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. |