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,

290 Must every trace of beauty melt away.