Upon the tomb of a boy who died of eating too much fruit, this quaint epitaph conveys a moral:
"Currants have check'd the current of my blood,
And berries brought me to be buried here;
Pears have par'd off my body's hardihood,
And plums and plumbers spare not one so spare.
Fain would I feign my fall; so fair a fare
Lessens not hate, yet 'tis a lesson good.
Gilt will not long hide guilt, such thin washed ware
Wears quickly, and its rude touch soon is rued.
Grave on my grave some sentence grave and terse,
That lies not as it lies upon my clay,
But in a gentle strain of unstrained verse,
Prays all to pity a poor patty's prey,
Rehearses I was fruitful to my hearse,
Tells that my days are told, and soon I'm toll'd away."
In Glasgow Cathedral is an epitaph, which is engraved on the lid of a very old sarcophagus, discovered in the crypt:
"Our Life's a flying Shadow, God's the Pole,
The Index pointing at him is our Soul,
Death's the Horizon, when our Sun is set,
Which will through Chryst a Resurrection get."
In a grave-yard at Montrose, in Scotland, this inscription may still be seen:
"Here lies the Body of
George Young
And of all his posterity for
fifty years backwards."
This brief announcement may be read in Wrexham church-yard, Wales:
"Here lies five babies and children dear
Three at Owestry and two here."
In a church-yard near London the following may be deciphered:
"Killed by an omnibus why not?
So quick a death a boon is
Let not his friends lament his lot
For mors omnibus communis."