CHURCH OF SAN SALVADOR, OVIEDO.. Ar the entrance of this church is a most remarkable tomb, erected by a prince named SILO, with a very curious Latin inscription, which may be read two hundred and seventy ways, beginning with the capital in the centre.
PECNIRPOLILO PRINCEP
SPEC NIR POL O PRINCEPS
FSPECNIRPO PRINCEPS F
EFS PEC NIR PRINCEPS FE
CEFS PECNIRINCEPS FE C
ICEF S PECN INCEPS FECI
TICE FS PE CN CEPS FECIT
On the tomb are inscribed these letters:
H. S. E. S. S. T. T. L.
Which are the initials of the following Latin words:
Hic situs est Silo, sit tibi terra levis.
"Here lies SILO-may the earth lay light upon him."
EQUAL, as age advanc'd, her virtues grew,
And Heaven, her aim, still nearer shone in view;
So great th' increase, at length, faith chang❜d to sight,
And the full prospect beam'd intensely bright;
Mortality oppress'd, no more could bear,
But sunk to rest, and sleeps in silence here.
HERE, fast asleep, upon his back,
By death extended, lies plump Jack,
A sleeper ne'er to be forgot,
Renown'd as Ch-
Oft has he slept (we've heard him snore)
Within these sacred walls before;
Yet, charm'd awhile by MORPHEUS' rod,
He soon shook off the feeble God,
And soon victorious 'gan to rise,
And yawn, and stare, and rub his eyes.
Now vanquish'd quite, behold him fall,
Attack'd by sleep, and death, and all.
Be serious Muse.-The day will come
When he, fresh rising from this tomb,
Shall life and other realms explore
And wake, to die, to sleep no more.
OF gentle blood, his parents only treasure,
Their lasting sorrow, and their vanish'd pleasure:
Adorn'd with features, virtue, wit, and grace,
A large provision for so short a race!
More mod' rate gifts might have prolong'd his date,
Too early fitted for a better state :
But knowing Heaven his home, to shun delay,
He leap'd o'er age, and took a shorter way.
By Ambrose Phillips..
WEEPING o'er thy sacred urn,
Ever shall the Muses mourn;
Sadly shall their numbers flow,
Ever elegant in woe.
Thousands, nobly born, shall die,
Thousands in oblivion lie;
Names which leave no track behind,
Like the clouds before the wind,
When the dusky shadows pass,
Lightly fleeting o'er the grass:
But, O Halifax! thy name
Shall through ages rise in fame;
Sweet remembra ce shalt thou find,
Sweet in every noble mind.
ST. MICHAEL'S, WOOD-STREET.
JOHN CASY, of this parish, whose dwelling was
In the north corner house as to Lad Lane you pass.
For better knowledge, the name it hath now,
It is call'd and known by the name of the Plow
Out of that house yeerely did geeve
Twentie shillings to the poore, their neede to releeve;
Which money the tenant must yeerelie pay
To the parson and churchwardens on St. Thomas day.
The heir of that house, Thomas Rowrman by name,
Hath since, by his deed, confirmed the same.
Whose love to the poore doth thereby appeare,
And after his death shall live many a yeere.
Therefore in your life do good while yee may,
That when meagre Death shall take you away,
Yee may live and like-famed as Casy and Bowerman,
For he that doth well, shall be never a poor man.
ST. JOHN'S, WESTMINSTER.
HERE lyeth Humphrey Gosling, of London, vintner,
Of the Whyt Hart, of this parish, a neighbour;
Of vertuous behaviour; a very good archer;
And of honest mirth, a good company keeper.
So well inclyned to poor and rich,
God send more Goslings to be sich.
He first departed; She for one day try'd
To live without him,-lik'd it not, and dy'd.
BODY. I, Mary Pawson, ly below slepying.
SOULE. I, Mary Pawson, sit above waking.
We hope to meete again with glory cloath'd, BOTH, {Then Mary Pawson be for ever blessed.
On **** Palmer, of Orford, Esquire, ****
Palmers all our faders were,
I, a Palmer, lived here,
And trauyl'd still, 'till worn wyth age,
I ended this world's pylgramage,
On the blyst assention day
In the cherful month of May;
A thousand wyth fowr hundryd seuen,
And took my jorney hense to Heuen.
ON A GRAVESTONE,
In the Ruins of an old Church, near Broughton-Green,
TIME was, I stood where thou dost now,
And view'd the dead as thou dost me;
Ere long thou'It lie as low as I,
And others stand and look on thee.
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