ON A

LADY'S

PRESENTING A SPRIG OF MYRTLE

TO A

GENTLEMAN.

BY MR. HAMMOND.

What fears, what terrors does thy gift create!
Ambiguous emblem of uncertain fate!
The myrtle, ensign of supreme command,
(Consign'd by venus to melissa's hand)
Not less capricious than a reigning fair,
Oft favours, oft rejects the lover's care.
In myrtle groves oft sings the happy swain,
In myrtle shades despairing ghosts complain;
The myrtle crowns the happy lovers heads,
Th' unhappy lovers graves the myrtle spreads;
Oh! then the meaning of thy gift impart,
And cure the throbbings of an anxious heart;
Soon must this bough, as you shall fix his doom,
Adorn philander's head, or grace his tomb.