By playful smiles, (alas! too oft A sad heart's sunshine, by a soft And gentle nature, and a free Yet modest hand of charity, Through life was Owen Lloyd endeared To young and old; and how revered...
Jacobus Craggs Regi Magnae Britannia A Secretis Et Consiliis Sanctioribus, Principis Pariter Ac Populi Amor Et Deliciae: Vixit Titulis Et Invidia Major Annos, Heu Paucos, Xxxv. Ob. Feb. Xvi. Mdccxx. ...
On every nose he rightly read What intellects were in the head And yet that he was not the one By whom God meant it to be done, This on his own he never read.
A poor old soldier shall not lie unknown, Without a verse, and this recording stone. 'Twas his in youth o'er distant lands to stray, Danger and death companions of his way....
Thy prayer was 'Light-more Light-while Time shall last!' Thou rawest a glory growing on the night, But not the shadows which that light would cast, Till shadows vanish in the Light of Light.
Oh! they shall ne'er forget thee, they who knew Thy soul benevolent, sincere, and true; The poor thy kindness cheered, thy bounty fed, Whom age left shivering in its dreariest shed;...
Lay down thy pilgrim staff upon this heap, And till the morning of redemption sleep, Old wayfarer of earth! From youth to age, Long, but not weary, was thy pilgrimage,...
Tears flow, and cease not, where the good man lies, Till all who knew him follow to the skies. Tears therefore fall where Chester's ashes sleep; Him wife, friends, brothers, children, servants weep'...
Weep with me, all you that read This little story; And know for whom a tear you shed, Death's self is sorry. 'Twas a child that so did thrive In grace and feature,...
Underneath this sable herse Lies the subject of all verse: Sidney's sister, Pembroke's mother: Death, ere thou hast slain another, Fair and learn'd, and good as she, Time shall throw a dart at thee....
No trust to metals nor to marbles, when These have their fate and wear away as men; Times, titles, trophies may be lost and spent, But virtue rears the eternal monument....
This Little, Silent, Gloomy Monument, Contains all that was sweet and innocent ; The softest pratler that e'er found a Tongue, His Voice was Musick and his Words a Song ;...
Weep not, beloved Friends! nor let the air For me with sighs be troubled. Not from life Have I been taken; this is genuine life And this alone, the life which now I live...
Pause, courteous Spirit! Balbi supplicates That Thou, with no reluctant voice, for him Here laid in mortal darkness, wouldst prefer A prayer to the Redeemer of the world....
Weep not, beloved Friends! nor let the air For me with sighs be troubled. Not from life Have I been taken; this is genuine life And this alone the life which now I live...
Here rests a woman, good without pretence, Blest with plain reason, and with sober sense: No conquests she, but o'er herself, desired, No arts essay'd, but not to be admired....