And call the helping winds to vent your thoughts.

ALEXIS.

Amyntor! Chloris, where,

Or in what sphere

Say may that glorious fair be sought?

AMYNTOR.

She's now the centre of these arms ere blest,

Whence may she never move

Till time and love

Haste to their everlasting rest.

ALEXIS.

Ah, subtle swain! doth not my flame rise high

As yours, and burn as hot?

Am not I shot

With the self-same artillery?

And can I breathe without her air? AMYNT. Why then From the tempestuous earth,

Where blood and dearth

Reign 'stead of kings, again

Waft thyself over; and lest storms from far

Arise, bring in our sight

The seas delight,

Lucasta, that bright northern star.

ALEXIS.

But as we cut the rugged deep, I fear
The green-god stops his fell

Chariot of shell,

And smooths the main to ravish her.

AMYNTOR.

Oh no, the prince of water's fires are done,

He as his empire old

And rivers cold,

His queen now runs a bed to the sun;

But all his treasure he shall ope' that day: Tritons shall sound, his fleet

In silver meet,

And to her their rich off'rings pay.

ALEXIS.

We fly, Amyntor, not amaz'd how sent

By water, earth, or air:

Or if with her

By fire ev'n there

I move in mine own element.

A LADY WITH A FALCON ON HER FIST.

TO THE HONOURABLE MY COUSIN A. L.

THIS queen of prey (now prey to you),
Fast to that perch of ivory

In silver chains and silken clue,

Hath now made full thy victory.

The swelling admiral of the dread

Cold deep, burnt in thy flames, oh fair! Was't not enough, but thou must lead, Bound too, the princess of the air?

Unarm'd of wings and scaly oar,
Unhappy crawler on the land,

To what heav'n fly'st? div'st to what shore
That her brave eyes do not command?

Ascend the chariot of the sun

From her bright pow'r to shelter thee: Her captive (fool) outgazes him;

Ah, what lost wretches then are we!

Now, proud usurpers, on the right
Of sacred beauty hear your doom;
Recant your sex, your mas'try, might,
Lower you cannot be o'ercome.

Repent ye ere nam'd, he or head,
For y'are in falcons monarchy,
And in that just dominion bred

In which the nobler is the she.

CALLING LUCASTA FROM HER RETIREMENT.

ODE.

FROM the dire monument of thy black room
Where now that vestal flame thou dost entomb,
As in the inmost cell of all earth's womb.

Sacred Lucasta, like the pow'rful ray

Of heav'nly truth, pass this cimmerian way,
Whilst all the standards of your beams display.

Arise, and climb our whitest highest hill,

These your sad thoughts with joy and wonder fill, And see seas calm as earth, earth as your will.

Behold how lightning like a taper flies
And gilds your chariot, but ashamed dies,
Seeing itself out-gloried by your eyes.

Threat'ning and boist'rous tempests gently bow, And to your steps part in soft paths, when now There no where hangs a cloud, but on your brow,

No show'rs but 'twixt your lids, nor gelid snow, But what your whiter chaster breast doth owe, Whilst winds in chains colder your sorrow blow.

Shrill trumpets do only sound to eat,

Artillery hath laden ev'ry dish with meat,
And drums at ev'ry health alarums beat.

All things, Lucasta, but Lucasta call,
Trees borrow tongues, waters in accents fall,
The air doth sing, and fire's musical.

Awake from the dead vault in which you dwell, All's loyal here, except your thoughts rebel, Which so let loose, often their gen❜ral quell.

See! she obeys! by all obeyed thus ;

No storms, heats, colds, no souls contentious,
Nor civil war is found-I mean, to us.

Lovers and angels, though in heav'n they show, And see the woes and discords here below, What they not feel, must not be said to know.

THE END OF LUCASTA:

Odes, &c.