Hill, Frances

In Latin: Alas, sorrow! Stop, Traveller, and read; And as you read (whoever you are) mourn with me. Under this marble are laid the mortal remains of FRANCES HILL, Most dear and most indulgent wife of DANIEL HILL, Prebendary of this church. If you seek to know more of her and desire to read further, Take this in brief: She was a woman Of sincere simplicity and transparent piety, Inclined to charitable aid for the needy, Generous of hand but even more generous of spirit, always ready to give to them. To none of those among whom she lived Was she not welcome, beloved, and cherished. Plain in dress, attentive not so much to luxury as to cleanliness; More mindful of adorning the soul than the body. And giving care to this, she shone within, Clothed with virtue. Such indeed was My most faithful companion and dearest friend in this pilgrimage of life. She, (Because she was worthy of a world other than this one) Outstripped me, who was journeying with her; And weary from the road, hastened to her homeland, Dying on August 16th, A.D. 1706. What did I say—dying? She did not die, but departing from the body (not from life) she went away. She went indeed to the land of those who live together joyfully and sweetly; And leaving behind this miserable world of mortals and the dying, She left me, her most sorrowful and afflicted husband, To wander alone and be consumed with grief. For when the Rose perishes, the Thorn remains and pricks. If you read this and do not grieve, You are harder even than this marble itself. Under which, as soon as you know I too am laid, I shall again enjoy in our true homeland My most faithful and dearest companion whom I lost. Go And Rejoice. Rejoice then also, O dearest Wife, Happy in your death— Rejoice, I say, rejoice.