I laboured long with grief and pain,
No help was found for me,
And doctors' skill all proved in vain
To ease my agony.
Weep not for me my husband dear,
I am not dead but sleepeth here.
Your husband dear doth not now weep,
But here with you will lie and sleep.
Immortal bud of mortal birth,
To thee brief date was given,
The flower that was too fair for earth,
Is called to bloom in heaven.
My time was short, few were my days,
My sins the less, give God the praise,
Weep not for me, my glass was run,
'Twas the Lord's will and must be done.
Her early death,
To those who knew her well,
Hath left a sorrow here,
That words can feebly tell.
Weep not for me my children dear,
Nor shed for me a single tear,
In heaven I hope we all shall meet,
Where all our joys shall be complete.
In South Molton Church, Devonshire, on Amias Bampfield and his father :
Twelve of seventeen are not, of fifteen are eleven
Proceeding from this stock, praise be to God in heaven.
The following was by the request of the author inscribed upon his tombstone in the Churchyard of Kirk o' Muir, St. Ninians :
Here lies the banes of
Auld Muir Mill,
Who did nae guid
But muckle ill.
And whare he's gane
And how he fares
There's nae one kens,
And as few cares.
In Greyfriars' Churchyard, Edinburgh :—
For the poore his helping hand,
And his friends his kyndness fand;
And on his deare bed-fellow,
Jennet Macmath, he did bestow,
Out of his lovelie affection,
A fit and goodlie portion.
955 Foots Cray Churchyard, Kent :
Weep not for me, my husband, children dear,
I am not dead, but only sleeping here.
Short was my life, but longer is my rest,
God called me from you when He thought it best.
No longer on earth your faces shall I see,
But hope above our souls may happy be.
Reader, behold this mossy turf doth hide
A mother's hope, a brother's, sister's pride.
Snatched from this world of sorrow and of joy,
To God above in endless bliss to share.
How young or old thou art, thou here may'st see
How frail, how weak, what dust all men be.
Let this cold monitor convince thee well
That soon for thee must toll the passing bell.
In Port of Menteith Churchyard, Perthshire :—
Madeline Douglas, ladies' maid, Rednock House.
Erected by Miss Graham Stirling, 1818.
Death's dominion shall not last,
For Christ has risen on high.
May He this rosebud quick transplant,
To flourish in the sky.
In Braken Churchyard, Shetland :
He was a peaceable and quiet man, and to
All appearance a sincere Christian.
His death was very much regretted
Which was caused by the stupidity of
Laurence Tullochin Clothister, who
Gave him saltpetre instead of Epsom salts,
Of which he died in the space of 3
Hours after taking a dose of it.
In Edwalton Churchyard :—
She drank good ale, good punch and wine,
And lived to the age of ninety-nine.
In Kinver Church, Staffordshire :
To the Memory of Eliza, wife of W. Crawsley. She died in childbed, Nov. 13, 1813, aged 28.
In this sequestered fane, this humble stone,
Guiltless of art, adorned by truth alone,
Thy virtues, lov'd Eliza, best may show,
And point the sources of a husband's woe.
What if no scenes of busier life appear,
With dazzling radiance in thy brief career?
Thine was the soul that shunn'd the general gaze
Thine the mild lustre of domestic praise.
Five fleeting years in joys unsullied past,
Four pledges of delight, too pure to last,
Presaged how brightly in more lengthen❜d life
Had shone the friend, the mother, and the wife.
Charm'd by thy tongue, by thy example fired,
No more my youth life's giddy course desired.
Oh! how without thee shall the path be trod
That leads to Life, to Virtue, and to God!
Yet shall my soul His high behest obey
Whose bounty gave, whose justice takes away;
Nor e'er my grateful heart forget that he
Ow'd thee to Heaven, who ow'd his heaven to thee.
In Mauchlan Churchyard :—
Erected by his fellow-students as a memorial of their esteem and
the mortal part of Mr. James
Paterson, preacher of the Gospel,
under
the inspection of the Associate
Burgher Synod.
His judgment was accurate,
his imagination lovely,
his taste correct and delicate,
his heart benevolent, and exquisitely feeling,
his manners were simple and elegant,
modest and fascinating.
The religion which he studied
and taught smoothed the journey
of life, brightened the prospect of
immortality, and sweetened the
cup of death.
He was born August 14th, MDCCLXX,
and died November 11th, MDCCCII.
Though He slay me, yet will I
trust in Him. Job xiii., 15.
In Comrie Churchyard, Perthshire :—
My faithful friend, my wife so dear,
She is not dead, but sleepeth here;
Great is the loss I sustain,
But hope in Heaven to meet again.
In Brough Marsh Churchyard, near Rockcliffe, Cumberland :-
Underneath this humble stone,
Sleeps a skull of-name unknown.
Deep in Eden's bed 'twas found.
Was the luckless owner drowned?
What matter, since we all must die,
Whether death be wet or dry!
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