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A Dialogue between Alexis and Astrea.

Alexis.
1 Come, fair Astrea, let us for a while
2 Beneath this pleasant Shade our Cares beguile:
3 In kind Discourses let us pass away
4 The tiresom Heat, and Troubles of the Day:
5 The Gods no greater Blessing can bestow
6 Than mutual Love, 'tis all our Bliss below.
Astrea.
7 But Men, false Men, take Pleasure to deceive,
8 And laugh, when we their Perjuries believe;
9 Their Languishments, and all their other Arts,
10 Their Sighs, and Vows, are only Snares for Hearts.
Alexis.
11 Think not, unjust Astrea, all are so,
12 Alexis will a deathless Passion show.
13 May the severest of all Plagues, your Hate,
14 And all the Rigors of an angry Fate,
15 With all those Curses that to Guilt are due,
16 Fall on my Head, when I am false to you.
17 A Love like mine, can no decrease admit;
18 A Love, inspir'd by Virtue, and by Wit,
19 Like its immortal Cause, will ever last,
20 And be the same, when Youth, and Beauty's past:
21 Nor need Astrea blush to own my Flame,
22 Or think 'twill prove a Blemish to her Fame,
23 Since 'tis as pure, as Spotless as her Mind,
24 Bright as her Eyes, from all its Dross refin'd.
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Astrea.
25 When Humors are alike, and Souls agree,
26 How sweet! how pleasant must that Union be!
27 But oh! that Bliss is but by few possest,
28 But few are with the Joys of Friendship blest.
29 Marriage is but a fatal Lott'ry made,
30 Where some are Gainers, but the most betray'd:
31 The mild and froward, cruel and the kind,
32 Are in unequal Chains by Fate confin'd:
33 Most are a Sacrifice to Interest made,
34 Interest, and Gold, now more than Love persuade:
35 To conqu'ring Gold, the most themselves submit,
36 That has more Charms, than Beauty, Youth, or Wit:
37 Unhappy they! whom Riches thus unite,
38 Whom Wealth does to the sacred Band invite:
39 The languid Passion quickly will expire,
40 Wealth can ne'er keep alive the dying Fire:
41 Virtue the Hymenæan Torch shou'd light,
42 'Tis that alone preserves its Lustre bright:
43 The Rich and Great let the vain World admire,
44 Neither their Gold, nor Grandeur, I desire;
45 Virtue, and Love, to me's a great Estate,
46 I wish no more, but leave the rest to Fate.
Alexis.
47 Let Kings for Empire, and for Crowns contend,
48 Let them their Arms to distant Realms extend:
49 I envy none, no not the Pow'rs above,
50 I've all I covet in Astrea's Love.
Astrea.
51 How blest are we! nothing our Hearts can sever,
52 Not Death it self, we'll love, we'll love for ever.
Alexis.
53 But we must part; hard Fate will have it so,
54 Alexis must from his Astrea go.
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55 Yes, we must part; O th' afflicting Sound!
56 It shakes my Breast, my very Soul does wound.
57 Is there no way, this Misery to shun,
58 Ye cruel Gods! what has Alexis done
59 To merit this severe, this rig'rous Fate?
60 Had you no way, but this, to shew your Hate?
Astrea.
61 Cease these Complaints; while you possess my Heart,
62 While there you live, can we be said to part?
63 Our Thoughts shall meet, they ne'er can be confin'd,
64 We'll still be present to each other's Mind:
65 I'll view you with my intellectual Sight,
66 And in th' indearing Object take Delight:
67 My faithful Mem'ry shall your Vows retain,
68 And in my Breast you shall unrival'd reign.
Alexis.
69 And your dear Image shall my Solace prove,
70 On that I'll gaze, to that I'll sigh my Love:
71 To that a thousand tender things I'll say,
72 And fancy that does ev'ry Sigh repay:
73 Each word approves by an obliging Smile,
74 As if it kindly wou'd my Griefs beguile:
75 Thus, will I languish out the tedious Day,
76 Thus, will I pass my saddest Hours away.
Astrea.
77 What tho' by Fate our Bodies are confin'd,
78 Nought can obstrust the Journies of the Mind:
79 A virtuous Passion will at distance live,
80 Absence to that will a new Vigor give,
81 Which still increases, and grows more intense,
82 The farther 'tis remov'd from the mean Joys of Sense.

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Title (in Source Edition): A Dialogue between Alexis and Astrea.
Author: Lady Mary Chudleigh
Themes:
Genres: dialogue

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Chudleigh, Mary Lee, 1656-1710. Poems on several occasions. Together with the Song of the three children paraphras'd. By the Lady Chudleigh. London: Printed by W.B. for Bernard Lintott at the Middle Temple Gate in Fleetstreet, 1703, pp. 37-39. [16],125,[17],73,[1]p.; 8⁰. (ESTC T97275) (Page images digitized from a copy in the Bodleian Library [(OC) 280 j.452].)

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