Gleanings in Graveyards: A Collection of Curious Epitaphs

by Horatio Edward Norfolk

Berkshire.

BUCKLEBURY.

Here lyeth the body of Samuel Wightwicke, Esqre. 1662.

Heaven only knowes the Blisse his soul inioyes,
Whil’s wee on earth seeke after fading toyes,
And doe not mind how saints and angells singe
To see him thron’d with his eternall king.

WEST WOODHAY.

In the old church near Newbury, is the following epitaph to the memory of Sir Ben Rudyerd:—

John Grant, in memory of his deare and honoured Master Sir Benjamin Rudyerd, knight, hath affixed this stone over his grave with this epitaph made by Sir Benjamin in his younger years:—

Fond world, leave off this foolish trick
Of making epitaphs upon the dead;
Rather go write them on the quick,
Whose soules in earthly flesh lye buried.
For in this grave lyes nought of me
But my soules grave, two graves well turned to one.
Thus do I live, from death made free;
Trust me, good friend, I am not dead, but gone
To God and Christ, my Saviour alone.
1656.

OLD WINDSOR.

When this you see remember me
As I lay under ground,
The world say what it will of me,
Speak of me as you have found.

ALDWORTH.

There is a vulgar tradition that in this place four Johns were buried, and they are described as follows:—John Long, John Strong, John Ever-afraid, and John Never-afraid. They say that John Ever-afraid was afraid to be buried either in the church or out of it, and was consequently buried under the wall, where the arch appears on the outside, by the south church door.

The following is a copy of an epitaph, now almost obliterated, in Speen Churchyard, and which, admired for its simple pathos, has been handed to us for insertion:—

In memory of John Matthews, of Donnington, Berks,
1779.

When Heaven with equal eyes our quick’ning dust
Shall view, and judge the bad and praise the just,
His humble merits may perhaps find room
Where kings shall wish, but wish in vain to come.

In Sunning Hill Churchyard is the following epitaph on the late Right Hon. Colonel Richard Fitzpatrick, written by himself:—

Whose turn is next? This monitory stone
Replies, vain passenger perhaps thine own;
If idly curious, thou wilt seek to know
Whose relicks mingle with the dust below,
Enough to tell thee, that his destin’d span,
On earth he dwelt, and like thyself a man.
Nor distant far th’ inevitable day
When thou, poor mortal, shalt like him be clay;
Through life he walk’d un-emulous of fame,
Nor wish’d beyond it to preserve a name.
Content, if friendship, o’er his humble bier
Dropt but the heart-felt tribute of a tear;
Though countless ages should unconscious glide,
Nor learn that even he had lived and died.

NEWBURY.

On Eliz^th Daughter of James Bond, 1659.

Low, here she is, deprived of lyfe,
Which was a verteous and a loving wife;
Until the graves again restore
Their dead, and Time shall be no more;
She was brought a-bed, but spous above,
And dyed to pay the living pledge of love.

On Mr. Hugh Shepley, sometime Rector of Newbvrye, 1596.

Full eight and twenty years he was your pastor,
As hee was taught to feede by Christ, his Master;
By preaching God’s Word, good life, good example,
(Food for your soules, fitt for God’s house or temple)
Hee loved peace, abandoned all strife,
Was kinde to strangers, neighbours, children, wife;
A lambe-like man, borne on an Easter daye,
So liv’d, so dide, so liv’s again for aye;
As one Spring brought him to this world of sinne,
Another Spring the Heavens received him in.

In the Parish Church of Aldermaston is the following:—

To the precious memorie of four Virtuous Sisters,
daughters of Sir H. Forster, 1623.

Like borne, like new-borne, here like dead they lye,
Four virgin sisters, decked with pietie;
Beavtie and other graces, which commend
And make them all like blessed in their end.

CHADDLEWORTH.

To the memory of Mary, wife of Thomas Nelson, of this parish, who died 1618, beinge of the age of 30 years, and had issue 7 children.

If thou religious art that passest by
Stay and reade on; as thou art so was I:
If thou art blest with children, and dost crave
In God’s feare them trayned up to have
Reade on agayn, and to thyself thus tell
Here she doth lye that was my parallel;
Or art thou bounteous, hospitable, free,
Belov’d of all, and they beloved of thee;
Meeke, full of mercy, and soe truly good
As flesh can be, and spronge of gentle blood?
If thou art soe, to thine own dear selfe saye,
Who on her grave my monument did lay?
But if to these thou knowst thyselfe but chaffe,
Pass on thy waye, reade not my epitaphe.

Also Dorothy Nelson, wife of William Nelson, who died
1619, being of 86 years, and had issue 7 children.

It was not many years that made mee good,
Neither was it in the vigor of my blood;
For if soe then my goodness might have past,
And as I did, have ceast to be at laste.
But ’twas the grace my Maker did enshrine
In my meeke breast, which cleerely there did shine.
As my soul now amongst the chosen blest,
Under this stone although my bones doe rest.

PEWSEY.

Here lies the body
Lady O’Looney,
Great niece of Burke, commonly
called the Sublime.
She was
Bland, passionate, and deeply religious;
Also she painted in water colours,
And sent several pictures to the Exhibition.
She was first cousin to Lady Jones.
And of such is the kingdom of heaven.

ALLWORTH CHAPEL, WINDSOR.

Here lies a modell of frail man,
A tender infant, but a span
In age or stature. Here she must
Lengthen out both bedded in dust.
Nine moneths imprisoned in ye wombe,
Eight on earth’s surface free; ye tombe
Must now complete her diarie,
So leave her to aeternatie.

Buckinghamshire.

DATCHET.

epitaph on two sisters.

A tender mother, aunt, and friend,
They continued to their end.

HIGH WYCOMBE.

Death is a fisherman; the world we see
A fish-pond is, and we the fishes be;
He sometimes angles, like doth with us play,
And slily take us, one by one away.

IVER.

On William Hawkins.

Once at his death, and twice in wedlocke blest;
Thrice happy in his labour and his rest;
Espoused now to Christ, his head in life,
Being twice a husband, and in death a wife.

On a Lady.

Two happy days assigned are to men—
Of wedlocke and of death. O happy then,
’Mongst women was she who is here interred,
Who lived out two, and, dying, had a third.

On Richard Carter.

An honest man, a friend sincere,
What more can be said? He’s buried here.

FARNHAM.

A sudden death, a mind contented;
Living beloved, dead lamented.

WYCOMBE.

Here lies one, whose rest
Gives me a restless life;
Because I’ve lost a good
And virtous wyfe.