Let the faint copier, on old Tyber's shore,
(Nor mean the task) each breathing bust explore,
Line after line with painful patience trace,
This Roman grandeur, that Athenian grace;
Vain care of parts; if, impotent of soul,
Th' industrious workman fails to warm the whole!
Each theft betrays the marble whence it came,
And a cold statue stiffen in the frame.
Thee Nature taught, nor Art her aid deny'd,
(The kindest mistress and the surest guide)
To catch a likeness at one piercing fight,
And place the fairest in the fairest light.
Ere yet the pencil tries her nicer toils,
Or on the palette lie the blended oyls,
Thy careless chalk has half atchiev'd thy art,
And her just image makes Cleora start.