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Poems upon several Occasions.
51
From such painful Ways of living,
Ah how sweet, cou'd Love be free?
Still presenting, still receiving,
Fierce, immortal Ecstasie!
To MYRA. SONG.
PRepar'd to rail, resolv'd to part,
When I approach the perjur'd Maid,
What is it awes my timorous Heart?
Why is my Tongue afraid?
With the least Glance a little kind,
Such wond'rous Pow'r have Myra's Charms;
She calms my Doubts, enslaves my Mind,
And all my Rage disarms.
Forgetful of her broken Vows,
When gazing on that Form divine
Her injur'd Vassal trembling bows,
Nor dares her Slave repine.
D 2
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