Cle.
Alas! I fain
A hundred times would hearken to that strain.
Ang.
I love you! I love you!
Tircis, I love you!
Cle.
Ye kings and gods who, from your eternal seat,
Behold the world of men beneath your feet,
Can you possess a happiness more sweet?
My Phyllis! one dark haunting fear
Our peaceful joy disturbs unsought;
A rival may my homage share.
Ang.
Ah! worse than death is such a thought!
Its presence equal torment is
To both, and mars my bliss.
Cle.
Your father to his vow would subject you.