ON PEGGY IRVING. Had restless time whose harvest is each hour, Both flow'rs and weeds alike promiscuous fall. Our life is but a Winter's day, Could lettered stone, or monumental bust Oh! what high altars would a mother raise, In Wetheral church. Between the north aisle and the chancel, are the effigies of a man and woman, with the following legend in old characters almost obliterated. Here lies Sir Richard Salkeld, that knight, And now he lies under this stane, Pray for their souls fo. charitie; For as they are now,-so must we all be. Here lies that happy maiden, who often said Skelton church-yard. ON TWO SAILORS. Tho' Boreas' blasts, and Neptune's waves, In spite of both, by God's decree, We anchor here below. Tho' here we safe in harbour lie, A flat stone in this Church-yard, marks where a dutiful son deposited the remains of his mother.-Being a frugal husbandman, he would not employ a stonecutter, but with a tooth of harrow made this inscription : Here lys the body of AN KAY, Hush! ye fond flutterings, hush! while here alone, I search the records of each mouldering stone. Ponsonby Church. The following Inscription, engraven upon a copperplate, was found affixed to a tomb stone, within this parish Church of Ponsonby. HERE LYETH THE BODY OF FRANCES PATRYCKSON, Daughter of Sir Thomas Wyat, Knight, One of the most Honorable Pryve Councell to King HENERYE VIII. Sometime wyfe of THOMAS LIGHT, of Calder, And at the day of her death wyfe of William Patryckson, gentleman. God gave this wyfe a mynde to praye, in grones and pangs of deth, And to Heav'n elevaytinge hands and eyes smylinglie, to yeld breth : And thus at age of LVI. to grave she took her waye, God grant that she, and we may meet in joy at the last daye. She dyed the XVI of Julii, in the yere of our Kirklinton church-yard. ON MR. WILLIAM WATSON, Of Newtown of Irthington, AND HIS DAUGHTER JANE. A loving husband and a friend sincere, The daughter too our warmest praise shall claim, If virtue's blossoms can adorn a name ; In the sweet grace of modesty attir'd, She bloom'd, perform'd her duties, and expir'd! T. SANDERSON. On an old stone defaced. Man's life to labour is ordain'd, |