Curious Epitaphs, Collected from the Graveyards of Great Britain and Ireland.Andrews, William
General
Curious Epitaphs, Collected from the Graveyards of Great Britain and Ireland.
Andrews, William
Epitaphs -- Great Britain
Stop, passenger, and thy attention fix on,
That true-born, honest, fox-hunter, GEORGE DIXON,
Who, after eighty years' unwearied chase,
Now rests his bones within this hallow'd place.
A gentle tribute of applause bestow,
And give him, as you pass, one _tally-ho_!
Early to cover, brisk he rode each morn,
In hopes the _brush_ his temple might adorn;
The view is now no more, the chase is past,
And to an earth, poor GEORGE is run at last.
On a stone in the graveyard of Mottram the following inscription
appears:--
In the memory of GEORGE NEWTON,
of Stalybridge,
who died August 7th, 1871,
in the 94th year of his age.
Though he liv'd long, the old man has gone at last,
No more he'll hear the huntsman's stirring blast;
Though fleet as Reynard in his youthful prime,
At last he's yielded to the hand of Time.
Blithe as a lark, dress'd in his coat of green,
With hounds and horn the old man was seen.
But ah! Death came, worn out and full of years,
He died in peace, mourn'd by his offsprings' tears.
"Let us run with patience the race that is set before us."
In the churchyard of Ecclesfield, may be read the following epitaph:--
In memory of THOMAS RIDGE,
the Ecclesfield huntsman,
who died 13th day of January, 1871,
Aged 77 years.
Though fond of sport, devoted of the chase,
And with his fellow-hunters first in place,
He always kept the Lord's appointed day,
Never from church or Sunday-school away.
And now his body rests beneath the sod,
His soul relying in the love of God.
Of the many epitaphs on sportsmen to be seen in Nottinghamshire, we cull a
few of the choicest. Our first is a literal copy from a weather-worn stone
in Eakring churchyard, placed to the memory of Henry Cartwright, senior
keeper to his Grace the Duke of Kingston for fifty-five years, who died
February 13th, 1773, aged eighty years, ten months, and three weeks:--
My gun discharged, my ball is gone
My powder's spent, my work is done,
those panting deer I have left behind,
May now have time to Gain their wind,
Who I have oft times Chass'd them ore
the burial Plains, but now no more.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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