WHY shou'd a Heart so tender break?
O Myra! give its Anguish Ease:
The Use of Beauty you mistake,
Not meant to vex, but please.
Those Lips for smiling were design'd,
That Bosom to be prest,
Your Eyes to languish and look kind,
For am'rous Arms your Waste:
Each thing has its appointed Right
Establish'd by the Powers above;
The Sun and Stars give Warmth and Light,
The Fair distribute Love.