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Amyntor.
Alexis! ah Alexis! can it be,
Though so much wet and
drie
Doth drowne our eye,
Thou keep'st thy winged
voice from me?
Alexis.
Amyntor, a profounder
sea, I feare,
Hath swallow'd me, where now
My
armes do row,
I floate i'th' ocean of a teare.
Lucasta weepes, lest I look back and tread
Your
Watry land againe.
Amyn. I'd through the raine;
Such showrs are quickly over-spread.
Conceive how
joy, after this short divorce,
Will circle her with
beames,
When, like your streames,
You shall rowle
back with kinder force,
And call the helping
winds to vent your thought.
Alex. Amyntor! Chloris!
where
Or in what sphere
Say, may that glorious
fair be sought?
Amyn. She's now the center of
these armes e're blest,
Whence may she never move,
Till Time and Love
Haste to their everlasting rest.
Alex. Ah subtile swaine! doth not my flame rise high
As yours, and burne as hot?
Am not I shot
With the
selfe same artillery?
And can I breath without
her air?--Amyn.
Why, then,
From thy tempestuous
earth,
Where blood and dearth
Raigne 'stead of
kings, agen
Wafte thy selfe over, and lest storms
from far
Arise, bring in our sight
The seas
delight,
Lucasta, that bright northerne star.
Alex. But as we cut the rugged deepe, I feare
The
green god stops his fell
Chariot of shell,
And
smooths the maine to ravish her.
Amyn. Oh no, the
prince of waters' fires are done;
He as his empire's
old,
And rivers, cold;
His queen now runs abed to
th' sun;
But all his treasure he shall ope' that
day:
Tritons shall sound: his fleete
In silver
meete,
And to her their rich offrings pay.
Alex. We flye, Amyntor, not amaz'd how sent
By water,
earth, or aire:
Or if with her
By fire: ev'n there
I move in mine owne element.
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