Sonnet LXV. To The Same.

Marcellus, since the ardors of my strain To thy young eyes and kindling fancy, gleam With somewhat of the vivid hues, that stream From Poesy's bright orb, each envious stain Shed by dull Critics, venal, vex'd and vain, Seems recompens'd at full; - and so wou'd seem Did not maturer Sons of Phoebus deem My verse Aonian. - Thou, in time, shalt gain, Like them, amid the letter'd World, that sway Which makes encomium fame; - so thou adorn, Extend, refine and dignify thy lay, And Indolence, and Syren Pleasure scorn; Then, at high noon, thy Genius shall display The splendors promis'd in its shining morn.