Epitaph on General Henry Withers, in Westminster-Abbey, 1729

IX

In Westminster-Abbey, 1729

Here, Withers , rest! thou bravest, gentlest mind,
Thy Country's friend, but more of Human kind.
Oh born to Arms! O Worth in Youth approv'd!
O soft Humanity, in Age belov'd!
For thee the hardy Vet'ran drops a tear,
And the gay Courtier feels the sigh sincere.
Withers , adieu! yet not with thee remove
Thy Martial spirit, or thy Social love!
Amidst corruption, luxury, and rage,
Still leave some ancient virtues to our age:
Nor let us say (those English glories gone)
The last true Briton lies beneath this stone.
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