Postscript to Mr. Flaxman, Sonnet

England! kind parent! Freedom's fav'rite trust! Honour's prime pupil! Nature's noblest care! Thy feelings rapid as thy virtues rare! Blame not my pride, that o'er the filial dust Of youth, now claiming the sepulchral bust, I ask thy spirit in my grief to share! For like thy heart and mind His truly were— Brave, modest, tender, charitable, just! His docile genius with fond joy I train'd To love thy glory, and thy faith revere; Nor will I murmur, though my frequent tear Proclaims the Dead, unutterably dear: So may I share with him, what he has gain'd, The recompence of Heaven for anguish well sustain'd!