TELL me, ALEXIS, what this parting is,
That so like
dying is, but is not it?
It is a
swounding for a while from blisse,
'Till kind HOW DOE
YOU call's us from the fit.
the spirits only stray, let mine
Fly to thy bosome,
and my soule to thine:
Thus in our native seate we
Our right for one, where we can better
Lu. But ah, this ling'ring, murdring
Death quickly wounds, and wounding cures the
Alex. It is the glory of a valiant lover,
Still to be dying, still for to recover.
Soldiers suspected of their courage goe,
ensignes and their breasts untorne show:
his standard, when his hoste he sets,
Alex. But part
we, when thy figure I retaine
Still in my heart,
still strongly in mine eye?
Lu. Shadowes no longer
than the sun remaine,
But his beams, that made 'em,
fly, they fly.
Cho. Vaine dreames of love! that only
so much blisse
Allow us, as to know our wretchednesse;
And deale a larger measure in our paine
joy, then hiding it againe.
whilst light raigns, LUCASTA still rules here,
all the night shines wholy in this sphere.
Lu. I know
no morne but my ALEXIS ray,
To my dark thoughts the
breaking of the day.
Alex. So in each
other if the pitying sun
Thus keep us fixt, nere may
his course be run!
Lu. And oh! if night us undivided
Let us sleepe still, and sleeping never wake!
Cruel ADIEUS may well adjourne awhile
The sessions of a looke, a kisse, or smile,
behinde an angry grieving blush;
But time nor fate
can part us joyned thus.