"Quaint epitaphs" (Google eBook)

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A. Mudge & son, printers, 1895 - Epitaphs - 45 pages
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Page 23 - THE BODY of BENJAMIN FRANKLIN, Printer, (like the cover of an old book, its contents torn out, and stript of its lettering and gilding) lies here food for worms ; yet the work itself shall not be lost, for it will (as he believed) appear once more in a new and more beautiful edition, corrected and amended by THE AUTHOR.
Page 37 - EPITAPH. ON THE COUNTESS OF PEMBROKE. UNDERNEATH this sable hearse Lies the subject of all verse, Sidney's sister, Pembroke's mother : Death, ere thou hast slain another, Fair, and learned, and good as she, Time shall throw a dart at thee.
Page 24 - How lov'd, how honour'd once, avails thee not, To whom related, or by whom begot ; A heap of dust alone remains of thee, 'Tis all thou art, and all the proud shall be ! Poets themselves must fall, like those they sung, Deaf the prais'd ear, and mute the tuneful tongue.
Page 15 - My sledge and hammer lie reclined, My bellows, too, have lost their wind; . My fire's extinct, my forge decayed, And in the dust my vice is laid. My coal is spent, my iron's gone, My nails are drove, my work is done ; My fire-dried corpse lies here at rest, And, smoke-like, soars up to be bless'd.
Page 38 - I've seen enough of thee And now am careless what thou say'st of me Thy smiles I court not nor thy frowns I fear My cares are past my head lies quiet here What faults you saw in me take care to shun And look at home enough there's to be done...
Page 41 - Here lies John Quebecca, precentor to My Lord the King. When he is admitted to the choir of angels, whose society he will embellish, and where he will distinguish himself by his powers of song, God shall say to the angels, " Cease, ye calves ! and let me hear John Quebecca, the precenior of My Lord the King...
Page 29 - Here lies Jane Smith, wife of Thomas Smith, marble cutter. This monument was erected by her husband as a tribute to her memory and a specimen of his work. Monuments of the same style 350 dollars." "They gave Wellington a glorious funeral. It took six men to carry the beer.
Page 4 - 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.
Page 3 - Here lies John Higley, whose father and mother were drowned in their passage from America. Had they both lived, they would have been buried here.(!) Here lies the body of John Mound, Lost at sea and never found.
Page 11 - When I am dead and in my Grave, and all my bones are rotton, I hope the Lord will think on me when I am quite forgotten.

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