ON THE CHILDREN OF TIMOTHY WILCOX,
Here lie, in the blessed hope of a joyful resurrection, the
aged one, two, and three years.
Three children small,
Compos'd my all;
But envious death
Has stopp'd their breath,
And left, d'ye see,
My wife and me
Above the knee
In sorrow's slough.
To help us through,
The Lord alone,
Who hears our groan,
Knows how and when !
Amen! Amen!
ON TIMOTHY WILCOX.
There down at Catherine's * I kept a school,
Vended small wares, caught rats, and carded wool;
My wife excell'd in making British wine,
But she's alive, and is no longer mine;
For I am dead, and she won't follow-
I can no longer whoop and hollow.
Reader, if thou dost wish to know
The name of him here lying low,
Look down upon this stone and see
Wilcox conjoin'd with Timothy.
ON JOHN SULLEN.
Here lies John Sullen, and it is God's will,
He that was sullen should be sullen still
He still is sullen, if the truth ye seek,-
Knock until doomsday, Sullen will not speak.
* A village near Bath-Easton, Somerset.
ON PARTRIDGE, THE ALMANACK-MAKER.
Here, five foot deep, lies on his back
A cobbler, star-monger, and quack;
Who to the stars, in pure good will,
Does to his best look upward still.
We eep, all you customers that use
His pills, his almanacks, or shoes;
And you that did your fortunes seek,
Step to his grave but once a week:
This earth, which bears his body's print,
You'll find, has so much virtue in't,
That I durst pawn my ears 'twill tell
Whate'er concerns you full as well,
In physic, stolen goods, or love,
As he himself could, when above.
IN AN OBSCURE CHURCH-YARD IN YORK
SHIRE.
Here I lie,
Killed by a sky
Rocket in my eye.
Emulous of the praise which the above ingenious composition received from the rustics of the village, a rival rhymester, on the death of a poor ostler, who was driven over, produced two lines, which supplied the place of elegy:—
Here I lays,
Killed by a chaise.
IN CHELTENHAM CHURCH-YARD.
Here lies the body of Molly Dickie,
The wife of Hall Dickie, Taylor.
Two great fisicians first
My loving husband tried
To cure my pain
at last he got a third
and
then I died
ON TWO CHINESE ASTRONOMERS.
An epitaph on Hi and Ho, two Chinese astronomers, who were appointed to watch an eclipse; but having got drunk and neglected their duty, they were condemned to be executed by Ho Kang the emperor. Soon after it was discovered that the eclipse was invisible.
Here rest the bones of Ho and Hi,
Whose fate, though sad, was risible;
Being hung, because they could not spy
The eclipse, that was invisible.
Heigho! 'tis said a love of drink
Ocasioned all their trouble;
But this is hardly true, I think,
As drunken men see double.
Poor sable child of honesty and fun,
Thy travelling career on earth is done.
Alas! thy logic-how could death so rude,
Thy life and argument at once conclude.
No more conclusions from thy lips shall flow,
Uutil the grand conclusion here below;
When (sov'reign) mercy's fiat gently given,
Thou mayst conclude thy doom to dwell in heav'n.
The following is in the Church-Yard at Midhurst, Sussex.
ON AN INCORRIGIBLE SHREW.
Beneath this stone
Lies my wife, Joan,
To h-1 she's gone, no doubt;
For if she be not,
If heaven's her lot,
I must (God wot) turn out.
IN NEWHAVEN CHURCH-YARD.
Reader, with kind regard this grave survey,
Nor heedless pass where Tipper's ashes lay.
Honest he was, ingenuous, blunt, and kind,
And dared do what few dare do-speak his mind.
Philosophy and history well he knew,
Was versed in physic, and in surgery, too;
The best old stingo he both brew'd and sold,
Nor did one knavish act to get his gold.
He play'd through life a varied comic part,
And knew immortal Hudibras by heart.
Reader, in real truth such was the man-
Be better, wiser, laugh more, if you can.
IN A CHURCH-YARD IN GLOUCESTERSHIRE. 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;
But this I know-
She once was mine
To thee, O Lord, I her resign;
And am your humble Servant,
ROBERT KEmp.
Two persons lounging in a church-yard, one of them read over the following lines:
"A loving son, a parent dear,
A faithful friend, he lieth here."
"It is an honest Epitaph," said one, "if it be a true one. Oh," said his companion, "I can vouch for its truth, for I knew the deceased well, and he directed the inscription himself."
IN ALLHALLOWS' CHURCH, OXFORD.
What others singly wish-age, wisdom, wealth,
Children, to propagate their names and blood,
Chief place in city oft, unphisickt health,
And that which seasons all, the name of good,
In Levins were all mixt. Yet all are gone;
Onely the good name lasts. That look upon.
ON A COUNTRY SCHOOLMISTRESS.
Here lies a dame whom fate ordain'd,
By certain requisites unnam'd,
To instruct her generation:
Twas her's to give the rustic youth,
By methods rigid and uncouth,
The village education.
Her plans to ancient plans allied,
To gain this end she harshly plied
(So stubborn was the soil),
Hard blows and threats, and raving loud
To awe the young rebellious crowd,
And aid tuition's toil.
Now all her puny passion o'er,
No longer she locks up her door,
To keep her scholars in;
For she within this dungeon drear,
Shall sleep through many a distant year,
Nor ever storm again.
No flattering marble marks the spot,
To insinuate her future lot,
Or tell her age and name.
Yet, if no tombstone tells her tale,
Or our remembrance ne'er should fail,
To her 'tis all the same.
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