20No more, nor can we more expect.
But more than this thy happy pencils give;
Thy draughts are more than representative,
For, if we'll credit our own eyes, they live!
Ah! worthy friend, couldst thou maintain the state
Of what with so much ease thou dost create,
We might reflect on death with scorn!
But pictures, like th' originals, decay!
Of colours those consist, and these of clay;
Alike compos'd of dust, to dust alike return!