Philomela :: :: University of Virginia Library

Wilt thou deny the Bounty of a Kiss,
And see me languish for the melting Bliss?
More sweet to me than bright delicious Wine,
Press'd from the Purple Clusters of the Vine:
As fragrant too as Ointments poured forth,
Are the loud Echoes of thy matchless Worth;

Which makes the Virgins, kindled by thy Fame,
Wish to expire in the Celestial Flame:
Come then, display thy lovely Face, and we,
Drawn by resistless Charms, will follow thee;
Into thy Royal Chambers brought, where I,
May see my Lord, and fear no Witness by.

I'm black, 'tis true, for scorching in the Sun;
I kept another's Vine, and left my own;
But tho' thus clouded, the reflecting Face
Of my bright Love shall all this Blackness chace.

Say then, my Dear, much dearer than my Soul;
Where feed thy Milky Flocks? Unto what cool
Refreshing Shade dost thou resort? lest I
Should (as I languish) in thy Absence die:
Say, Lovely Shepherd, say, What happy Streams
Are gilded now with thy Illustrious Beams?

II.

I'll tell thee, Fairest of all Women, how,
Thou may'st my most frequented Pastures know:

Follow the Footsteps of my Flocks, and there
I will not fail to meet my Charming Fair.
Whom I, as Mistress of my Flocks will grace,
And on her Brows immortal Garlands place.

III.

The while my Spicknard shall ascend, and greet
My Charmer with its Tributary Sweet:
Then, all the Night, upon my panting Breast,
As fragrant Myrrh, let my Beloved rest.
So sweet he is, that Myrrh, nor Cypress e'er
With such delicious Breathings fill'd the Air.
When thy Two lovely Eyes inflame my Heart,
It leaps for Joy, and meets th' unerring Dart.

IV.

O! thou more fair, more vastly bright, than all
The World did ever Bright, or Glorious call:
My verdant Love still flourishing, to thee
Shall fixt, as our Eternal Mansions be.

CHAP. II

At thy Approach, my Cheek with Blushes glows,
And conscious Warmth, which with Thee comes and goes;
Like the pale Lily join'd to Sharon's Rose;
And Thorns to them I sooner would compare,
Than other Beauties to my Darling Fair.

II.

And I as soon would rank a fruitful Tree
With barren Shrubs, as Mortal Clods with thee.
Beneath thy Shade, blest, to my Wish, I sat,
And of thy Royal Banquet freely eat;
Whilst o'er my Head a Banner was display'd:
In which, O! melting Sight! the God of Love did bleed,
Excess of Pleasure will my Soul destroy;
I'm e'en oppress'd with the Tyrannic Joy:

O! therefore turn thy lovely Eyes away;
(Yet do not, for I die, unless they stay.)
I faint, I faint; alas! no Mortal yet,
With Eyes undazzled half this Splendor met:
But sure I cannot sink, upheld by Thee;
So would I rest unto Eternity.
And now I charge you, Virgins, not to make
The least Disturbance, till my Love awake.

III.

What Charming Voice is that salutes my Ear?
It must be my Beloved's; he is near:
He is, and yet unfriendly stays without:
He stays, as if he did a Welcome doubt.
But hark, methinks I hear him softly say;
Arise, my Fair, arise, and come away!
For lo the stormy Winter's past and gone;
And Summer, dress'd in all her Pride, comes on:
The warbling Birds in airy Raptures sing
Their glad Pindarics to the welcome Spring:

The Fig-Trees sprout, the chearful Vines look gay;
Arise, my lovely Fair,—One, come away!
Come forth, my Dove, my Charming Innocence;
How canst thou fear, while I am thy Defence?

IV.

Do thou the spiteful Foxes then destroy,
That would my young aspiring Vines annoy.
Not for the World would I exchange my Bliss,
While my Beloved's Mine, and I am His:
And till the Break of that Eternal Day,
Whose Rising Sun shall chace the Shades away;
Turn, my Beloved, turn again; and thy
Dear Sight shall make the lazy Moments fly.

CHAP. III.

'Twas in the Deadness of a Gloomy Night,
My Love, more pleasant than the wish'd-for Light,
O'er all my Bed I vainly sought; for there
My Arms could grasp no more than empty Air.
Griev'd with my Loss, thro' all the Streets I rove,
And ev'ry Ear with soft Complaints I move:
Then to the Watch, impatient, thus I cry;
Tell me, O tell! Did not my Love pass by?
When lo, a Glimpse of my approaching Lord,
A Heaven of Joy did to my Soul afford:
So the dark Souls, confin'd to endless Night,
Would smile, and welcome-in, a Beam of Light.
I clasp'd him, just as meeting Lovers wou'd,
Who had the Stings of Absence understood:
I held him fast, and cent'ring in his Breast,
My ravish'd Soul found her desired Rest.

Him to my Mother's House I did convey;
Humble it was, and yet he deign'd to stay.
And now I charge you, Virgins, not to make
The least Disturbance, till my Love awake.

Bridegroom.
Glorious as Titan, from the Eastern Seas,
A Beauty comes from yon dark Wilderness:
So Sacred Incense proudly rises up
In cloudy Pillars of perfumed Smoke:
Compounded Spices of the greatest Cost
Could ne'er such Aromatic Sweetness boast.

Bride.
The Shining Courts of Princely Solomon
Were nobly crouded with a Warlike Train:
All arm'd compleatly, all expert in Fight,
To guard him from the Terrors of the Night.
A Chariot Royal to himself he had;
Its Pillars of refined Silver made:
The Seats of Gold, fair Purple Clouds above;
And, all the Bottom, softly pav'd with Love.

But lo, a Prince, than Solomon more great;
On whom vast Troops of shining Angels wait:
His Crown more bright, and fix'd, than that which shone
Upon the Nuptial Brows of Solomon.

CHAP. IV.

Bridegroom.
Tho' all the lower World should ransack'd be,
There could be found no Parallel for Thee:
Thy Eyes like Doves, thy fair intangling Locks,
Curled, and soft as Gilead's Milky Flocks:
Like them thy Pearly Teeth appear, for so
Unsully'd from the Crystal Streams they go.
But O! To what may I thy Lips compare?
Since fragrant Roses bloom not half so fair.
The Morning ne'er with such a Crimson blush'd,
When from the Arms of sooty Night she rush'd.
The ripe Pomgranate's Scarlets are but faint,
To those fresh Beauties which thy Cheeks do paint.

Thy Neck and Breasts, in Whiteness, do out-go
Ungather'd Lilies, or descending Snow.
And till the Dawn of that expected Day,
When all my radiant Glories I display,
And chace at once, th' injurious Shades away:
I'll on the Hills of Frankincense reside,
And pass the Time with Thee, my Charming Bride;
My Love, in whom such vast Perfections meet,
As render Thee transcendently compleat:
Then, come with me, from Lebanon, my Spouse,
O come, and look beyond this Scene of Woes:
Thou may'st, and yet it is but darkly, see
The bright Abodes I have prepar'd for Thee.
So sweet she looks, that in blest Transports I,
Meet the believing Glances of her Eye;
My All on Earth, my Sister, and my Spouse;
Whom from a vast Eternity I chose:
Not Golden Goblets, crown'd with noble Wine,
E'er gave such elevating Joys as Thine;

Such, as the soft Expressions of thy Love;
So much those Dear, those charming Accents move.
My Love is like a flowry Mansion wall'd,
Or some reserved Crystal-Fountain seal'd;
Whose Waves, untouch'd, thro' secret Channels slide,
Untainted, as the Silver Streams, that glide
From Heaven, assaulting Lebanon; and fair,
As beauteous Eden's gilded Currents were.

Bride.
Were I a Garden, ev'ry Flow'r in me
Should proudly yield their conscious Sweets to thee;
The ruddy Fruit should thy Arrival greet,
And smile, and gently bend, thy Lips to meet.

Bridegroom.
So strongly thy kind Invitations move,
I will my Garden see, my Garden, and my Love;
Not Hybla's Hives such precious Sweets can yield,
Nor Clusters brought from rich Engeddy's Field,
Which, to my Lips, I'll raise with eager Haste,
My Lips, that long'd the Heav'nly Fruit to taste.

CHAP. V.

The Night her blackest Vestments had put on,
And all the fair Remains of Day were gone;
When my dear Lord, as he had oft before,
With Speed, and Love, approach'd the bolted Door:
Arise, my Love, he cries, and with a Voice,
Divinely charming, pleads his Entrance thus;
My Spouse, my Sister, and my fairest Love,
(Believing, sure, that Dialect would move;)
Arise, for laden with the Midnight Dew,
Disorder'd, all my streaming Tresses flew:
I knew the Voice, the moving Eloquence;
But ah! deluded by my drowsy Sense;
Careless, and soft, upon a mossy Bed,
I lean'd supine, with Od'rous Roses spread;
And long, with weak Excuses, did delay,
Amazing him at my unwonted Stay.

Mov'd with his Patience, my relenting Breast,
Forgetting now to say, I am undress'd,
Unto the Door, at length, I rush'd in spite
Of Darkness, and the Terrors of the Night;
With Rage, to break the guilty Bars I try'd,
Which Entrance to my Lord so long deny'd:
But found the dear resenting Charmer fled,
I curs'd my Sloth, and curs'd my conscious Bed.
Yet then such fragrant Sweetness fill'd the Air
From his dear Hands, I thought he'ad still been there.
I call'd aloud, still hoping he was near,
And louder still, but Ah! he would not hear.
Then thro' the Streets, distracted with my Grief,
I wildly roving, begg'd of All, Relief.
At last I met th' ungentle Watch, and they
Deride my Tears, and force my Veil away.
Ye tender Virgins! you that know the Pain
A Breast so soft as mine must needs sustain,
Robb'd of the once kind Partner of my Fires,
And still dear Object of my rack'd Desires;

I charge you, if you meet my absent Love,
With all the Rhet'ric of our Sex to move
His deafned Ears; and tell him, with a Sigh,
Deep as my Wounds, ah tell him how I die.
Perhaps that Tragic Word may force the dear
Relentless Author of my Grief to hear.

Daughters of Jerusalem.
What thy Beloved is, we first would know,
Fairest of Women! thou dost charge us so.
What Charms unequall'd in him dost thou see,
Impatient Fair! to raise these Storms in thee?

Bride.
Commencing all Perfection, he is such
Your most exalted Thoughts can hardly touch,
Unsully'd Heaps of Snow are not so white,
He's fairer than condensed Beams of Light.
His Rosy Cheeks of such a lucent Dye,
As Sol ne'er gilded on the Morning Sky.
His Head like polish'd Gold, his graceful Hair,
Dark as the Plumes that jetty Ravens wear.

His Eyes, the endless Magazines of Love,
How soft! how sweet! how pow'rfully they move!
He breathes more Sweetness than the Infant Morn,
When Heav'nly Dews the flowry Plains adorn,
The fragrant Drops of rich Arabian Gums,
Burnt on the Altar, yield not such Perfumes.
His Hands, surpassing Lilies, grac'd with Gems,
Fit to inrich Celestial Diadems.
His Breast smooth Ivory, enamel'd all
With Veins, which Saphirs 'twere unjust to call,
Divine his Steps, with his Majestic Air,
Not e'en the lofty Cedars can compare.
So sweet his Voice, the list'ning Angels throng
With silent Harps to his melodious Tongue,
He's altogether Lovely,—This is He,
Now, Virgins Pity! tho' you envy Me.

CHAP. VI.

Virgins.
But where, ah where, can this bright Wonder be!
For, till we see Him, we are all on Fire;
We'll find Him out, or in the Search expire.

Bride.
If my Prophetic Hopes can rightly guess,
The lovely Wand'rer in his Garden is,
Among the Lilies, and the Spices; He
Is now perhaps kindly expecting Me;
Oh 'tis a Heaven of Joy to think him Mine.

Bridegroom.
And who can see those Eyes, and not be Thine?
Thy Face, where all the conqu'ring Graces meet;
Where Majesty doth Virgin-Softness greet:
Ah turn away those fair approachless Eyes;
I Love, but cannot bear the kind Surprize.

Hide, hide th' intangling Glories of thy Hair;
More bright than Streams of fluid Silver are:
Expose no more thy pearly Teeth, the while
Those rosy Cheeks put on kind Looks, and smile:
Such genuine Charms, how strongly they allure
My Soul, and all their Rival's Beams obscure.
They're numberless, my Spouse, my darling Fair;
But one, the Choice, and all her Mother bare:
The Royal Beauties saw, and bless'd the Sight;
And setting, wonder'd at a Star so bright.
Who is't, they say, Fair as the breaking Morn,
When ruddy Beams the bashful Skies adorn?
Clear as the Lamp that gilds the sable Night;
Daz'ling as Sol's unsufferable Light:
Gentle, but aweful, as a Scene of War;
At once her Graces conquer and endear.
And could'st thou think, my Love, I e'er design'd
To leave a Spouse so beautiful and kind?
I went but down into the Almond-Grove,
A lone Recess, indulgent to my Love;

Thence rang'd the pleasant Vale, whose spreading Vine
May quit my Care, perhaps, with bounteous Wine:
Where the Pomgranets blooming Fruits display
More Sanguine-Colours than the Wings of Day:
Or ere I was aware, my happy Eyes
Meet Thee, a juster Object of Surprize;
Fair as a Vision breaking from the Skies:
Scarce could my Breast my leaping Heart retain,
Scarce could my Soul th' unweildy Joy sustain,
When I beheld those welcome Eyes again.
But why that Discontent upon thy Brow?
Thou wilt not leave me, cruel Beauty, now?
Injurious Charmer, stay—What needs this Art,
To try the Faith of a too-constant Heart:
Return again; let my Companions see
The sweet Inspirer of my Flames in Thee.
Return, my Dear, return and shew the most
Victorious Face, that e'er the World could boast.