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To Miss ---
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

To Miss ---

Fair queen of love, thy pow'r I own;
To thee a suppliant bow;
And offer up at thy blest shrine,
My first, my infant vow.
No nymph, but you, how bright soe'er,
My stubborn heart could move;
No 'twas the charms of Celia's eyes,
That taught me first to love.

176

So some misguided wretch, who late
Sin's pleasing mazes trod;
By Jove reclaim'd, great Jove adores,
And prostrate owns the God.