Part 2

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.

GAWSWORTH.

Reader, take notice, That on ye 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 again.

Cornwall.

TRURO.

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; 'Twas 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, For 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.

"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 Roger 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 Roger took to dying."

* * * * *

"Here is what a Cornish gentleman finds it in his heart to inscribe upon his dear departed:--

"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."

PENRYN.

Here lies William Smith, And what is somewhat rarish, He was born, bred, and Hanged in this parish.

CALSTOCK.

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.

* * * * *

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.

ST. PAUL'S CHURCHYARD, MOUSEHOLE.

On Dolly Pentreath.

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!

STRATTON.

Life's like an Inn, think man this truth upon, Some only breakfast and are quickly gone; Others to dinner stay and are full fed, The oldest man but sups and goes to bed. Large is his score who tarries through the day, Who goes the soonest has the least to pay.

SOUTH PETHERWIN.

Beneath this stone lies Humphrey and Joan, Who together rest in peace, Living indeed, They disagreed, But now all quarrels cease.

LANDULPH.

Here lyeth the body of Theodore Paleologus, of Pesaro, in Italye, descended from the imperyal line of the last Christian Emperor of Greece, being the sonne of Camillo, the sonne of Prosper, the sonne of Theodore, the sonne of John, the sonne of Thomas, the second brother of Constantine Paleologus, that rayned in Constantinople until subdued by the Turks, who married with Mary, the daughter of William Ball, of Hadlye, in Suffolk, gent., and had issue five children, Theodore, John, Ferdinando, Maria, and Dorothy; and departed this life at Clyfton, the 21st of January, 1636.

* * * * *

On Sir Francis 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.

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.

GUNWALLOE.

Read backwards or forwards--

Shall we all die? We shall die all. All die shall we-- Die all we shall.

GRADE.

Date 1671.

Why here?--why not, it's all one ground, And here none will my dust confound. My Saviour lay where no one did-- Why not a member as his head, No quire to sing, no bells to ring, Why so thus buried was my king. I grudge the fashion of the day To fat the church and stane the lay, Though nothing now of the be seen, I hope my name and bed be green.

CALSTOCK.

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. Tho' some of you perhaps may think From danger to be free, Yet in a moment may be sent, Into the grave like me.

* * * * *

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 Roskelly, 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.

ST. NEOT.

Here lieth the body of John Robyns, of this parish, buried the 27th day of December, 1724, about the 80th year of his age.

"Prosopeia Defuncti."

"Mark thou that readest, and my case behold, Ere long thou shalt be closed in death's fold, As well as I; nothing on earth can save Our mortal bodies, from the darksome grave. Then timely think thereon, to mind thy end; Wisely to be prepared when God shall send To fetch thee hence; and then thou shalt but die, To live at rest with Christ eternally. "Here lieth John Robyns, in his bed of dust, Who in the Lord did ever put his trust; And dying, gave a pension to the poor, Yearly for ever, which unlocks the door Of everlasting bliss, for him to reign With Christ his head, his great, and truest gain: And with the holy angels sit and sing Eternal anthems to the heavenly king." "If this stone be not kept in repair, The legacy devolves unto his heir."

BODMIN.

Here lies the Body of John Meadow, His life passed away like a shadow.

TRURO.

Here lies we Babies three, Here we must lie Until the Lord do cry, "Come out, and, live wi' I!"

Derbyshire.

BAKEWELL.

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.

Devonshire.

STOKE FLEMING.

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.

Beneath this stone, in sweet repose, The friend of all, a fair one lies: Yet 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!

LYDFORD.

"Here lies, in a _horizontal_ position, the outside _case_ of George Routleigh, Watchmaker, 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 wrong_, 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_, _repaired_, and _set a-going_ for the world to come."

TAVISTOCK.

Under this stone lies three children dear, Two be buried at Tawton, and the other here?

* * * * *

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."

KINGSWEAR.

Vos qui ici venez Pur l'alme Philip priez, Trente jours de pardon Serra vostre guerdon.

KING'S TEIGNTON.

On Richard Adlam.

Richardus Adlam hujus ecclesiae 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, And force this kill-priest to revere good laws!"

EXETER.

Billeted here by death In quarters I remain, When the last trumpet sounds, I'll rise and march again.

KINGSBRIDGE.

On a man who was too poor to be buried with his relations in the Church:--

Here lie I, at the Chancel door; Here I lie, because I'm poor; The further in the more to pay; Here I lie as warm as they!

BIDEFORD.

"Her marriage day appointed was, And wedding-clothes provided, But when the day arrived did, She sickened and she died did."

* * * * *

"Here lies two brothers by misfortune surrounded, One died of his wounds and the other was drownded."

MILTON ABBOT.

To Bartholomew Doidge--And Joan his wife.

Joan was buried the 1st day of Feby.' 1681. Bartholomew was buried the 12th day of Feby.' 1681. "She first deceas'd--he a little try'd "To live without her--lik'd it not, and died."

AULIS-COMBE.

Here lie the remains of James Pady, Brickmaker, late of the parish, in hopes that his clay will be remoulded 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 Phillips, 1837.

Vain man, in health and strength do not confide, This I enjoyed, yet in my bloom I died. Not long before as likely for to live, As any of the livliest sons of Eve. But death may come in an untimely way, Therefore prepare against that solemn day.

* * * * *

John Linning, 1824.

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.

* * * * *

Richard Snell, 1801.

At first I had a watery grave, Now here on earth a place I have; Wife and children don't weep for me, Fortune and Fate none can forsee.

CREDITON.

On Eadulph, Bishop of Devon, ob. 932.

Sis testis Christe, quod non jacet hic lapis iste, Corpus ut ornetur, sed spiritus ut memoretur. Quisquis eris qui transiris, sta, perlege, plora; Sum quod eris, fueramq; quod es; pro me precor ora. Christ! bear me witness, that this stone is not Put here t'adorn a body, that must rot; But keep a name, that it mayn't be forgot. Whoso doth pass, stay, read, bewail, I am What thou must be; was what thou art the same; Then pray for me, ere you go whence ye came.

LYDFORD.

Elizabeth Farington, wife of John Farington, 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 ye judgment day. Then shall I rise, in shining glory bright, To meet my Lord with comfort and delight.

BRENT-TOR.

Wife of John Coleirm. 1694.

If thou be curious, friend, peruse this stone; If thou be not soe, pray let it alone. Against Death's poison Virtue's the best art, When good men seem to die, they but depart. Live well, then, all; with us thoult feele, Bare dying makes no Death, but dying _weal_?

[The last word was obliterated.]

WHITECHURCH.

John Spry and Margaret his wife. 1738.

In a good old age, By death we did fall, And here 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.

* * * * *

Thomas Ching. 1857.

In health and strength from home I went, I thought so to return; But while at work I lost my life, And left my friends to mourn. Then thou who knowest my fate, While pondering o'er my sod, So short may be thy date, "Prepare to meet thy God."

TIVERTON.

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 Erle of Devonshire; With Maud, my wife, to me full dere, We lyved togeather fyfty-fyve yere. What wee gave, wee have; Whatt wee spent wee had; What wee left, we loste.

WHITCHURCH.

Richard Shortridge. 1831.

Hark! what is that noise so mournful and slow, That sends on the winds the tickings of woe, In sound like the knell of a spirit that's fled, And tells us, alas! a brother is dead? Yes, gone to the grave is he whom we lov'd And lifeless the form that manfully mov'd, The clods of the valley encompass his head, This tombstone reminds us our brother is dead.

Dorsetshire.

WIMBORNE.

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-- Nor did he yield until his mortal breath Was hard run down by that grim sportsman--Death. Reader, if cash thou art in want of any, Dig four feet deep, and thou wilt find--a Penny.

EAST KNOWLE TURNPIKE.

Since Man to Man is so unjust, That no Man knows what man to trust, My Roads are good, my Toll's just, Pay to-day, to-morrow I'll trust.

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.

LILLINGTON.

I poorly lived, I poorly died, And when I was buried nobody cried.

* * * * *

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 ----- Reader, behold a wonder rarely wrought, And whilst thou seem'st to read, thou readest _not_.

DORCHESTER.

Frank from his Betty snatch'd by Fate, Shows how uncertain is our state; He smiled at morn, at noon lay dead-- Flung 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.

Durham.

QUARRINGTON.

To the memory of Thomas Bouchier, dated 1635.

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 frend, His last words best, a glorious eve (they say) Foretells a glorious day, Erected and composed with teares by his pensive sonne, James Bouchier.

* * * * *

Amongst the ludicrous and eccentric Epitaphs, perhaps one of the worst is that at Gateshead, on Robert Trollop, architect of the Exchange and Town Court of Newcastle:--

"Here lies Robert Trollop, Who made yon stones roll up: When death took his soul up, His body filled this hole up."

Essex.

BRENTWOOD.

"Here lies Isaac Greentree."

A man passing through the churchyard wrote as follows:--

There is a time when these green trees shall fall, And Isaac Greentree rise above them all.

MESSING.

Here lieth buried John Porter, Yeoman, who died 29th of 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 day of death, may prove thy friend.

CHELMSFORD.

Jane L. Andrews, aet. 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; 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."

MALDON.

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.

STANFORD.

Here lies the body of Richard 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.

LITTLE ILFORD.

In Memory of Smart Leithceulier, 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 productions 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 bankrupt, one of his creditors, being ruined by him, wrote under it:--

And the Lord answered and said,-- "Because thy debts a'nt paid!"

ROXWELL.

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.

STONDON.

"Who lists to se and knowe himselfe, May loke upon this glase, And vew the beaten pathe of dethe, Which he shall one day passe; Which way J. Rainford Kellingworth, With patient mind, have gone,-- Whose body here, as death hath changed, Lies covered with this stone; When dust to dust is brought again, The earth she hath her owne,-- This shall the lot of all men be, Before the trumpe be blowne!" April 17th, 1575.

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!"

* * * * *

On a decayed monument in Horndon Church is the following inscription:--

"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 We rise to Sion's Mount from Horndon-on-the-Hill."

* * * * *

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!"

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, for hym, 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 twenty 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, ih memory of Anne, wife of William Napper, who died in 1584:--