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

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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 285 - 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 : When they talk'd of their Raphaels, Correggios, and stuff, He shifted his trumpet,* and only took snuff.
Страница 203 - 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 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 233 - Berkshire, •This modest stone, what few vain marbles can, May truly say, Here lies an honest man : A poet, blest beyond the poet's fate, Whom Heaven kept sacred from the Proud and Great : Foe to loud praise, and friend to learned ease, Content with science in the vale of peace.
Страница 71 - EPITAPH ON AN INFANT. ERE Sin could blight or Sorrow fade, Death came with friendly care ; The opening bud to Heaven conveyed, And bade it blossom there.
Страница 237 - JLjO ! 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.
Страница 258 - 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 61 - HEAR what the voice from heaven proclaims, For all the pious dead, Sweet is the savour of their names, And soft their sleeping bed. 2 They die in Jesus and are bless'd ; How kind their slumbers are ! From sufferings and from sins released, And freed from every snare.
Страница 7 - Wide o'er this breathing world, a Garrick came. Though sunk in death the forms the Poet drew, The Actor's genius bade them breathe anew ; Though, like the bard himself, in night they lay, Immortal Garrick call'd them back to day : And till Eternity with power sublime Shall mark the mortal hour of hoary Time, Shakspeare and Garrick like twin stars shall shine, And earth irradiate with a beam divine." It would be an insult to my readers' understandings to attempt any thing like a criticism on this...

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