University of Virginia Library

Cap. II. EVOCATIO SPONSÆ.

SPONSUS. SPONSA.

SPONSUS.

Sponsus.

SPONSA.

Sponsa.

SPONSUS.

Sponsus.
I COME—but (lo!) how peaceful sleep
In downy chains does all her Senses keep;
She sleeps, and will do well, compos'd to rest,
Of ease, her self, and him she loves, as wisht, possest.
Mean while, you Daughters of Jerusalem,
Who are, and to your selves more glorious seem
In her attendance, than your own fair stemm;
By the Hills, and by the Lawns,
By the Roes, and by the Fawns,
By the Fields, and by the Woods,
By the Springs, and by the Floods,
All that I, or you count dear,
All I love, and all you fear;
I charge you, I charge you not to awake
My Love from the rest, which now she does take,
Till her self pleases the Signal to make!

SPONSA.

Sponsus.
What voice was that, which struck my ear?
Ah! 'twas my LOVE, 'twas my LOVES Voice,
Which, were I dead, would make me hear,
And fill me with unutterable joys.
'Twas He, who spake, and is he gone?
Ah me! e're yet his Words were done,
So far remov'd hence, and so soon?
But he'll return ------
He comes, he comes, I see him come,
The very Mountains make him room,
And bow their Heads to yield him way;
The Hillocks dart a brighter ray;
Over the Mountain tops he skips,
Light as the Wind, o're th' Hillocks trips:
And now he's there, and now he's here,
Swift as the fleet wing-footed Deer;
And now behind our Wall he stands,
Looks at the Window, and commands
My' attendance, at the Lattice, with his beckning hands.
Nay he speaks too, and I hear him say,
“Rise up, my Love, my Fair one, come away!
“Winter at length is past, and gone;
“Look, how th' expected Spring comes on!
“Apace it comes, on Zephyrs riding,
“And the Rain, that stopt it chiding.
“The Rain is gone too, and gives place,
“And now appears a clearer face
“Of Heaven, and Earth, than did before:
“Enough of Storms, there's now no more.
“Lo! how the Flowers lift up their heads,
“And start out of their drousie beds.
“Wak'd by the Quire of Birds, that sing
“And Carol to the new-come Spring.
“They sing, and dance from bough to bough,
“As if they Winter ne're did know;
“As if they Winter ne're did fear,
“And 'twould be Summer all the Year,
“And every Night, and every Day,
“(Who more rich, or pleas'd, than they)
“Unbidden, Pipe, and unrewarded, play.
“The Fig-Tree too, on every twig,
“Puts out its callow unfletcht Fig.
“Unflesht, unripe, unripe tho' it be,
“Hatc'ht at once by its Mother-Tree;
“Born at one pang, without the throws,
“The' hard teeming Olive undergoes,
“That Gems, and Flowers, and flowring dies,
“E're th' half form'd Embry'o up does rise:
“Or the slow Vine its clusters brings,
“That gentle Plant, made up of Rings,
“Crispt, and curld, and wondrous sweet,
“But modest too, and veild toth' feet.
“Which in their courses, all attend,
“And forth their Odours all do send,
“The Springs to perfume, and thy way,
“Rise up my Love, my Fair One, come away!
Thus, thus but softer 'twas he spake,
With words a very Rock would break,
And e'ven in Stones impression make;
Hark, and you too, O Friends, may hear him speak!

SPONSUS.

Sponsus.
My DOVE, that in the Cliffs dost dwell,
And there to stones thy griefs dost tell,
To stones, which nor Thy plaints can hear,
Nor a part with Thee in them bear,
Not lend one sigh, nor shed one tear,
Come forth of Heaven, and me belov'd,
And be to a better Seat remov'd!
To one less deaf thy prayers direct,
Whom as Thy self, but more they may affect:
Make them, my Love, make them to me,
And let me Her, who makes them see!
Thy Voice, tho hoarse with calling grown,
And almost to Thy self unknown,
To me as sweet, as e're it was,
As Charming seems, and full of Grace;
And thy fair Eyes, with tears besprent,
Look through the liquid Chrystal far more Orient.
“For why to Heav'n no pompous Sacrifice,
“Than Holy Prayer can more accepted rise:
“And the Lambs Bride no richer Garment wears,
“Than simple White, or pondred with her pearly tears.
Come then of Heav'n, and me belov'd,
And be to a better Seat remov'd!
—SHE comes, she comes, I see her come,
The Cliffs, that held her, make her room;
And stoop their Heads, to plain her way,
Our Lawns reflect her brighter ray!
Take us the while, the Foxes take,
Which in our Vineyards Burroughs make!
The little Foxes, which dispoil
Our Vines, into a Gin beguile;
For there's a blessing in our Vine;
The tender Grape begins to shine,
A blessing of its own, her blessing 't has, and mine.

SPONSA.

Sponsa.