In St. Pancras Churchyard, London :

Hence she did go, just as she did begin
Sorrow to know, before she knew to sin.
Death that does sin and sorrow thus prevent,

Is the next blessing to a life well spent.

In St. James's, Clerkenwell, London, on John Weever, about 1634:

:

Lancashire gave me breath,

And Cambridge education,

Middlesex gave me death,

And this church my humation.

On Robert Burton, author of "Anatomy of Melancholy," 1639 :

Paucis notus, paucioribus ignotus

Hic jacet Democritus junior,

Cui vitam pariter et mortem

Dedit Melancholia.

On an old man :

Here lies the man was born and cried,
Lived sixty years, fell sick, and died.

In the Canongate Churchyard, Edinburgh :--
Here lies great Mr. Wilkie, who of late
Was minister within the Canongate.
Near twice twelve years he in that office spent
With greatest praise while life to him was lent.
His birth and death this little stone doth bear,
Which Rachel Sinclair, his widow, did uprear
Unto his memory, that of her love

To ages all it might a token prove.

In Markeshall Church, Essex, 1620.

:

Here lieth the body of Mary Waters, wife of Robert Honywood, her only husband; who had at her decease lawfully descended from her 367 children; 16 of her own body: 114 grandchildren : 228 in the 3rd generation and 9 in the fourth. She lived a most pious life, and died in the 93rd year of her age.

In Lillington Churchyard, Dorset, on a man named Cole, date

1669:

Reader, you have within this grave

A Cole rakt up in dust.

His Courteous Fate saw it was Late,
And that to Bed He must.

Soe all was swept up to be kept

Alive until the day,

The Trump should blow it up and shew
The Cole but sleeping lay.

Then doe not doubt the Coles not out,

Though it in ashes lyes,

That little sparke now in the Darke
Will like the Phoenyx rise.

In East Allington Churchyard, Devonshire, on Elizabeth, wife of Richard Wood, 1662 :-

Eliza's soul, a graffe divine,

With clay was fastened into Wood,

The tree did suddenly decline,

The fruit was blasted in the bud.

In Holyrood House Churchyard :

Two brethren Hendersons here lie below,
Sons to Alexander Henderson, gardener,
Struck in their prime of youth by death's sad blow.
Richard could write and plead, Robert could cure.
Their arts strength; stature seemed them to secure
Longer from this attack; but we may see
Nothing impedes the course of destinie.

In the Church of Broughton Gifford, Wiltshire :—

The life of man is a trewe lottarie,

Where venturouse death draws forth lots short and longe,
Yet free from fraude and partial flatterie

He shuffled shields of several size among,

Drewe Longe, and so drewe longer his short days

The Auncient of Days beyond all time to praise.

In Sevenoaks Church :

Heere lies her dust whome second loue
Neuer could to marriage moue,
But did so longe a widdow tarrie
Til that Christ her soule did marrie.
Thusse I cannot saye she's dead,
But to a heavenly husband wed.
There blest her soule liues in eternitie,
Her uirtues here grauen in the memory
Liue in the loue of her posteritie.

Transmigrauit Ano 1618, Æta 82.

In Stokenham Churchyard, Devonshire-acrostic on the tomb of Katherine Randall, shot by soldiers in an attack on her father's house during the wars of the Commonwealth :

Kind reader judge, here's underlaid

A hopeful, young, and virtuous maid.
Thrown from the top of earthly pleasure
Headlong: by which she gained a treasure
Environed with heaven's power,

Rounded with angels for that hour

I n which she fell: God took her home

Not by just law, but martyrdom.

E ach groan she fetched upon her bed

Roared out aloud-I'm murdered.

A nd shall this blood, which here doth lie

'N vain for right and vengeance cry?

Do men not think, though gone from hence,
A venge God can't His innocence.

L et bad men think, so learn ye good
Live each that's here doth cry for blood.

In South Leith Churchyard :

A humble, prudent, single-hearted saint,
A public good, and now a public want;
Sprung from progenitors whose virtuous race
For many ages lived in this place;
His early piety and skilful art
Erects a monument in every heart.

On Chatterton, in a Bristol Churchyard :—

A poor and friendless boy was he—to whom
Is raised this monument, without a tomb.
There seek his dust, there o'er his genius sigh,
Where famished outcasts unrecorded lie.
Here let his name, for here his genius rose
To might of ancient days, in peace repose!
The wondrous boy! to more than want consigned,
To cold neglect-worse famine of the mind;
All uncongenial the bright world within,
To that without of darkness and of sin.

He lived a mystery-died! here, reader, pause:
Let God be judge, and mercy plead the cause!

On a cardmaker, in a Lancashire Churchyard :—

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.

In Duddingston Churchyard :

Here lyes the body of William Duncan, late Bailie of Duddingston. He lived 71 years, and died 5th June, 1768.

Nor Dedalus nor Tully's skill can show

His matchless worth that's buried here below;

True to his word, just, charitable, kind,

Of an obliging and a constant mind,
In public and in private matters too,
As bailie, elder, husband, father true,
He to his wife and children left behind
The lasting tokens of a virtuous mind.
They unto him, their gratitude to prove,
Have caused erect this badge of mutual love.
But, reader, stay, since no enjoyments can
Redeem thee from the common lot of man;
Look on this fabric with a serious eye,
By living well prepare thyself to die.
Agricola et Prætor, senior, colo, protego, condo,
Rus, jus, templa, manu, consilioque prece.

Y

In Exeter, Devonshire :

:

Nine of his wives beside him lie,

So shall the tenth, when she doth die.

In St. Thomas's Churchyard, Ryde :-
:-

Calm on the bosom of thy God,
Fair spirit! rest thee now;
E'en while with ours thy footsteps trod,

His seal was on thy brow.

Dust to its narrow house beneath,

Soul to its place on high !

They who have seen thy look in death

No more may fear to die.

In Holyrood Chapel, Edinburgh :

Here lies Mary Moss, daughter to Edward Moss, who departed this life in the year of God 1671. Her age 18.

Here lies interr'd chaste beauty's maid,
In whom death virtue had betray'd;
Meek, modest, mild, sweet Mary Moss,
Perfection's flower in primily bloss ;
Transformed now all is into dust,
Had the respect of all in trust.
From wedlock's hope divorced here-
Stop, reader, and her worth admire.

In Stratford-on-Avon Churchyard :—

"Here lyeth ye body of Susanna, wife of John Hall, gent., ye daught. of William Shakspeare, gent.; shee deceased ye 11th July, A. 1649, age 66.

Witty above her sexe; but that's not all,

Wise to Salvation was good Mrs. Hall.

Something of Shakspeare was in that; but this
Wholy of him with whom she's now in blisse.

Then, passenger, hast ne're a tear

To weepe with her that wept with all-
That wept, yet set herselfe to chere

Them up with Comfort's Cordiall?
Her love shall live, her mercy spread,
When thou hast ne're a tear to shed.