My Vows to Myra all were meant to Thee,
The Praise, the Love, the matchless Constancy.
'Twas thus of old, when all th' immortal Dames
Were grac'd by Poes, each with sev'ral Names;
For, Venus, Cytheréa was invok'd,
Alters for Pallas, to Athéna smoak'd:
Such Names were theirs; and thou the most Divine,
Most lov'd of Heav'nly Beauties, Myra's thine.
Myra at a Review.
LET meaner Beauties conquer singly still,
But haughty Myra will by thousands kill,
Thro' armed Ranks triumphantly she drives,
And with one Glance commands ten thousand Lives:
The trembling Heroes nor resist nor fly,
But at the Head of all their Squadrons die.
To MYRA.
I.
What means this Change on Myra's Brow?
Her aguish Love now glows and burns,
Then chills and shakes, and the cold Fit returns.
