Ungrateful Myra! urge me thus no more,
Nor think me tame, that once so long I bore:
Tho' now by Philters I'd avert thy Change,
The Philters failing, Poison shall revenge:
Already stands prepar'd the deadly Draught,
Of an Assyrian was the Secret bought:
For whom that Draught? Ah feeble Rage and vain!
With how secure a Brow she mocks my Pain?
Thy Heart, fond Lover, does thy Threats belie,
Canst thou hurt her, for whom thou yet wou'dst die?
Nor durst she thus thy just Resentment brave,
But that she knows how much thy Soul's her Slave.
But see! Aurora rising with the Sun
Dissolves my Charm, and frees th' enchanted Moon,
My Spells no longer bind at Sight of Day,
And young Endymion calls his Love away.
Love's the Reward of all, on Earth, in Heav'n,
And for a Plague, to me alone was giv'n.
Evils we cannot shun we must endure,
Death and a broken Heart's a ready Cure.
Cynthia farewell, go rest thy weary Light,
I must for ever wake———We'll meet again at Night.
