AN EPITAPH UPON THE DEATH OF MR. WILLIAM WAINE,
VICAR OF ASHBORN.
COMPOSED BY EDWARD MANLOVE, ESQ.^[1]

Since that pale death, hath stopt the breath,
   Of Learned William Wain,
Friends and Allies, dry your wet eyes,
   To Weep it is in vain.
He's in the Dust, where all men must,
   Ere long interred be,
Whilst he liv'd here, he did appear,
   A Learned man to be.
Of judgement great, tho not so neat,
   In words, as many are,
But for his parts, in learned Arts,
   With most, he might compare.
Yet they can tell, that knew him well,
   He was not puff'd with Pride,
Nor soared high, ambitiously,
   But humbly liv'd and dy'd.
And in his Grave, as in a Cave,
   This learned Rabby lies,
Where he must stay, till that great day
   That Christ shall say arise.
Then Learned Wain, must rise again,
   From dusty earth and clay,
To judgement just, (as all men must)
   And after live for aye.

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EPITAPH UPON THE DEATH OF THE RIGHT WORSHIPFUL ANNE
COKAINE, WIDDOW, WHO DIED THE 29TH OF AUGUST, 1664.

BY EDWARD MANLOVE, OF ASHBORNE, 1667.^[2]

Here lies inter'd, one that deserv'd,
Great Honour, Praise and Fame,
Who comely was, and did surpass,
Most of her Noble Name.
In liberallity, and Hospitallity,
This Lady did delight,
Muses rise, do not despise,
Her praises to indite,
Yea ring her knell, her praises tell,
She humble was, though great,
Her comly parts, and humble heart,
Her prayses may compleat.
A comly Creature for form and feature,
Proper and tall of stature,
Noble hy Birth, lies in the earth,
Death conquer'd comly nature.
This Flower was, cut down like Grass,
Which flourished many a day,
She quit the Stage, in her old age,
Grimm Death, took life away.
God call'd for her, she made no stir,
But yielded patiently,
She knew full well, none need her tell,
All mortal men must die.
To Rich and Poor, respect she bore,
She did no sort despise,
She patiently did live and die,
And so she clos'd her eyes,
Now in the Dust (as all we must)
Ere long interred be,
This Lady is, Lord bring to Bliss,
Her whole Posterity.

The poet Edward Manlove was a lawyer and the Steward of the Barmote Court for the lead mines within the Wapentake of Wirksworth in the seventeenth century. He is probably best known for a lengthy rhymed chronicle published in 1653, the 'Liberties and Customs of the Lead Mines --- composed in meeter', for the use of the miners. He lived at Ashbourne, and would have known the subjects of his poems, but was buried at Wirksworth on 13 Nov 1671.

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TO MY MOST HONOURED COUSIN, THE LADY MARY FITZHERBERT OF TISSINGTON

Madam, the Peak is famous far and near
For a great many wonders that are there,
Poole's Hole, the Devils, Eldon-hole, the Well
That ebbs and flows, made Derbyshire excel.
The sandy hill that ever falls away
And yet (in bulk) doth suffer no decay ;
And Buxton's Bath (though in a Village Town)
Abroad our county, gives a fair renown.
These and the like, do far and near invite
Strangers, and natives to delight their sight,
But these are Grotts, Waters, and Hills, and such
As we have one that doth exceed these much ;
Your beauties, and your many virtues speak
You the chief Wonder that doth grace the Peak.
   SIR ASTON COKAINE, 1658^[3]. *New, Jan 2025*

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George Canning, later to be British Prime Minister, visited the Boothbys at Ashbourne Hall:^[4]

"So down thy hill, romantic Ashbourne glides
The Derby Dilly carrying three insides ;
One in each corner sits and lolls at ease,

With folded arms, propt back and outstretched knees ;
While the pressed bodkin, pinched and squeezed to death,
Sweats in the midmost place and scolds and pants for breath."

The Derby Dilly was the Derby Diligence, a stage coach which plied the route between Manchester and London - via Ashbourne. Canning's poem described what it was like inside the carriage, travelling downhill into the town, on one of his visits. J. D. Firth was later to say this road to Derby "climbed a fearful hill". It was a hill so steep that they had to cut another, less steep^[4]!.

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EDWARD BRADBURY^[5]

"In the little town of Ashbourne, upon each Shrove-tide day,
The people both young and old, turn our en masse to play
The ancient game of football, the origins of which
Is lost in dark obscurity––the date I cannot pitch."

  ~~~~~~~~~~

Tom Moore^[6]

Those evening bells ! Those evening bells !
How many a tale their music tells
Of youth and home and that sweet time
When last I heard their soothing chime.

Those joyous hours are passed away ;
And many a heart that then was gay
Within the tomb now darly dwells
And hears no more those evening bells.

And so 'twill be when I am gone ;
That tuneful peal will still ring on
While other bards shall walk these dells,
And sing your praise, sweet evening bells.

Tom Moore lived in a cottage at Mayfield for about four years. whilst there he wrote Lalla Rookh, a "fantasy oriental splendour". It is widely believed that Ashbourne's parish church inspired the lines. He worshipped at St. Oswald's between 1813 and 1819.

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The Ashborne Foot-Ball Song^[7]

I'll sing you a song of a neat little place,
Top full of good humour and beauty and grace ;
Where coaches are rolling by day and by night,
And in playing at Foot-Ball the people delight.
Where health and good humour does always abound,
And hospitality's cup flows freely around ;
Where friendship and harmony are to be found,
In the neat little town of Ashborne.

Shrove Tuesday, you know, is always the day,
When pancake's the prelude, and Foot-Ball's the play,
Where uppards and downards men already for fun,
Like the French, at the battle of Waterloo run.
And well might they run like the devil to pay,
'Tis always the case as I've heard say,
If a Derbyshire Foot-Ball man comes in the way,
In the neat little town of Ashborne.

There's Mappleton, Mayfield, Okeover and Thorpe,
Can furnish some men that nothing can whop,
And Bentley and Tissington always in tune,
And Clifton and Sturston are ready as soon.
There's Snelston and Wyaston, Shirley and all,
Who are all good men at brave Whittaker's call ;
And who come to kick at Paul Gettliffe's Foot-Ball,
In the neat little town of Ashborne.

The ball is turned up, and the Bull Ring's the place,
And, as fierce as a bull dog's is every man's face ;
Whilst kicking and shouting and owling they run,
Until every stitch in the ball comes undone.
There's Faulkner and Smith, Bodge Hand and some more,
Who hide it and hug it and kick it so sore,
And deserve a good whopping at every man's door
In the neat little town of Ashborne.

If they get to the Park the upwards men shout
And think of the downwards men put to the rout,
But a right about face they soon have to learn,
And the upwards men shout and huzza their turn.
Then into Shaw Croft where the bold and the brave,
Get a ducking in trying the Foot-Ball to save ;
For 'tis well known they fear not a watery grave,
In defence of the Foot-Ball at Ashborne.

If into Church Street should the ball take its way,
The White Hart and the Wheat Sheaf will cause some delay,
For from tasting their liquor no man can refrain,
Till he rolls like the Foot-Ball in Warin's tear-brain
Then they run and they shout and they bawl and the laugh,
They kick and huzza, still the liquor they quaff
Till another Foot-Ball has been cut in half,
By the unfair players of Ashborne. *New, Oct 2025*

Llewellyn Jewitt, who published the Ashborne Football Song, said it was sung by Mr. Fawcett, a comedian, at the Ashbourne Theatre on 26th February, 1821^[7]. This was an old theatre in Dig Street, and the lines were written on the original score^[8]. A number of people were mentioned, but without a Christian name or an occupation it is difficult to be certain who they were. For example, there is a burial for a Paul Gettliffe at the parish church on 2 Sep 1810, but he was 81; another died in Birmingham on 2 Apr 1838^[9]. It is not a common surname, but there is no proof it was him either.

Warin's "tear-brain" was described as a very strong ale brewed by Mr. William Warin, who passed away in 1831, and was then landlord of the Wheatsheaf which stood on the site of the Westminster Bank^[10]. Whittaker was believed to be another local landlord but I have not found any evidence to date. He could equally have been the local constable, Thomas Whittaker.

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More poems about places in Derbyshire:
Matlock & Matlock Bath: Inspiration of Poets is a large anthology about the former spa of Matlock Bath and hydropathy centre of Matlock.
Poems about Bonsall.
Poems about Shirland.

References:

^[1] Llewellynn Jewitt, (ed.) "The Reliquary" Vol. I, p.58. William Waine can also be found on List of the Vicars of Ashbourne's parish church.

^[2] Llewellynn Jewitt, (ed.) "The Reliquary" Vol. 3, p.103. Anne Cokaine was the daughter of Sir John Stanhope of Elvaston, wife of Thomas of Ashbourne and Pooley and the mother of Sir Aston Cockayne.

^[3] Llewellynn Jewitt, (ed.) "The Reliquary" Vol. 3, p.52. Aston Cokaine, who supported the monarch during the English Civil War, was then the owner of Ashbourne Hall.

^[4] Firth, J. B. (1908) "Highways and Byways in Derbyshire", MacMillan & Co., London, p.66. It came from "The Love Triangles", a satire on Darwin's "Love of the Plants".

^[5] "Derbyshire Times", 19 August 1898. From Links on the North Staffordshire Line.

^[6] The first line of Moore's poem was quoted in many newspapers. Much rarer was finding the whole poem! The poet appears to have lived at the cottage at intervals between the years 1813-1817 (Hobson, (1839) "The history and topography of Ashbourn, the valley of the Dove : and the Adjacent Villages" ...

^[7] Jewitt, Llewellyn (Feb 1867) F.S.A book, "The Ballads and Songs of Derbyshire.", pub. Bemrose and Sons, pp.284-6.

^[8] "Ashbourne Telegraph", 5 February 1932.

^[9] "Aris's Birmingham Gazette", 2 Apr 1838. On the 23rd February last Mr. Paul Gettliffe, of Hockley street, a man highly and deservedly respected.

^[10] "Ashbourne Telegraph", 29 Jan 1937. His probate was 9 Feb 1831.