A Dialogue between a living Nymph, and a Youth who was drown'd. Written thus at the Request of a Lady

Nymph.
TELL me, Dear Youth, why hence you (fled?
Why shunn'd you mine for Thetis Bed?

Youth.
For me she spreads her Liquid Charms,
I wanton in her Chrystal Arms,
And she, the watry Nymph, burns for me dead.

Nymph.
Ah! why would you not stay with me?
Am I not yielding soft as she?
My Love, as flowing too appears,
As in its highest tides is her's;
Nor shall it ever know an Ebb for thee.

Tho' now she seems so melting kind,
You will her Ice, and coldness find.
She to the Sun, at Night, will flow,
Tho' not so vigorous, as you,
Ah! not so glorious, as when here you shin'd.

To him too she will Faithless prove,
For the Moon's changes change her Love.
She Loves you not so well as I,
Who to no Arms, but yours, will fly,
For as both liv'd in Eires, in Waters both should Dye.

Not all the Coral she can show,
Or Jewels ought to Alter you,

Youth.
Not all her Treasures, and her Gold,
In mighty summs, which can't be told;
Nay, should she give the Sun, which makes them too.