To John Johnson, on His Presenting Me With an Antique Bust of Homer
Kinsman beloved, and as a son by me!
When I behold this fruit of thy regard,
The sculptured form of my old favourite bard,
I reverence feel for him, and love for thee.
Joy too and grief. Much joy that there should be
Wise men and learned who grudge not to reward
With some applause my bold attempt and hard,
With others scorn: critics by courtesy.
The grief is this, that sunk in Homer’s mine,
I lose my precious years now soon to fail,
Handling his gold, which howsoe’er it shine,
Proves dross, when balanced in the Christian scale.
Be wiser thou;—like our forefather Donne,
Seek heavenly wealth, and work for God alone.
