Thyrsis' Vow to Venus

These violets, holy Power, to thee With grateful mind does Thyrsis cast, For that from long-loved Leuca, he Has gained some fruit of love at last. Creeping behind the lilach trees, I snatched three kisses, sweet and choice; I could no more, for in the breeze We surely heard her mother's voice. Blue violets now; but, should'st thou grant All my heart beats for, Power Divine, Engraved with this rude rhyme, a plant Of deathless myrtle shall be thine. 'This myrtle, faithful to his vow, Thyrsis to Venus gives, and more, Himself and flocks, as tasting now Love's gracious sweets, but wished before.'