ON PEGGY IRVING.

Had restless time whose harvest is each hour,
But deign'd to pause and view this lovely flow'r,
In pity he'd have turn'd his scythe away,
And left it blooming till a future day;

But he, alas regardless levels all,

Both flow'rs and weeds alike promiscuous fall.

Our life is but a Winter's day,
Some only breakfast and away;

Others to dinner stay and are full fed,
The oldest man but sups and goes to bed;
Large is his debt, who lingers out the day,
Who goes
the soonest has the least to pay.

Could lettered stone, or monumental bust
Rekindle life, or animate the dust,

Oh! what high altars would a mother raise,
Toil would be rapture, labour would be praise!
But since the fix'd decree can change no more,
Nor prayers nor tears departed life restore;
Since vain the sculptor's and the poet's bays,
Accept, lamented shade, these simple lays;
Accept the tribute nature offers here,
A weeping mother hanging o'er thy bier;
Whose early promise, shrouded in the tomb,
Spreads o'er her soul more than sepulchral gloom.

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,
Who in his land was mickle of might ;
The Captain and Keeper of Carlisle was he,
And also the Lord of Corkebye ;
And now he lies under this stane,
He and his Lady dame Jane;
The eighteenth of Februere,
This gentle knight was buried here,
I pray you all that this do see,
Pray for their souls for charitie ;

For as they are now,-so must we all be.

Here lies that happy maiden, who often said
That no man is happy until he is dead,---
That the business of life is but playing the fool,,
Which hath no relation to saving the soul;
For all the transactions that's under the sun,
Is doing of nothing-if that be not done
All wisdom and knowledge does lie in this one!

Skelton church-yard.

ON TWO SAILORS.

Tho' Boreas' blasts, and Neptune's waves,
Have toss'd us to and fro;

In spite of both, by God's decree,
We anchor here below.

Tho' here we safe in harbour lie,
With many of our fleet;
We shall one day set sail again,
Our Admiral Christ to meet.

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,
Untill ye res'rection day.

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 Lord 1578.

Kirklinton church-yard.

ON MR. WILLIAM WATSON,

Of Newtown of Irthington,

AND HIS DAUGHTER JANE.

A loving husband and a friend sincere,
A tender father lies sepulchred here;
Who meekly liv'd, and at his parting breath,
Shew'd the true christian's triumph over death;
And, oh! what bosom would not wish to close,
With so much glory life's last scene of woes.

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,
And happy's their employ,
Who live to God, and die in Christ,
Their's shall be endless joy.