 
 "Whoe'er you are tread softly, I entreat you, 
 Tor if he chance to wake, be sure he'll eat you. 
 
 On a Glutton. 
 
 At length, my friends, the feast of life is o'er, 
 I've eat sufficient, and I'll drink no more ; 
 My night is come, I've spent a jovial day, 
 'Tis time to part, but oh ! what is to pay ! 
 
208 
 
 In mournful Remembrance of John Jones Smith of | 
 Smoketown. 
 
 He smoked his cigarette, till from it came 
 That subtle venom spreading from its flame, 
 Which poisoned every fibre of his frame, 
 
 And laid him low. 
 
 Tet, whilst he smoked, he languishingly sighed, 
 It is but paper round tobacco plied ; 
 "When, like the flicker of a lamp, he died, 
 
 And rests below. 
 
 Q <Q i 
 
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