The First Cypher

The Smiles, the Graces, and the Sports,
That in the Secret Groves maintain their Courts,
Are with these Myrtles crown'd:
Thither the Nymphs their Garlands bring;
Their Beauties and their Praises sing,
While Echoes do the Songs resound.

Love, tho' a God, with Myrtle Wreaths
Does his soft Temples bind;
More valu'd are those consecrated Leaves,
Than the bright Wealth in Eastern Rocks confin'd:
And Crowns of Glory less Ambition move,
Than those more sacred Diadems of Love.