Sends from above ten thousand Blessings down,
Nor is he set so high for Show alone;
His Beams reviving with auspicious Fire,
Freely we all enjoy what all admire.
The Moon and Stars, those faithful Guides of Night,
Are plac'd to help, not entertain, the Sight.
Plants, Fruits, and Flow'rs the fertile Fields produce,
Not for vain Ornament, but wholesome Use;
Health they restore, and Nourishment they give,
We see with Pleasure, but we taste to live.
Then think not, Myra, that thy Form was meant
More to create Desire, than to content:
Wou'd the just Gods so many Charms provide
Only to gratifie a Mortal's Pride?
Wou'd they have rais'd thee so above thy Sex
Only to play the Tyrant, and to vex?
'Tis impious Pleasure to delight in Harm,
And Beauty shou'd be kind, as well as charm.
MYRA's PARROT.
IN those first times, when Nymphs were rude and coy,
The Gods disguis'd, laid ambushed for Joy;
