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.

Related Material


Seward, Anna. Original Sonnets on Various Subjects and Odes Paraphrased from Horace. London: G. Sael, 1799. Project Gutenberg EBook #27663 produced by Michael Roe and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team, 2008.

Last modified 22 August 2018