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3

ΠΡΟ' ΑΣΜΑ.

I

Avoid Prophane, avoid! for such as you
There is no place, or listning here;
They're Mysteries, which we sing, and but a few
Receive them with a well-purg'd ear:
To all beside of love they sound,
Mock-love, that does from every Hill rebound,
And is no Virgin, when the painted Eccho's found.

II

A Female Love that is, by a truer name
Lust obscene, and dalliance call'd;
For whom th' unhappy wretch, who has a flame,
To fires of his own kindling's hal'd:
Yet such an Empire has she gain'd,
So universal, and so well maintain'd,
That Verse, as well as Men, she'has to'her service train'd.

III

Ah Verse, that e're thou shouldst be thus abus'd,
That thus thy self thou shouldst abuse!
The Devil, thy enemy, wisht thee ne'r worse us'd,
4

Than thou thy self, thy self dost use:
Quit, quit, thy Chains, er'e 'tis too late,
At length return to thy' unimprov'd estate,
Lawrels yet grow at th' Altar, where thou first didst wait!

IV

Lawrels there grow, and there's a Love Divine,
Which will compleatly fill Thy Song;
A Love that's Heav'n-born, truly Masculine,
From whom thou' hast banisht been too long:
Only return'd, this caution take,
As solemn as thou canst new homage make,
Both for Thine own defence, & Thy chast follow'rs sake!

V

And thou, my LIEGE, bright and immortal LOVE,
Who er'e Thou mortal Flesh didst take,
Descending from Thy azure Throne above,
An Image of Thy self didst make,
In which soft thoughts thou didst inspire,
And threw'st large portions of æthereal Fire,
To consecrate the shrine, where Thou wouldst in time retire;

VI

Thou, who e're made Man, wouldst as Man be known,
And transports infinite to' express,
Sustaind'st a part, which was no more thine own,
Than as each greater holds its less,
Wouldst love, and as a Lover sue,
In Words, and Acts, as Mortal Lovers do,
And thus THY SELF, thus thy BELOVED to us shew:
5

VII

Shewing us thus, as we could it conceive,
What had from Ages hidden lain,
The Glorys Thou designd'st Thy SPOUSE to give,
And what to 'effect them was thy pain,
Flesh of our Flesh, Bone of our Bone,
Pure GOD, and perfect MAN, in person One,
The' Great-grand-sires Father, and his Virgin daughters Son:

VIII

In Thine own Words this Myst'ry to unfold,
Or still to fold it, guide my Verse;
Inspire me, as Thou Salomon didst of old,
That I the Wonder may rehearse:
And when of Love the terms I use,
(Thy self its softest terms didst not refuse)
The softest to me' indite, the chastest for me chuse!

IX

Make my Verse soft, but make it chast withal,
These are the Beauties I desire,
Witness Thy self, whom I the Witness call,
How pure, and earthless is my Fire:
That pure, and earthless it may shine,
Reader, and Writer from all dross refine,
And Thine own Image stamp for'ts guard, on Thine own Coyn!
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