By his jolly rubicund face he appears to have been a thorough bon-vivant, yet with much the air of the gentleman. The original, a well painted picture, was given to us by John Wynne, of Coperleney, in this neighborhood, who, by the inscription on the back, seems to have taken as much pride in being thought the friend of John Pennant, as Sir Fulke Grevil did in being the friend of Sir Philip Sydney. Many a bottle had they emptied during their thirty years friendship. He resided at Chelsea, where my father often visited him during the boyish holydays. My father told me he was frequently taken by him to the coffee-house, where he used to see poor Richard Cromwell, a little and very neat old man, with a most placid countenance, the effect of his innocent and unambitious life. (13)

Near this place, under a stone with his name on it, lies the body of
John Pennant, gent. second son of David Pennant, of Bichtan, in the
county of Flint, esq; who departed this life the 5th of June, 1709,
aged 69. In whose memory this monument was erected, by his
mournful widow, who designs to be interred in the same grave:

Had virtue in perfection power to save
The belt of men from the devouring grave.
Pennant had liv’d; but ’tis in vain to flie
The fatal stroke, where all are doom’d to die.
Farewel, lov’d spouse; since want of words appears
T' express my grief. I’ll moan thy loss with tears,
Which like Nile’s cataracts shall rumble down.
And with their briny floods my passion drown.
Here may thy allies undisturb’d remain,
Till thy wife’s dust re-visits thee again;
Then sacred quiet, till the day of doom
Seal the enclosure of our catacomb. (Pennant, 13-14)