The miscellaneous works (1739)

O come! and with thy balmy kisses sooth
These holy languishments, and let thy breath
With vital fragrance chear my drooping pow'rs:
Not spicy wines with their delicious scent,
And cordial flavour, so revive the soul.

Thy name is music! when I mention thee
Celestial sweetness fills the ambient air;
The list'ning virgins find the heav'nly charm,
Confess thy worth, and catch the sacred flame.

O draw me with the soft, resistless bands
Of gentle love, and I will follow thee
To those fair chambers where my gracious king
With royal banquets feasts my longing soul,
And seals his truth in sacramental wine.
But who can paint the rising ecstasy

248

His presence gives, while on his charming face
Sit smiling beauty, and immortal love?

Have I deserv'd this grace? my conscious heart
Forbids the guilty boast; for I am black
As Kedar's tents; expos'd at burning noon
The sultry sun has stain'd my native hue.
But who shall ask my glorious lover why
His favours, thus unmerited, are plac'd?

Conduct me, thou more dear to me than life!
Conduct me where thy snowy flocks are fed,
In verdant meads among the living springs
That gently wind around their flow'ry banks:
There let me shelter'd in the cool recess
Of some delightful shade repose at noon,
Nor ever from thy sacred pastures stray
In paths unknown, nor hear a stranger's voice.

HE.

Thou fairest object that the world can boast!
Keep near the shepherds tents; thy little kids
May there securely feed, and safely rest,
Follow the bleating of my harmless flocks,
And mark their foot-steps on the grassy plain.

What artless graces on thy mein appear!
Not Pharaoh's manag'd steeds with easier state,
In golden reins, the royal chariot draw.
Where-e'er I gaze, new beauties charm my sight.
The sparkling pendants on thy blushing cheeks

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More warmly glow, while from thy lovely neck
The circling chain new blandishment receives.

Ye nymphs of Salem, with your nicest art
Prepare the nuptial vest: On braided gold
Let silver foliage round the border shine.

SHE.

While at his royal board the heav'nly king
Vouchsafes to entertain his joyful guests,
Let all my spikenard yield its rich perfume:
But oh! what sweetness like his rosy breath?
Not myrrhe new bleeding from the wounded tree,
Nor blest Arabia thro' her spicy groves
Such fragrance blows. He all the silent night
Shall lean his head upon my peaceful breast.

As clust'ring camphire, with a livelier green
Distinguish'd, in Engedi's vineyard stands,
Thus with peculiar charms thy heav'nly form
Surpasses all the pride of human race.
Not half so bright the eyes of doves as thine,
Their lustre all similitude exceeds:
Description faints, when I would talk of thee.

But I shall praise thee in a loftier strain,
When in the blissful bow'rs above we meet;
Those glorious mansions rais'd by skill divine,
Where crown'd with peace and ever-verdant youth,
The jocund hours dance on their endless round.

250

Chapter II.

HE.
A bloom like thine the vernal rose displays
On Sharon's flow'ry lawn; so pure a white
The fragrant lilly of the valley wears:
As these among the rambling briars shine,
My fair excels the daughters of the land.

SHE.

My prince distinguish'd with superior charms
Out-shines the brightest of the sons of men;
As some tall tree, with golden apples crown'd,
Stands eminent, the glory of the grove:
Beneath his cooling shade reclin'd I sate,
And sooth'd my taste with the delicious fruit.

Me to his house of banquetting the king
With gracious smiles invites, and o'er my head
The banners of immortal love displays;
Its sacred myst'ries unfolded there,
Emblazon'd, shew the triumphs of his grace.

With flowing bowls from life's eternal spring,
And heav'nly fruits refresh my fainting soul;
For I am sick of love.—O let me lean
My drooping head upon thy downy breast;
While thy left arm supports me, let thy right
Kindly infold me in a chaste embrace.

251

HE.

JERUSALEM's fair daughters, that attend
The princely bow'rs, I charge you by the hinds,
The nimble roe-bucks, and the sportive fawns,
(Your sylvan joys) I charge you not to wake
My sleeping Love, nor break her golden rest.

SHE.

What heav'nly music steals upon the dawn?
'Tis my Beloved's voice! behold! he comes,
Light as a bounding hart along the hills;
Now thro' the lattice darts his radiant eyes,
And in this gentle language calls me forth.
‘Arise, my charmer! see! the morning breaks
‘In rosy smiles; the wint'ry storms are gone,
‘The fragrant spring, with flow'ry chaplets crown'd
‘Leads on her jovial train; the feather'd race
‘In artless harmony unite their strains,
‘While cooing turtles murmur in the glade;
‘The pregnant fig-tree shoots, the purple vine
‘With promis'd clusters chears the pruner's hope;
‘Nature in all her vernal glory shines:
‘Arise, my Fair! arise, and come away!’

From the cool grotto's of the marble rock
Come forth, my Dove, display thy lovely face,
And let thy charming voice delight mine ear;
Thy voice is music, harmony divine,
And in thy face celestial beauty smiles.

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Ye keepers of my vineyard, spread the toils
To catch the wily foxes, that destroy
The swelling clusters rich with purple juice.

SHE.

My lord is mine, and I am wholly his
By purchas'd right, and voluntary vows.
Among the lillies he delights to walk,
Himself more fragrant, and more fair than they!

O stay! nor leave me, 'till the morning rays
Break from the east, and dissipate the gloom:
Then if I must a while thy absence mourn,
Swift as the hart on Bether's airy hills
Return again, and bless my longing eyes.

Chapter III.

SHE.

'Twas night, when on my restless bed I sought,
But sought in vain the partner of my cares,
For he was now withdrawn: In soft complaints
I breath'd my grief, but there was no reply.
With haste I rise, and thro' the spacious streets
Distracted rove; at last, the nightly watch
I met, but they no consolation give.

253

Not far from them my weary feet had gone,
E'er the bright object of my love appear'd;
Eager I clasp'd him in my folded arms;
Then gently drew him to my mother's house,
The sacred seat where first our mutual flames
With solemn vows, and holy rites were seal'd.

Virgins of Salem, by the forest roe,
And skipping fawn, I charge you not to wake
My slumb'ring Lord, nor break his soft repose.

See! where he comes from his sequester'd bow'r,
And with celestial fragrance fills the air,
Perfum'd with all the aromatic cost
That rich Sabæa's spicy groves produce:
Such sweets in clouds of holy incense rise,
When eastern odours on the altar smoke.

The regal bed, a valiant guard surrounds;
Threescore the boldest sons of Judah's race,
With each a sword girt on his manly thigh,
To free the night from terror and alarm.

King Solomon with wond'rous art prepar'd
A chariot blazing with imperial cost:
The frame was polish'd wood from Lebanon,
Its pedestals of gold, in equal height
The silver pillars rose, the gay support
Of purple curtains, proud with Tyrian dye,
The seat beneath was softly pav'd with love.

254

Daughters of Salem, see the Hebrew king
Crown'd with the beauteous wreath his mother plac'd
About his temples, on that happy day
When bridal rites completed all his bliss.

Chapter IV.

HE.

What sparkling language can describe my fair?
Not all the various charms that nature boasts,
In gay similitudes can reach her worth.

Less mild than her's the eyes of doves appear.
Her tresses waving to the sportive wind,
Look like the frisking kids on Gilead's plain.
In equal rows her teeth appear more white
Than sheep new shorn wash'd in the crystal brook.
Her lips like threads of scarlet: When she speaks
In sweetest sounds the melting accents flow.
Her rosy cheeks glow thro' the flowing curls,
Like ripe pomegranates blushing on the tree.
Like David's lofty tow'r her graceful neck,
Circled with gems, as that with glitt'ring shields.
Her breasts, the seat of innocence and truth,
Harmless and white as twins of gentle roes,
Which in some fragrant spot of lillies feed.

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'Till the celestial morn with golden beams
Dispels the gloom, and clears the dusky sky,
I'll hasten to the hills of frankincense,
And dropping myrrhe; while thro' the silent shades
Refreshing gales their balmy breath diffuse.

How fair thou art! how spotless in my sight!
Return, my Love, from Lebanon with me
To Shenir's groves, and Hermon's flow'ry plain.
Look from the top of Amana, nor fear
The spotted leopard, or the lion's range.

A thousand graces lighten in thy eyes;
In pleasing chains thy captive I am held,
My Spouse! my Sister!—If beyond these names
Of chaste affection, there are dearer ties,
Still thou art more to me! My ravish'd heart
Dwells on thy heav'nly beauties, and prefers
Thy love to all the joys of sprightly wine.
Not honey dropping from the luscious comb
Exceeds the sweetness on thy balmy lips.
The vernal scents of Lebanon perfume
Thy flowing vest with aromatic dews.

A garden well enclos'd, a fountain seal'd
From all unholy and profane access,
Such is my Love to me: As fertile too,
As some fair orchard crown'd with ev'ry plant
Grateful in taste or smell.—Thro' verdant leaves
The large pomegranate's ripen'd scarlet glows,

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While spikenard, cassia, frankincense and myrrhe
Their humid odours yield: The golden bloom
Of saffron spreads its treasures to the sun.

But thou art sweeter than the flow'ry spring,
Or blest Arabia when her spices blow;
Thy mind unsully'd as the crystal streams
That plenteous flow from tow'ring Lebanon.

SHE.
Awake, thou north, ye southern breezes rise,
With silken wings your balmy vapour spread,
And open ev'ry aromatic bloom!
While my Beloved with his presence glads
The sylvan scenes, and tastes my pleasant fruits.

Chapter V.

SHE

I come, my lovely Sister and my Spouse!
Those spicy groves, and ever-blooming bow'rs
Invite me often to their happy shades;
Balsamic odours and delicious fruits
With various plenty entertain me here.

O come, my friends, the banquet is divine!
Indulge your taste, and recreate your souls
With heav'nly food, and consecrated wines.

257

SHE

Unwelcome slumbers steal upon my sense,
I sleep, but still my list'ning fancy wakes.
'Tis my beloved speaks, I know the voice:
‘My fair, my undefil'd! he gently cries,
‘Unbolt these envious doors; 'tis I that call
‘For entrance here: My locks with drizly dews,
‘And falling moisture of the night are fill'd.”
‘My vesture's off, my cruel tongue reply'd,
‘How can I put it on? My feet new-wash'd
‘How can I groping thro' the dark defile?”

Still at the door my injur'd lord attends,
While on the lock his busy fingers move:
Touch'd with a soft remorse, at last I rise,
Flew to the door; but while with eager haste
The fasten'd lock I search'd, sweet smelling myrrh
From ev'ry bolt its precious moisture shed;
The rich perfume my lover's hands had left.
With joyful speed the passage I unbarr'd,
But found my visionary bliss was gone.
My soul with anguish melted when he spoke,
And now with wild distraction sees her guilt.
I call'd in vain, for there was no reply,
In vain I search'd, for he was now withdrawn:
Then pensive wand'ring thro' the silent streets
The watchmen found me, and with cruel scorn
Reproach my honour and unblemish'd name.
The scoffing centry took away my veil.

But you, bright maids of Salem, I adjure
By your own chaste affections, if you find

258

My lord, with all your tender eloquence
Relate the anguish of my love-sick heart.

VIRGINS.
Inform us then, thou fairest of thy sex!
For whom those melting tears are shed in vain;
Tell us with what peculiar excellence
Superior to the race of men he shines.

SHE.
Among ten thousand he distinguish'd stands.
A spotless white with rosy blushes stain'd
Adorns his face, bright as a cloudless morn,
With crimson flush'd. In shining curls his hair
Flows graceful down, black as the raven's plumes.
His eyes, the eyes of doves, serene and mild.
A vernal bloom upon his youthful cheeks
And balmy lips perpetually resides.
To what shall I his matchless hands compare,
And snowy fingers? whence the circling gems
Receive more grace and lustre than they give.
His well-shap'd legs in just proportion rise
Like marble pillars on a base of gold.
Majestic and complete his form appears,
As tow'ring Lebanon with cedars crown'd.
Persuasion dwells upon his charming tongue,
And eloquence divine: When-e'er he speaks
My soul with ecstasy attends the sound.
He's altogether lovely!—This is he,
My friend, my life, and my eternal bliss!

259

Chapter VI.

VIRGINS.
Thou prime of beauty! tell us where to find
Thy absent Lord; to what sequester'd shade
Does he retire? that we may seek him there.

SHE.

The fertile gardens are his pleasing haunts:
With balmy scents and juicy fruits regal'd,
On flow'ry beds he takes his sweet repose.

Tho' absent now, my well-beloved's mine,
And I am his: Immortal love has join'd
Our constant hearts; nor place, nor endless lengths
Of time shall e'er the sacred union break.

HE.

See here she comes!—but how divinely fair!
Should Tirza with its lofty turrets rise,
Or Salem's golden spires the landscape paint,
A finer prospect in her face I view.
Should armies march along in pompous ranks,
With ensigns spread, and glitt'ring spears advanc'd,
Her glances, yet more conqu'ring rays would dart.—
O turn away thy bright resistless eyes!
They overcome me with their piercing light.

As Gilead's rising top with flocks adorn'd,
Thy temples thus the curling tresses grace.

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Not sheep, new-wash'd, with snowy twins appear
More white and equal than thy polish'd teeth:
Nor half so fair the ripe pomegranate's blush,
As that which glows upon thy blooming cheek.

Unnumber'd beauties grace Judea's court,
And royal maids their sov'reign's will attend:
But thou art one selected from the rest,
Thy mother's blooming joy and only care.
The queens and virgins saw thy matchless form,
Approv'd thy charms, and blest thee with their smiles.

Thy lovely aspect, as the morning clear,
Fair as the silver moon, but darting light
More warm and splendid than the mid-day sun!
Thy mien majestic, as the pompous show
Of armies in a proud triumphant march!

Along the spicy groves and flow'ry vale,
Delighted with their various sweets I walk'd,
Survey'd the springing plants, the curling vines,
And fair pomegranates in their luscious bloom.
But oh! the blest surprize, when unawares
Thy lovely form among the trees I saw:
Wing'd with desire my hasty steps out-flew
Amminadib's light chariots in their speed.

Return, my charming Shulamite, return
With me to those inviting shades again;
Our joys the same as when two armies join'd
In peaceful leagues forget their hostile claims.

261

Chapter VII.

HE.

Thou lovely offspring of a princely race,
How graceful is thy mien! Thy slender legs
With buskins ty'd of ornamental cost!
What just proportion shines in ev'ry part!
What artful hand such excellence can trace!

Like summer harvests fruitful, and as fair
As silver lillies in their snowy pride.
Her breasts like twins of young unspotted roes.
Her neck an iv'ry column fitly plac'd.
But what can match the splendor of her eyes!
Not Heshbon's limpid current, when the sun
Reflected sparkles on the crystal wave.
As Lebanon's high palace, op'ning wide
In dazzling prospect to the distant hills,
Such perfect symmetry her features boast.
As Carmel's top with plenteous verdure crown'd,
Her head a flowing length of shining hair
With silken ringlets decks.—Th' enamour'd king,
Held by her beauty, in the gallery stays.

How fair thou art! how fashion'd for delight!
Thy stature like the shapely palm, thy breasts
Like swelling clusters of the juicy vine:
I'll climb the palm, and with its verdant boughs
My joyful temples crown; the juicy vine
Shall with its swelling clusters please my taste.

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The vernal sweetness of thy rosy lips
The ambient air perfumes; while in thy voice
Celestial music charms my list'ning ears:
Thy voice would stay th' invading sleep of death,
And with immortal rapture fill the soul.

SHE.
What joy can equal this transporting thought,
That my beloved's mine, and I am his!
Come, let us to the peaceful village haste,
There lodge at night; and at the early dawn
With thee I'll range the solitary fields,
Observe the vineyards, how their branches shoot,
How in its prime the fresh pomegranate glows;
These pleasing scenes shall tender thoughts inspire,
Improve our joys, and sooth the heav'nly flame.
Come, let us hasten to our country-seat,
The blooming season in its prime appears;
The mandrakes at our gates perfume the air;
Within, what choice autumnal plenty yields,
Or early springs produce, fruits new and old
Of pleasing taste are all reserv'd for thee.

Chapter VIII.

SHE.
O could I call thee by a brother's name,
That tender title would indulge my bliss;
While unrestrain'd by thy superior claims

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I'd lead thee to my mother's rural seat,
And with domestic kindness treat thee there,
With spicy wines and sweet pomegranate's juice;
Then leaning on thy bosom gently rest,
While thou shouldst fold me in a chaste embrace.

Ye virgin train, I charge you not to wake
My sleeping lover from his soft repose.

HE.

Come lean, my fair, on this supporting arm,
The care to guide thy gentle steps be mine,
Along this gloomy forest's winding paths.
These pleasing scenes the pleasing thought revive,
When first thy mother brought thee to my arms;
Beneath a spreading tree's delightful shade
I saw, and rais'd thee from the lowly ground.

SHE.

For ever blest be that auspicious hour,
And may the soft impression ne'er be lost!
O set me as a signet on thy heart!
For love is strong as death, and jealousy
Relentless as the grave; and mine's a flame
That streams, that swelling fountains cannot quench,
Nor all the ocean's boundless stores allay.

I have a sister yet obscure and young,
A helpless orphan; let my gracious prince
With pity think on her defenceless state.

264

HE.
If worthy of our royal grace she prove,
A palace rich with silver roofs we'll raise,
Enclos'd with doors of cedar for her guard.

SHE.
Such was the favour, so divinely free,
That first with gentle and propitious eyes
Beheld my humble charms, and rais'd me thus.

HE.
His vineyard Solomon to keepers lets;
But mine, entrusted to no hireling's hands,
With pleasing toil employs my busy hours,
And is my constant, my peculiar care.
With thee, my Love, conversing in the shades
The downy moments wing'd with pleasure fly;
Still I could listen to thy charming voice:
Thy fair companions too instructed hear
Thy gracious words, and catch the heav'nly sound.

SHE.
My lord! my life! my soul's eternal bliss!
Haste to my longing arms! fly like the roe,
Or bounding hart on Bether's spicy hills!

University of Virginia Library

A Paraphrase on CANTICLES.

In blank verse.

A DIVINE PASTORAL.

Chapter I.

Chapter II.

Chapter III.

Chapter IV.

Chapter V.

Chapter VI.

Chapter VII.

Chapter VIII.