with aukward fear,
That soon the apostate will be all her own-- 280

XXX.

Spare, Oh! Time, these colours; spare 'em,
Or with thy tend'rest touch impair 'em:
At least, for some few centuries space,
Shine they with unlessen'd grace!
They shall---yet, Oh! these noble works at last
Must, by the gathering mould o'ercast,
Or rotted by the damps, decay,
Or by the air's corrosive power,
Or e'en the slowly-fretting hour,
Must every trace of beauty melt away. 290

XXXI.

When er'st APELLE's friend enquir'd,
Why touch'd so oft in every part
With repeated strokes of art,
The picture which already they admir'd,
The Artist, with becoming pride,
"I'm Painting for Eternity," replied.

XXXII.

But vain, great Genius! was thy boast;
Long since th' eternal piece is lost----
Thy VENUS now no more expresses,
Rising from her watery bed, 300
The moisture from her twisted tresses
O'er her dazzling bosom spread---
No more thy colours bloom, effac'd by age,
But in the poet's or th' historian's page.

XXXIII.

Oh then---reject not with disdain,
Great Artist, this unpolish'd strain----
Though happy while it may intend
Thy shining merits to display,
It may serve only in the end
My own weak genius to betray, 310
May shew with what presumption I aspire
To build the rhyme
And tow'er sublime
With PINDAR's vanity without his fire.

XXXIV.

Yet----confide----(for every trifler's breast)
And by this influence I presage
In the long course of rolling years,
When all thy labour disappears,
Yet shall this verse descend from age to age,
And, breaking from oblivion's shade, 320
Go on, to flourish while thy paintings fade.

XXXV.

If so---at present though thy hand
May glory of itself command,
Nor can the muse's laurels now,
Though wove with nicer skill than mine,
Help to adorn it, while they twine
Round thy already loaden brow---
Yes---if my presage is not vain---
Yes---if this verse hereafter should remain--- 330
(Though now indeed as needless quite
As at noon's blaze the taper's light)
It may then serve to aggrandize thy n