Anna Seward (Анна Сьюард)

Sonnet 68. Well it becomes thee, Britain, to avow

    ON THE POSTHUMOUS FAME OF DOCTOR JOHNSON.

Well it becomes thee, Britain, to avow
    Johnson's high claims!—yet boasting that his fires
    Were of unclouded lustre, Truth retires
    Blushing, and Justice knits her solemn brow;
The eyes of Gratitude withdraw the glow
    His moral strain inspir'd.—Their zeal requires
    That thou should'st better guard the sacred Lyres,
    Sources of thy bright fame, than to bestow
Perfection's wreath on him, whose ruthless hand,
    Goaded by jealous rage, the laurels tore,
    That Justice, Truth, and Gratitude demand
Should deck those Lyres till Time shall be no more.—
    A radiant course did Johnson's Glory run,
    But large the spots that darken'd on its Sun.

1. Sonnet 48. Now young-ey'd Spring, on gentle breezes borne
2. Sonnet 99. Remorseless Winter! in thy iron reign
3. Sonnet 33. Last night her Form the hours of slumber bless'd
4. Sonnet 80. As lightens the brown Hill to vivid green
5. Sonnet 53. The knell of Whitehead tolls!—his cares are past

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