ON MISS ELIZA WELTSE,

Aged 15.

In beauty's bloom, adorn'd with ev'ry grace,
Here a meek virgin consecrates the place;
Ye fair approach, nor check the rising sigh,-
She once with all your rarest charms could vie.
Her parent's pride, now mourning o'er her bier,
In fond regret, they shed a heart-felt tear ;
They feel their loss, yet own the chast'ning rod,
And yield, in grief, their daughter to her God.

ON CLEMENTINA PEROCHON, Who died, 24th October, 1813; aged 64. In thee, affection breath'd her purest flame, In thee, the female mark'd her highest fame; To thee, the wretched would her cause submit, Thy thoughts were those an angel might admit. Goodness was thine, the pleasure of thy life, Best lov❜d Clementina, much lamented wife ; Soon shall the time prescrib'd by time unite Two souls in one, in realms of endless light.

ON MR. PAUL W. PERKINS,
Aged 22 years.

Here in awful stillness of the tomb,

Rests a lov'd youth, that perish'd in his bloom, Belov'd and mourn'd, no art could save,

The will of Heav'n appoints this early grave.

ON JOHN SKRYMSHER,

Son of

The Rev. ROGER SKRYMSHER,

Vicar of Maldon,

SURREY.

Whilst vain philosophy declares
Both soul and body die,

The humble Christian views his child,
Translated to the sky.

Behold him with the eye of faith,
Ascend the blest abode ;
With kindred cherubs to enjoy,
The presence of his God.

ON MR. EDWARD BRIERS,

Aged 65.

Why spring those tears, what avail those sighs,
No heart here feels them, and no tongue replies;
At death, our cares and fears, and passions cease,
His silent mansion is the abode of peace.
Yet to a much-lov'd husband, father, friend,
Let memory cling, and near his image tend;
Retrace his steps, behold his virtues rise,
In brightest form, to fix our darksome eyes ;
Till led by faith, our course of trial o'er,
We meet in endless bliss, to part no more.

Kensington church-yard.

TO THE MEMORY OF

JOHN BRIAN, ESQ.

Formerly Captain, Adjutant, and Pay-master,

In the 6th, (or Enniskilling) Regiment of Dragoons;

Died, January 5, 1812;

Aged 67.

Those that knew him best will appreciate his worth, if he had any, and his God will judge him, not according to his demerits, but according

to the extent of his mercy, his
goodness and glory.

But tho' we know not the extent of our Creator's plan,
Or his intentions towards his creature man ;
We may, if judging from his works, conclude
All things will end in universal good.

P

ON MARY COUTS,

Aged 60.

In this cold grave, poor Mary lies,

Died of a broken heart;

God, who took her husband dear from her,
Left none to take her part.

She married one, not lov'd so well,
Which caus'd her many a tear;

She's gone to Heav'n, in hopes to meet
Her dearest partner there.

Fulham church-yard.

ON MARIANNE BOWDEN,

An Infant.

Too meet for Heav'n, to tarry longer here,
Too pure a tenant for a world unblest;
Thy happier spirit, to a purer sphere

Hath soar'd on dove-like wings, and is at rest.

Forgive the tear that mourns thy early tomb, The tear that glistens in affection's eye; When faith should rather hail thy blissful doom, And trace the passage to thy kindred sky.

IN MEMORY OF

ELEANOR,

Daughter of John Simpson, Esq. of Bradley,

In the County of Durham;

And Widow of

JOHN ORD, Esq.

Who died, 21st February, 1818;

Aged 76.

She's gone-and ne'er was laid in kindred dust
A heart more kind, compassionate, and just;
In all the righteous movements of her breast,
Her Saviour's words, were first, and last, and best.
She plac'd her trust in her God alone,

Liv'd without guile, and died without a groan;
Thro' length of days from earthly dross refin'd,
On thoughts divine, was fix'd her saint-like mind;
And as a full form'd babe exerts its might
To rush to life, to liberty and light;

So her bright soul, too good, too pure for earth,
Burst its frail bonds, and sprung to Heav'nly birth,
To meet her long lov'd consort in the sky;
She left a sister here, awhile to sigh,
And feebly tell on this recording stone,
How just the general grief, how deep her own.