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
To the memory of GEORGE GRIFFITHS, of the Shropshire Militia, who died
Feb 26th, 1807, in consequence of a blow received in a quarrel with
his comrade.
Time flies away as nature on its wing,
I in a battle died (not for my King).
Words with my brother soldier did take place,
Which shameful is, and always brings disgrace.
Think not the worse of him who doth remain,
For he as well as I might have been slain.
We have also from Yarmouth the next example:--
To the memory of ISAAC SMITH, who died March 24th, 1808, and SAMUEL
BODGER, who died April 2nd, 1808, both of the Cambridgeshire Militia.
The tyrant Death did early us arrest,
And all the magazines of life possest:
No more the blood its circling course did run,
But in the veins like icicles it hung;
No more the hearts, now void of quickening heat,
The tuneful march of vital motion beat;
Stiffness did into every sinew climb,
And a short death crept cold through every limb.
The next example is from Bury St. Edmunds:--
WILLIAM MIDDLEDITCH,
Late Serjeant-Major of the Grenadier Guards,
Died Nov. 13, 1834, aged 53 years.
A husband, father, comrade, friend sincere,
A British soldier brave lies buried here.
In Spain and Flushing, and at Waterloo,
He fought to guard our country from the foe;
His comrades, Britons, who survive him, say
He acted nobly on that glorious day.
Edward Parr died in 1811, at the age of 38 years, and was buried at North
Scarle churchyard. His epitaph states:--
A soldier once I was, as you may see,
My King and Country claim no more from me.
In battle I receiv'd a dreadful ball
Severe the blow, and yet I did not fall.
When God commands, we all must die it's true
Farewell, dear Wife, Relations all, adieu.
A British soldier lies buried under the shadow of the fine old Minster of
Beverley. He died in 1855, and his epitaph states:--
A soldier lieth beneath the sod,
Who many a field of battle trod:
When glory call'd, his breast he bar'd,
And toil and want, and danger shar'd.
Like him through all thy duties go;
Waste not thy strength in useless woe,
Heave thou no sigh and shed no tear,
A British soldier slumbers here.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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