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Rh 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.