Famous_Literary_and_Historical_Epitaphs

The epitaphs of various famous individuals associated with English_history, literature, art, and dramatic performance. Some are found on the grave-markers of tombs of writers, poets, and playwrights. Others were written by famous literary or historical figures for a lost family member. A few other epitaphs are fairly famous because of their clever wit, and they are quite artistic regardless of the relative anonymity of the deceased. The tone varies in each. Some are tragic, some humorous, some devout, and some sublime, but they are all uniquely human in sentiment. Many of them use spelling, capitalization, anagrams, and puns for artistic effect. They are listed roughly chronologically by date of death, starting in the medieval period, moving up to the Renaissance, then the Enlightenment, the Nineteenth Century, and finally the Twentieth Century.



King_Alfred_the_Great
~> (849-899, ruler of Britain, founder of British navy, and translator of Boethius,
monument erected in 19th century)

The mildest, justest, and most most beneficent of Kings,
Who drove out the Danes, scour'd the Seas, promoted learning
Established Juries, crush'd Corruption,
Guarded Liberty,
And was the Founder of the English Constitution.

Rosamond_Clifford (died 1177)
[Mistress of King Henry II]
In this tomb lies Rosamund,
the Rose of all the world,
the fair, but not the pure.

John_the_Smith (died 1371)
~>St. Bartholomew, Brightwell Baldwin
[Believed to be the earliest inscription in English]
man com & se how schal alle ded li∂ wen yolk comes bad & bare
noth have ben ve away fare: All ys wermes y ve fore care:
bot y ve do for god ys luf ve haue nothyng yare: hundyr
 graue lys John ∂e smyth god 3if his soule hewn grit

Edward_and_Mabel_Courtenay
(died 1419 of plague)
What wee gave, wee have;
What wee spent, wee had;
What we left, we lost.

Edmond_Spenser (1510-1596)
Here lyes
(expecting the second Comminge of our Saviour Christ Jesus)
the body of Edmond Spenser, the Prince of Poets in his time;
whose divine spirit needs no other witness
than the works he left behind him.

 The_Seven-Year-Old Son of #Ben_Jonson (16th century)
Farewell, thou child of my right hand and joy;
My sin was too much hope of thee, lov'd boy,
Seven years thou wert lent to me and I thee pay
Exacted by thy fate on the just day.
O, could I lose all father, now. For why
Will man lament the state he should envy?
To have so soon scap'd World's and flesh's rage,
And, if no other misery, yet age?
Rest in soft peace and ask'd say here doth lie
Ben Jonson his best piece of poetrie.
For whose sake, henceforth, all his vows be such
As what he loves may never live too much.

William_Shakespeare (1564-1616)
~> [Gravestone in Holy Trinity Church, Stratford-upon-Avon]
GOOD FREND FOR IESVS SAKE FORBEARE
TO DIGG THE DVST ENCLOASED HEARE
BLESTE BE Y MAN Y SPARES THES STONES
AND CVRST BE HE 跋AT] MOVES MY BONES

[Monument to Shakespeare in Poet's Corner, Westminster Abbey:]

The Cloud capt Tow'rs,
The Gorgeous Palaces,
The solemn Temples,
The Great Globe itself,
Yea, all which it Inherit,
Shall Dissolve,
And like the baseless Fabrick of a Vision
Leave not a wreck behind.
The Tempest (IV.i.152)

Sir Walter Raleigh (1552-1618)
~> Within the chancel of this church was interred
the body of the
Great Sir Walter Raleigh K[night]t
On the day he was beheaded
In Old Palace Yard, Westminster
Oct 29th, Anno Dom. 1618
READER--Should you reflect on his errors
Remember his many virtues
And that he was mortal
[Written in his cell the night before his execution:]
Even such is time that takes in trust
Our youth, our joys, and all we have,
And pays us but with age and dust:
Who in the dark and silent grave
When we have wandered all our ways
Shuts up the story of our days.
And from which earth and grave and dust
The Lord shall raise me up, I trust.

John_Donne (1572-1631)
Reader, I am to let thee know,
Donne's body only lies below;
For could the grave his soul comprise,
Earth would be richer than the skies.
Ben Jonson
(1573-1637)
O rare
Ben Jonson

James_Andrewe (died 1638)
JAMES ANDREWE
~> [This epitaph is an anagram]
Reede I was man.
A Maid of Queen Elizabeth (early 17th century)
Here lies, the Lord have mercy upon her,
One of her Majesty's maids of honour:
She was both young, slender, and pretty,
She died a maid, the more the pity.
Sir William Dyer (died 1641)
My dearest dust, could not thy hasty day
Afford thy drowsy patience leave to stay
One hour longer: so that we might either
Sit up or go to bed together?
But since thy finished labour hath possessed
Thy weary limbs with early rest,
Enjoy it sweetly: and thy widow bride
Shall soon repose her by thy slumbering side.
Whose business, now, is only to prepare
My nightly dress and call to prayer:
Mine eyes wax heavy and the day grows cold.
Draw, draw the closed curtains: and make room:
My dear, my dearest dust; I come, I come.

Elizabeth_Pepys (1640-1669)
~> Wife of Samuel Pepys (who serves the Royal Navy).
She was educated first in a convent, and then in a seminary of France.
She was distinguished by the excellence of both at once,
Gifted with beauty, accomplishments, tongues,
She bore no offspring, for she could not have borne her life.
At length when she had bidden this world a gentle farewell,
(After a journey completed through, we may say, the lovelier sights of Europe) --
A returning pilgrim, she took her departure to wander through a grander world.
Andrew Marvell
Near unto this place lyeth the body of Andrew Marvell Esquire
a man so endowed by nature,
so improved by education, study, & travel,
so consummated by practice & experience;
that joining the most peculiar graces of wit & learning
with singular penetration & strength of judgement
& exercising all these in the whole course of his life,
with an unalterable steadiness in the ways of virtue,
he became the ornament and example of his age;
beloved by good men, feared by bad, admir'd by all,
though imitated alas by few
& scarce fully paralleled by any,
but a tombstone can neither contain his character,
nor is marble necessary to transmit it to posterity,
it will always be legible in his inimitable writings,
he served the town of Kingston upon Hull above 20 years
successively in Parliament & that,
with such wisdom, dexterity, integrity
and courage as becomes a true patriot

Samuel_Butler(1612-1680)
~> Sacred to the memory of SAMUEL BUTLER

Who was born at Strensham, in Worcestershire, 1612 and died in London, 1680; a man of uncommon wit and probity: as admirable for the product of his genius, as unhappy in the rewards of them. His satire, exposing the hypocrisy and wickedness of the rebels, is such an inimitable piece, that as he was the first, he may be said to be the last writer in this peculiar manner. That he, who, when living, wanted almost everything, might not, after death, any longer want so much as a tomb, JOHN BARBER, citizen of London, erected this monument in 1721.


Mrs_Aphra_Behn (1640-89)
~> Here lies a Proof that Wit can never be
Defence enough against Mortality.
Henry Page (1648-1719)
Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary, Harlton
All you Good People
that here pass by
as you are now so
once was I, as I am
now so Shall you be
therefore Prepare
to Follow me.
Sir Christopher Wren (1632-1723)
St. Paul's Cathedral
Si monumentum requiris circumspice
[If you require a monument, look around.]

Alexander Pope (1688-1744)
~>> For one who would not be buried in Westminster Abbey:
Heroes and Kings! your distance keep;
In peace let one poor Poet sleep,
Who never flatter'd Folks like you:
Let Horace blush, and Virgil too.

 Jonathan_Swift (1667-1745)
~> [translated from Latin]
Here lies the body of Jonathan Swift, Professor of Holy Theology,
Dean of this cathedral church,
where fierce indignation can lacerate his heart no longer.
Go, traveller,
and, if you can, imitate one who with his utmost strength protected liberty.

#Thomas_Gray (1716-1771)
~> This Monument, in honour of
Thomas Gray
Was erected AD 1799
Among the scenery
Celebrated by that great Lyric and Elegaic Poet.
He died in 1771
And lies unnoticed in the adjoining Churchyard;
Under the tombstone
On which he piously and pathetically
Recorded the interment
Of his Aunt and lamented Mother.

#David_Hume  (1711-1776)
~> Within this circular idea
Called vulgarly a tomb,
The ideas and impressions lie
That constituted Hume
Robert Burns (1759-96)
The poetic genius of my country found me at the plough and threw her inspiring mantle over me.
She bade me sing the loves, the joys, the rural scenes and rural pleasures of my native soil, in my native tongue.
I tuned my wild, artless notes as she inspired.

#Samuel_Johnson (1709-84)
~> Under this Stone
rest the Remains of Samuel Johnson,
afterwards ennobled with the grander title of Lord Flame.
Who, after having been in his Life distinct from other men,
By the eccentricities of his Genius,
chose to retain the same Character after his death.
And was on his own desire buried here May 5th.
Stay thou whom chance or ease persuades to seek the quiet of these sylvan shades.
here undisturbed hid from vulgar eyes, a wit, musician, poet, player lies.
A dancing master too in grace he shone, and all the arts of opera were his own.
In comedy well skilled, he drew Lord Flame; acted the part and gained himself the name.

Averse to strife how oft he'd gravely say, these peaceful groves should shade his breathless day.
That when he rose again laid here alone, no friend and he should quarrel for a bone.
Thinking that were some old lame gossip nigh, she possibly might take his leg or thigh.

#Benjamin_Franklin (1706-90)
~> The body of
B. Franklin,
Printer,
Like the cover of an old book
its contents torn out,
and stripped of its lettering and gilding,
lies here, food for worms.
But the work shall not be wholly lost,
for it will, as he believed, appear once more,
in a new and more perfect edition,
corrected and amended
by the Author.

#Boatswain (1803-1808)
~> Dog of Lord Byron
Near this spot
are deposited the remains of one
who possessed Beauty without Vanity,
Strength without Insolence,
Courage without Ferocity,
and all the Virtues of Man without his Vices.
This praise, which would be unmeaning Flattery,
if inscribed over human Ashes,
is but a just Tribute to the memory of
Boatswain, a DOG
who was born in Newfoundland, May 1803,
and died at Newstead, Nov 18, 1808.

#John_Keats (1795-1821)
~> This Grave
contains all that was Mortal
of a
YOUNG ENGLISH POET
Who
on his Death Bed,
In the Bitterness of his Heart
at the Malicious Power of his enemies, desired
these Words to be engraved on his Tomb Stone:
"Here lies One
Whose name was writ in Water."

#Percy_Bysshe_Shelley (1792-1822)
~> COR CORDIUM
"Nothing of him that doth fade
But doth suffer a sea-change
Into something rich and strange."
[quotation from Shakespeare's The Tempest]

#George_Gordon, #Lord_Byron (1788-1824)
~>He died at Missolonghi, in Western Greece, on the 19th April, 1824,
Engaged in the glorious attempt to restore that country to her ancient freedom and renown.
His sister, the Honourable Augusta Maria Leigh, placed this tablet to his memory.

#Robert_Southey
~>Beneath these poppies buried deep,
The bones of Bob the bard lie hid;
Peace to his manes; and may he sleep
As soundly as his readers did!

Through every sort of verse meandering,
Bob went without a hitch or fall,
Through epic, Sapphic, Alexandrine,
To verse that was no verse at all.

Till fiction having done enough,
To make a bard at least absurd,
And give his readers quantum stuff,
He took to praising George the Third,

And now in virtue of his crown,
Dooms us, poor whigs, at once to slaughter;
Like donellan of bad renown,
Poisoning us all with laurel water.

And yet at times some awful qualms he
Felt about leaving honour's track;
And though he's got a butt of Malmsey,
It may not save him from a sack.

Death weary of so dull a writer,
Put all his books a finis thus.
Oh! may the earth on him lie lighter
Than did his quartos upon us.
Peter Robinson (19th century)
Here lies the preacher, judge, and poet, Peter
Who broke the laws of God, and man, and metre.

#Harriet_Stuart_Mill (died 1858)
~> Wife of John Stuart Mill
"Were there but a few hearts and intellects like hers this earth would already become the hoped-for heaven."

Mr. #Partridge (died 1861)
~> What! Kill a partridge in the month of May!
Was that done like a sportsman? eh, death, eh?

#James_Henry_Leigh_Hunt (1784-1859)

~> "Write me as one

That loves his fellow men."

 #Edward_George_Lytton (1803-1873)
~> Laborious and distinguished in all fields of intellectual activity
indefatigable and ardent in the cultivation and love of letters
his genius as an author was displayed in the most varied forms
which have connected indissolubly
with every department of the literature of his time
the name of Edward Bulwer-Lytton.

#GeorgeEliot
~> [pseudonym of Mary Ann Evans]
"Of those immortal dead who live again
In minds made better by their presence"
Here lies the body of "George Eliot"
Mary Ann Cross

#Olivia_Susan_Clemens (1866-1890)
[Daughter of Mark Twain]
~> Warm summer sun, shine kindly here;
Warm southern wind, blow softly here;
Green sod above, lie light, lie light --
Good-night, dear heart, good-night, good-night.

Sir Richard Burton (1821-1890,
~>> Orientalist, adventurer, and translator of The Arabian Nights)
Farewell, dear Friend, dead Hero!
The great life
is ended, the great perils, the great joys;
And he to whom adventures were as toys,
who seemed to bear a charm 'gainst spear or knife
or bullet, now lies silent from all strife
out yonder where the Austrian eagles poise
on Istrian hills, but England, at the noise
of that dread fall, weeps with the hero's wife.
Oh, last and noblest of the errant knights,
The English soldier and the Arab sheik!
Oh, singer of the East, who loved so well
The deathless wonder of the "Arabian Nights,"
Who touched Camoen's lute and still would seek
Ever new deeds until the end! Farewell!

#Robert Louis Stevenson(1850-94)
~>> from his poem, "Requiem," 1887
Under the wide and starry sky
Dig the grave and let me lie.
Glad did I live and gladly die,
And I laid me down with a will.

This be the verse you grave for me:
Here he lies where he longed to be;
Home is the sailor, home from the sea
And the hunter from the hill.
Oscar Wilde (1854-1900)
Pere Lachaise Cemetery, Paris
[from "The Ballad of Reading Gaol."]
And alien tears will fill for him
Pity's long broken urn,
For his mourners will be outcast men,
And outcasts always mourn.

#William Butler Yeats (1865-1939)
~>> Cast a cold eye
On life, on death
Horseman, pass by.
Joseph Conrad (1857-1924)
Sleep after toile, port after stormie seas,
Ease after warre, death after life, does greatly please.
Jerome K. Jerome (1859-1927)
In loving remembrance of
Jerome Klapka Jerome.
Died June 14th 1927.
Aged 68 years.
"For we are labourers together with God."
Sir Arthur Conan Doyle (1859-1930)
Steel True
Blade Straight
Arthur Conan Doyle
Knight
Patriot, Physician & Man of Letters

#D. H. Lawrence(1885-1930)
Homo sum! the adventurer.

#T. S. Eliot (1889-1965)
The communication of the dead is tongued with fire beyond the language of the living.
"In my beginning is my end. . . . In my end is my beginning."
--from Four Quartets, "East Coker"

#Kenneth Grahame (1859-1932)
To
the beautiful memory
of Kenneth Grahame
Husband of Elspeth
and
Father of Alastair
who passed the river
on the 6th of July 1932
leaving
Childhood and literature
through him the more blest
for all time.
H.G. Wells (1866-1946)

"Goddamn you all: I told you so."

#W. C. Fields (1880-1946)
~> Here lies W. C. Fields.
On the whole I would rather be living in Philadelphia.
Anne de Gaulle (1928-1948)
[Mentally handicapped daughter of Charles de Gaulle]
"Now she is like all others."

#Dylan Thomas  (1914-1953)
~>> [from his poem, "Fern Hill"]
Time held me green and dying
Though I sang in my chains like the sea . . .
Hilaire Belloc (1870-1953)
When I am dead, I hope it may be said:
"His sins were scarlet, but his books were read."

#Dorothy Parker (1893-1967)
~> Excuse my dust.
Reverend Doctor Martin Luther King, Junior
(1929-1968)
Free at Last, Free at Last
Thank God Almighty
I'm Free at Last.

#Charles A. Lindbergh (1902-74)
~> If I take wings of the morning, and dwell
in the uttermost parts of the sea.
Olive Gilbert
(1898-1981)
[Sang with Ivor Novello]
In loving and grateful memory

#OLIVE GILBERT (1898-1981)
~>We'll gather lilacs again
Howard Ashman
(died 1991)
O, That he had one more song to sing.