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THE NATIONAL PAINTING.
269
And then the tints, the shade, the flush,
(I wrong them with a strain too humble,)
Not mighty Sherred’s25 strength of brush
Can match thy glowing hues, my Trumbull!
Go on, great painter! dare be dull—
No longer after Nature dangle;
Call rectilinear beautiful;
Find grace and freedom in an angle:
Pour on the red, the green, the yellow,
“Paint till a horse may mire upon it,”
And while I’ve strength to write or bellow,
I’ll sound your praises in a sonnet.
D.
