Gleanings in Graveyards Part 8

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 pa.s.s, 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 s.h.i.+ning 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 G.o.d."

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 Devons.h.i.+re; 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 encompa.s.s his head, This tombstone reminds us our brother is dead.

Dorsets.h.i.+re.

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.