167v [=127v]

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171 Epitaph on Ferdi (The Baron)

Here lies a Soldier good without pretence
To Art unknown but strong in native Sense.
Who never flatter'd while he disapproved,
Nor e'er abandoned Those whom once he lov'd.
A Soul for Friendship, for Distress a tear.
Strangers alike to malice and to Fear.
His generous heart with warm affection glow'd,
And from that Source his language ever flow'd.
Too plain perhaps his blunt sincerity,
But for the grace of sensibility,
Which modelled every Thought, and gave his Mind
A form more soft, a Virtue more refined.
Such was.... such is, or had the Muse he loved,
The sad historian of her anguish proved.
Could she have taught the plaintive verse to flow
And thus in common measures told her woe?

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