Cheshire.
Copied from the tombstone of Mr. Samuel Johnson, commonly called Maggoty Johnson, who was interred in a plantation or wood, belonging to the Earl of Harrington, in Gawsworth, near Macclesfield, Cheshire.
Under this stone
Rest the remains of Mr. Samuel Johnson, afterwards ennobled with the grander title of Lord Flame. Who, after having been in his life distinct from other men by the eccentricities of his genius, chose to retain the same character after his death, and was, at his own desire, buried here, May 5th, 1773, aged 82 yrs.
Stay thou, whom chance directs, or ease persuades
To seek the quiet of these Sylvan shades;
Here, undisturb’d and hid from vulgar eyes,
A Wit, Musician, Poet, player lies;
A dancing master, too, in grace he shone,
And all the acts of Opera were his own;
In comedy well skill’d he drew Lord Flame,
Acted the part and gained himself the name.
Averse to strife, how oft he’d gravely say
These peaceful groves should shade his breathless clay;
That, when he rose again, laid here alone,
No friend and he should quarrel for a bone;
Thinking, that were some old lame Gossip nigh,
She possibly might take his leg or thigh.
PRESBURY.
Beneath this stône lyes Edward Green,
Who for cutting stône famous was seên.
But he was sênt to apprehend
One Joesph Clarke, of Kerredge End,
For stêaling Deer of Squire Dounes,
Where he was shôt, and died o’th wounds.
DAVENHAM.
On David Berkenhead.
A tailor by profession,
And in the practice, a plain and honest man.
He was a useful member of society;
For, though he picked holes in no man’s coat,
He was ever ready to repair
The mischief that others did.
And whatever breaches broke out in families,
He was the man to mend all,
And make matters up again.
He lived and died respected.
Forty years’ service in Lord Penryhn’s family, induced Lady Penryhn to bestow this stone to his memory.
CHESTER.
On an Old Woman who sold Pots.
Beneath this stone lies Cath’rine Gray,
Changed to a lifeless lump of clay.
By earth and clay she got her pelf,
Yet now she’s turn’d to Earth herself.
Ye weeping friends, let me advise,
Abate your grief, and dry your eyes.
For what avails a flood of tears?
Who knows, but in a run of years,
In some tall pitcher or broad pan,
She in her shop may be again?
CHESTER.
Periwinks! Periwinkle! was ever her cry,
She laboured to live Poor and honest to die;
At the last day Again how her old Eyes will twinkle,
For no more will she cry, Periwinks! Periwinkle!
Ye Rich, to Virtue’s want rejoicing give,
Ye Poor, by her Example learn to live.
On a Sexton.
Hurra! my brave Boys, let’s rejoice at his fall,
For if he had lived he had Buried us all.
WESTON.
On a Parish Church.
There lies entomb’d within this vault so dark,
A Tailor, cloth draw’r, soldier, and a clerk.
Death snatch’d him hence, and also from him took
His needle, thimble, sword, and prayer book.
He could not work nor fight, what then?
He left the world, and faintly cry’d—Amen.
ST. JOHN’S CHURCH, CHESTER.
On a swift-footed Man.
Here lies the swift racer; so fam’d for his running,
In spite of his boasting, his swiftness and cunning,
In leaping o’er hedges, and skipping o’er fields,
Death soon overtook him, and tript up his heels.
GAWSWORTH.
Reader, take notice,
That on ye 12 Feby 1760,
Tho: Corbishley,
A brave veteran Dragoon
Here went into his quarters.
But remember that when
The trumpet calls
He’ll out and march again.