A collection of epitaphs and monumental inscriptions, ancient and modern, by W. Graham

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Страница 287 - Here Reynolds is laid, and to tell you my mind, He has not left a wiser or better behind : His pencil was striking, resistless, and grand : His manners were gentle, complying, and bland ; Still born to improve us in every part, His pencil our faces, his manners our heart : To coxcombs averse, yet most civilly steering, When they judged without skill he was still hard of hearing.
Страница 3 - Unblam'd through life, lamented in thy end, These are thy honours ! not that here thy bust Is mix'd with heroes, or with...
Страница 87 - Why do we mourn departing friends Or shake at death's alarms? 'tis but the voice that Jesus sends To call them to his arms.
Страница 239 - Lo! where this silent marble weeps, A Friend, a Wife, a Mother sleeps: A Heart, within whose sacred cell The peaceful Virtues lov'd to dwell. Affection warm, and Faith sincere, And soft Humanity were there. In agony, in death resign'd, She felt the Wound she left behind.
Страница 260 - Good friend, for Jesus' sake forbear To dig the dust enclosed here : Blest be the man that spares these stones, And curst be he that moves my bones.
Страница 205 - Death is the crown of life : Were death denied, poor man would live in vain ; Were death denied, to live would not be life ; Were death denied, even fools would wish to die. Death wounds to cure : we fall ; we rise ; we reign ! Spring from our fetters ; fasten in the skies ; Where blooming Eden withers in our sight : Death gives us more than was in Eden lost. This king of terrors is the prince of peace.
Страница 275 - EPITAPH ON CHARLES II. Here lies our Sovereign Lord the King, Whose word no man relies on, Who never said a foolish thing, Nor ever did a wise one.
Страница 172 - While the child was yet alive, I fasted and wept: for I said, Who can tell whether God will be gracious to me, that the child may live? But now he is dead, wherefore should I fast? can I bring him back again? I shall go to him, but he shall not return to me.
Страница 3 - Life is a jest, and all things show it, I thought so once, but now I know it, with what more you may think proper.
Страница 138 - Our life is but a Winter's day, Some only breakfast and away ; Others to dinner stay and are full fed, The oldest man but sups and goes to bed ; Large is his debt, who lingers out the day, Who goes the soonest has the least to. pay.

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