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6

Cap. I. CANTICUM Canticorum Salomonis. DIVINI AMORIS ECSTASIS Quæ & PROTASIS.

SPONSA. SPONSUS.

SPONSA.

Osculetur me osculo.

Sponsa.

I

False Glozing World, in vain
Juices and Herbs for me Thou dost compound;
Juices and Herbs, which ne'r can ease my pain,
Or heal an inward bleeding Wound:
With love (alas!) I'm pierc't to th' heart,
Beyond Thy skill, or helpless Physicks art.
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II

Come then, thou heav'nly LOVE,
And with Thee thine own sov'raign Med'cine bring:
Come! and the cause of all my griefs remove,
That I Thy mighty praise may sing:
Ah! put Thy sacred Lips to mine,
And let's mix souls, as we chast Kisses joyn!

III

Dear Kiss! how sweet it was!
Above those Spirits, which gen'rous wines exhale;
Like perfume how it fill'd the ambient space,
And in its passage ravisht all,
Virgins, who but Spectators came:
Sweet are Thy kisses LOVE; sweeter Thy Name.

IV

Only to see my LORD
They came, but now like me are all on fire;
Draw me, O, draw me by Thy pow'rful Word,
One pace shall shew our joynt desire:
Both they, and I will follow Thee,
And Thy unransom'd Captives ever be.

V

Thy Love at length, blest King,
Where all her fears may have an happy end,
Into thy Nuptial Chamber please to bring,
Where we Thy praises may intend,
And firmly of Thy self possest,
Our Mouths with singing fill, with joy our Breast!
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VI

With songs Our Mouths We'll fill,
And to exalt Thy Glories never cease;
The Od'rous dews, which from Our Lips distil,
Shall give Thy Land a rich encrease:
Above all Wines Thy Love wee'll raise,
And just Men with us shall record Thy praise.

VII

I'm black, 'tis true, but so,
Fair Daughters of Jerus'lem, as the Tents
Of Sun-burnt Arabs, humble, dark, and low,
But full of Regal Ornaments;
Or as those Curtains Salomon
Draws to conceal from vulgar sight his Throne.

VIII

Unjust you 're to despise
A Face, which only wants your beaut'ous Charms;
My Country Sun (alas!) has stain'd my Eyes,
And robb'd them of so potent Arms:
From his too near approach I took
What thus you gaze at, my discolour'd look.

IX

My Mothers Sons beside,
Careless what burden they on me did lay,
And angry too, to' a Vineyards scorching side,
Bound my attendance every day:
Their Vines too' unfit to keep, when my' own,
With weeds, for want of dressing, were o'regrown.
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X

Dear LOVE, by whom I'm freed
And to a nobler Service now design'd,
Tell me, O tell me, where Thy Flocks do feed,
And what cool shades, at Noon they find;
Why should I from Thee go away,
And to the Tents of other Shepherds stray?

SPONSUS.

Si ignoras te, O Pulcherrima.

Sponsus.

I

Fairest of Women, beaut'ous Shepherdess,
If hitherto Thou hast not known
What walks thy Faithful Shepherd does possess,
And where my Flocks find shade at Noon,
This narrow Tract, will to our Sheepcots lead,
Where thy Kids may securely rest, and safely feed.

II

But, ah, how ill with simple Swains agree
Those beauties, which are all Divine?
Pharao in triumph born, compar'd to thee,
Does with unequal glory shine;
And tho exalted in his Chariot high,
With more of pomp, wants of thy real Majesty.
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III

To those, who need them, Chains and Bracelets leave,
My Love has beauties of her own;
Beauties, which no advance from Art receive,
Nor owe their flame to' a sparkling stone:
For when these Ornaments she please to wear,
Jewels take lustre from her Eyes, gold from her Hair.

IV

Enough 'tis that she any place will yield,
Near her, for things I've common made,
As flints ith' City, and as grass ith' Field,
And with them deigns to be array'd:
Tho at her feet the rich Embrodery,
Low as the Earth its bed, worn in her Train does ly.

SPONSA.

Dum esset Rex in accubitu suo.

Sponsa.

I

My LOVE, my King, when from thy Fold
Return'd, Thou shalt with me sit down,
The Pris'ner in my Arms I'll hold,
And his Head with Spik-nard crown:
He 'twixt my Breasts shall sleep all Night,
And flames inspire pure as the Mid-day light.
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II

The spicy East, Father of Gums,
Deserves not to be nam'd with Thee,
From whom his Myrrh, and Virtue comes,
Thy self the true Myrrh-bleeding Tree:
Engaddis Camphire, when it blows,
Near Thee does all its scent, and spirits lose.

SPONSUS.

Ecce tu Pulchra es amica.

Sponsus.
Worthy my Love, how art thou fair,
Beyond what mortal Women are!
Chast, and inno'cent, as a Dove,
Full of mild, and spotless love,
And from whose Eyes a ray does shine,
Than Doves more bright, and as Thine own Divine.

SPONSA.

Ecce tu Pulcher es Dilecte.

Sponsa.
Not I, t'is Thou, my LOVE, art fair
Bright as the Sons of Heaven are;
And those perfections Thou giv'st me,
Are what I first receiv'd from Thee,
In whom, as in their true Original they be.
Come then, my HEART, lo, all around,
With Greens our Bed, with Flow'rs I've strew'd the ground!
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Come, let us sit down, and beguile,
Unmist the weary Hours a-while;
And when the Night recals us home,
T'our Cedar Palace we will come,
And of each others Love possest,
With jealous boadings unopprest,
On beds of Iv'ry take our chast and welcome rest.

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