Oh! see how soon the flowers of life decay,
How soon terrestrial pleasures fade away.
This star of comfort for a moment given,
First came to rise on earth then set in Heaven.
Bispham Churchyard, Lancashire.
While yet of tender years and weak
Affliction bade her frame decline,
And legibly upon her cheek
Consumption mark'd, "The maid is mine."
But as she dropp'd into the grave,
Mercy her cordial draught had given,
And faith and hope their record gave,
And said, "The maid is mark'd for Heaven."
Alton Churchyard, Staffordshire.
To serve her Saviour was her only care,
And for His home her young heart to prepare ;
And now that Saviour in a voice of love,
Hath called her spirit to that home above.
Minnigaff Church, Kirkcudbright.
This sacred spot, bedewed by many a tear,
Tells of the loss of one to memory dear,
Who, while alive, a parent's love did share,
And, dying, felt a parent's tenderest care.
A parent's care, alas! that could not save
The drooping victim of an early grave,
Worn by disease, which human aid defied,
She sought a refuge in her God, and died.
Chelmerton Churchyard, Derbyshire.
Doomed to long-suffering from your earliest years,
Amidst your parents' grief and pain, alone
Cheerful and gay, you smiled to soothe their tears,
And, in their agonies, forgot your own.
Go, gentle spirit, and among the blest,
From grief and pain, eternal be thy rest.
Marquis of Wellesley.
Translation by himself of his Latin epitaph on
Lord Brougham's daughter, who died at
Cannes, 1839.
She was not born to feel the withering touch.
Of ruthless Time; and cankering care forebore
To write one line which told of slow decay.
The seeds of death are sown as birth confers
The breath of life; and Death, unseen, stood by,
Watching the floweret in its opening bud;
For ever watching, till perfection came,
Then gently tore it from its parent stem,
To bid it blossom in Eternity.
Early, bright, transient, chaste as morning dew,
She sparkled, was exhaled, and went to Heaven.
But hushed be every thought that springs
From out the bitterness of things;
Her quiet is secure.
No thorns can pierce her tender feet,
Whose life was like the violet sweet,
As climbing jasmine pure.
That she is safe with Him who hath the power
O ye mourners, cease to languish
O'er the grave of those ye love;
Pain and death, and night and anguish,
Enter not the world above.
While in darkness ye are straying,
Lonely in the deep'ning shade,
Glory's brightest beams are playing
Round the immortal spirit's head.
Easthampstead Churchyard, Berks.
Here, here she lies, a budding rose,
Blasted before its bloom,
Whose innocence did sweets disclose,
Beyond that flower's perfume.
To those who for her death are grieved
This consolation's given,
She's from the storms of life relieved,
To shine more bright in heaven.
Shenstone, in Hales-Owen Churchyard.
Her form, so fair and transient to our sight, Seemed a sweet vision from the realms of light ; Yet, the consoling hope to faith is given,
To find the vision realised in Heaven.
Like two young olives in some silvan scene,
Clad in the loveliest garb of summer green,
Were these two sisters, whose endearing love
Hath consummation gained in realms above.
Death's whirlwind came and swept the first away;
Drooping alone the other could not stay.
Eyam Churchyard, Derbyshire.
Oh! mark'd from birth, and nurtur'd for the skies!
In youth with more than learning's wisdom wise,
As sainted martyrs, patient to endure !
Simple as unwean'd infancy, and pure !
Pure from all stain (save that of human clay,
Which Christ's atoning blood hath wash'd away!)
By mortal suff'rings now no more oppress'd,
Mount, sinless spirit, to thy destined rest!
While I-reversed our nature's kindlier doom-
Pour forth a father's sorrows on thy tomb.
G. Canning, Wimbledon Churchyard, Surrey.
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