Page:Poems of Anne Countess of Winchilsea 1903.djvu/495

COUNTESS OF WINCHILSEA 357 �Amal. Oh! why that Groan, that deep, that deathlike Groan ! �Aristor. When Soul and Body part, it can't be softer ; And I must leave thee, Soul to sad Aristor, With all those Pleasures which I but repeated, As Dying Friends will catch one last Embrace Of what they know, they must forego forever. 109 �Amal. Indeed, you've call'd my wand'ring Fancy back From those Delights, where 'twou'd have endless stray'd: But, my Aristor! (for I'll call you mine, Though all the Stars combine against my Title, And bar fulfilling of the Vows they've witness' d) Tell me, tho' we must ne'er in Nuptials join, May we not meet, and at this distance sigh ? And when I've hoarded up a Stock of Tears, Which in the Spartan's sight I dare not lavish, Oh! tell me, if I may not seek you out, And in large Showers thus pour them down before you ? 120 �[She weeps. �Aristor. Cease to oppress me more ; thou weeping Beauty, And think with what vast Storms my Soul is toss'd! �[Comes up to hear earnestly. Think too, that but to gaze upon thee thus, To stand in reach of thy Ambrosial Breath, And hear thy Voice, sweet as the Ev'ning Notes, When in still Shades the Shepherds sooth their Loves, I wou'd not mind an Army in my way, Or stop at raging Seas, or brazen Towers. Yet, Amalintha, tho' I Dye to speak it, Yet we must part, we must, my Amalinthal 130 �Amal. Never to meet agen? Tell me but that. �Aristor. Alas! not I, the Fates can only tell it: Let them make even one Account betwixt us, And give this Hand the Liberty to seal it. ��� �