SonnetTo my venerable Friend, the President of the Royal Academy.From one unus'd in pomp of words to raiseA courtly monument of empty praise,Where self, transpiring through the flimsy pile,Betrays the builder's ostentatious guile,Accept, oh West, these unaffected lays,Which genius claims and grateful justice pays.Still green in age, thy vig'rous powers impartThe youthful freshness of a blameless heart;For thine, unaided by another's pain,The wiles of envy, or the sordid trainOf selfishness, has been the manly raceOf one who felt the purifying graceOf honest fame; nor found the effort vainE'en far itself to love thy soul-ennobling art.
From one unus'd in pomp of words to raiseA courtly monument of empty praise,Where self, transpiring through the flimsy pile,Betrays the builder's ostentatious guile,Accept, oh West, these unaffected lays,Which genius claims and grateful justice pays.Still green in age, thy vig'rous powers impartThe youthful freshness of a blameless heart;For thine, unaided by another's pain,The wiles of envy, or the sordid trainOf selfishness, has been the manly raceOf one who felt the purifying graceOf honest fame; nor found the effort vainE'en far itself to love thy soul-ennobling art.