I am not dead, but sleepeth here, And when the trumpet sound I will appear. Four balls through me pierced their way, Hard it was, I had no time to pray. The stone that here you do see My comrades erected for the sake of me.
Acrostic Epitaph on Robert Porter, a noted miser.
R iches and wealth I now despise, O nce the delight of heart and eyes; B ut since I’ve known the vile deceit, E nvy has met its own defeat. R egardless of such empty toys, T ell all to seek for heavenly joys. P ull’d down by age and anxious cares, O ppressed am I by dismal fears, R elating to my future state, T o know what then will be my fate. E ternal God! to Thee I pray R emove these fearful doubts away.
Here lieth one, believe it if you can, Who tho’ an attorney was an honest man, The gates of heaven shall open wide, But will be shut against all the tribe beside.
My grandfather was buried here, My cousin Jane, and two uncles dear; My father perished with a mortification in his thighs, My sister dropped down dead in the Minories. But the reason why I am here, according to my thinking, Is owing to my good living and hard drinking, Therefore good Christians, if you’d wish to live long, Beware of drinking brandy, gin, or anything strong.
When on this spot, affection’s down-cast eye The lucid tribute shall no more bestow; When Friendship’s breast no more shall heave a sigh, In kind remembrance of the dust below;
Should the rude Sexton, digging near this tomb, A place of rest for others to prepare, The vault beneath, to violate, presume, May some opposing Christian cry, “Forbear—
“Forbear, rash mortal, as thou hop’st to rest, When death shall lodge thee in thy destin’d bed, With ruthless spade, unkindly to molest The peaceful slumbers of the kindred dead!”
“Sacred to the memory of THOMAS JACKSON, Comedian, who was engaged December 21st, 1741, to play a comic cast of characters in this great theatre, the world, for many of which he was prompted by nature to excel—The season being ended—his benefit over—the charges all paid, and his account closed, he made his exit in the tragedy of Death, on the 17th of March, 1798, in full assurance of being called once more to rehearsal, and where he hopes to find his forfeits all cleared, his cast of parts bettered, and his situation made agreeable by Him who paid the great stock debt, for the love He bore to performers in general.”