The greatest compliment I have ever yet receiv'd for any fancied eminence in my profession has not been so flattering to my vanity as having had the honour to have so excellent a Poem address'd to me as this really is which I have now before me, and the consideration that this compliment is made me by Mr. Morrison makes me at a loss in what manner to express the obligation I feel myself under for so great a favour. I may truly say and without affecting much modesty that I am not worthy of the attention you please to honour me with.
As I have not had time yet to consider it as maturely as I intend to do, I can only say in general terms that I admire it exceedingly.
I am quite ashamed to have kept this Letter so long, which proceeded from an expectation I dayly had of reading the Poem with Mr. Johnson and Dr. Goldsmith but which I have not yet been able to accomplish.
The former part of this Letter was wrote a few days after I had the pleasure of seeing your Son; you have surely the greatest reason in the world to think me the most ill mannered as well as the most ungrateful person breathing in not returning my thanks sooner; and now that it is delay'd so long it has not answerd any end except that I have the pleasure of saying, I find no cause on a second and third reading to retract what I said in the former part of the Letter, my own opinion is worth but little; but I hope soon to have the pleasure of acquainting you with the approbation of those Critics which it is some honour to please.
With great acknowledgment for the distinction you have been pleased to honour me with,
I am with the greatest respect your most obliged humble servant,
I beg my compliments to Miss and Mr. Morrison.
To this Morrison evidently sent a reply expressing his pleasure at Reynolds' praise of the poem, for on January 8, 1767, Reynolds wrote again.
I am much obliged to you for the compliment you make me in thinking my approbation of any value, to tell you the truth the reason of my setting so little value on it myself, proceeds not so much from modesty, or an opinion that I cannot feel the powers of Poetry, or distinguish beauties from defects, but from a consciousness that I am unable to determine (as all excellence in comparative) what rank it ought to hold in the scale of Art; and this judgement can be possess'd I think by those only who are acquainted with what the world has produced of that kind.