The boisterous main I've travers'd o'er,
New seas and lands explored,
But now at last, I'm anchor'd fast,
In peace and silence moor'd.
In the churchyard, Selby, near the north porch, in memory of WILLIAM
WHITTAKER, mariner, who died 22nd Oct., 1797, we read--
Oft time in danger have I been
Upon the raging main,
But here in harbour safe at rest
Free from all human pain.
South-hill Church, Bedfordshire, contains a plain monument to the memory
of Admiral BYNG, who was shot at Portsmouth:--
To the perpetual disgrace of public justice,
The Honourable JOHN BYNG, Vice Admiral of the Blue,
fell a martyr to political persecution, March 14,
in the year 1757;
when bravery and loyalty were insufficent securities for
the life and honour of a naval officer.
The following epitaph, inscribed on a stone in Putney Churchyard, is
nearly obliterated:--
Lieut ALEX. DAVIDSON
Royal Navy has Caus'd this Stone
to be Erected to the Memory of
HARRIOT his dearly beloved Wife
who departed this Life Jan 24 1808
Aged 38 Years.
I have crossed this Earth's Equator Just sixteen times
And in my Country's cause have brav'd far distant climes
In HOWE'S TRAFALGAR and several Victories more
Firm and unmov'd I heard the Fatal Cannons roar
Trampling in human blood I felt not any fear
Nor for my Slaughter'd gallant Messmates shed A tear
But of A dear Wife by Death unhappily beguil'd
Even the British Sailor must become A child
Yet when from this Earth God shall my soul unfetter
I hope we'll meet in Another World and a better.
Some time ago a correspondent to the _Spectator_ stated: "As you are not
one to despise 'unconsidered trifles' when they have merit, perhaps you
will find room for the following epitaph, on a Deal Boatman, which I
copied the other day from a tombstone in a churchyard in that town:--
In Memory of GEORGE PHILLPOT,
Who died March 22nd, 1850, aged 74 years.
Full many a life he saved
With his undaunted crew;
_He put his trust in Providence_,
AND CARED NOT HOW IT BLEW.
A hero; his heroic life and deeds, and the philosophy of religion, perfect
both in theory and practice, which inspired them, all described in four
lines of graphic and spirited verse! Would not 'rare Ben' himself have
acknowledged this a good specimen of 'what verse can say in a little?'
Whoever wrote it was a poet 'with the name.'"
"There is another in the same churchyard, which though weak after the
above, and indeed not uncommon, I fancy, in seaside towns, is at least
sufficiently quaint:--
In Memory of JAMES EPPS BUTTRESS, who, in rendering assistance to the
French Schooner, "Vesuvienne," was drowned, December 27th, 1852, aged
39.
Though Boreas' blast and Neptune's wave
Did toss me to and fro,
In spite of both, by God's decree,
I harbour here below;
And here I do at anchor ride
With many of our fleet,
Yet once again I must set sail,
Our Admiral, Christ, to meet.
Also two sons, who died in infancy, &c.
The 'human race' typified by '_our fleet_,' excites vague reminiscences of
Goethe and Carlyle, and 'our Admiral Christ' seems not remotely associated
in sentiment with the 'We fight that fight for our fair father Christ,'
and 'The King will follow Christ and we the King,' of our grand poet. So
do the highest and the lowest meet. But the heartiness, the vitality, nay,
almost vivacity, of some of these underground tenantry is surprising.
There is more life in some of our dead folk than in many a living crowd."