136
Epistles.
Tho' wealth nor fame now touch thy sated mind, 45
Still tinge the canvass, bounteous to mankind!
Since after thee may rise an impious line,
Coarse manglers of the human face divine,
Paint on till Fate dissolve thy mortal part,
And live and die the monarch of thy art. 50
Still tinge the canvass, bounteous to mankind!
Since after thee may rise an impious line,
Coarse manglers of the human face divine,
Paint on till Fate dissolve thy mortal part,
And live and die the monarch of thy art. 50
