I am a BECKE, or river as you know, And wat'rd here ye church, ye schole, ye pore, While God did make my springes here for to flow: But now my fountain stopt, it runs no more; From Church and schole mi life ys now bereft, But no ye pore four poundes I yearly left.
We may add that the stream of his charity still flows, and is yearly distributed amongst the poor of Kettlethorpe.
Bishop Sanderson, in his "Survey of Lincoln Cathedral," gives the following epitaph on Dr. William Cole, Dean of Lincoln, who died in 1600. The upper part of the stone, with Dr. Cole's arms, is, or was lately, in the Cathedral, but the epitaph has been lost:--
Reader, behold the pious pattern here Of true devotion and of holy fear. He sought God's glory and the churches good. Idle idol worship he withstood. Yet dyed in peace, whose body here doth lie In expectation of eternity. And when the latter trump of heaven shall blow, Cole, now rak'd up in ashes, then shall glow.
Here is another from Lincoln Cathedral, on Dr. Otwell Hill:--
'Tis OTWELL HILL, a holy Hill, And truly, sooth to say, Upon this HILL be praised still The Lord both night and day. Upon this Hill, this HILL did cry Aloud the scripture letter, And strove your wicked villains by Good conduct to make better. And now this HILL, tho' under stones, Has the Lord's Hill to lie on; For Lincoln Hill has got his bones, His soul the Hill of Zion.
The _Guardian_, for 3rd Dec., 1873, gives the following epitaph as being in Lillington Church, Dorset, on the grave of a man named Cole, who died in 1669:--
Reader, you have within this grave A Cole rak'd up in dust. His courteous Fate saw it was Late, And that to Bed he must. Soe all was swept up to be Kept Alive until the day The Trump shall blow it up and shew The Cole but sleeping lay. Then do not doubt the Coles not out Though it in ashes lyes, That little sparke now in the Darke Will like the Phoenyx rise.
Our next example was inscribed in Peterborough Cathedral, to the memory of Sir Richard Worme, ob. 1589:--
Does Worm eat Worme? Knight Worme this truth confirms, For here, with worms, lies Worme, a dish for worms. Does worm eat Worme? sure Worme will this deny, For Worme with worms, a dish for worms don't lie. 'Tis so, and 'tis not so, for free from worms 'Tis certain Worme is blest without his worms.