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The Poems of Edward Taylor

Edited by Donald E. Standford ... With a foreword by Louis L. Martz

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141. Meditation Cant. 6.8.9. There are threescore Queens, and fourscore Concubines, and Virgins without number.
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141. Meditation Cant. 6.8.9. There are threescore Queens, and fourscore Concubines, and Virgins without number.

2.1m [Mar.] 1717/8.
My Only Dear, Dear Lord, I search to finde
My golden Arck of Thought, thoughts fit and store:
And search each Till and Drawer of my minde
For thoughts full fit to Deck thy kindness o're,
But find my foreheade Empty of such thoughts
And so my words are simply ragged, nought.

338

Thoughts though the fairest Blossoms of my minde
Are things too loose and light t'strew at the gate
Of thy bright Palace. My words hence are winde
Moulded in print up thee to decorate.
Hence th'glory of thy Love Whose Sunshine here
I shall but darken with my dusty geere.
Hence I do humbly stand, and humbly pray,
Thee to accept my homely Style although
Its too too hurden a bearing blancket, nay
For to lap up thy Love in, it to show.
When spruiced up therein, it seems like thatch
Upon a golden Palace (Dirty slatch).
Thy Love dropt on thy Spouses Loveliness
Out measures all Dimention ne'er so wide.
Nay Angills pen can't pencill out its dress
Nor can its length or breadth ere out describe:
They never can thy gloryous Love out lay
Whose brightness doth out shine the brightest day.
All Virgins in their Virginall Attire:
Ladies of Honour eighty in array,
And threescore Queens robde shining out like fire
Can never match thy Spouses Beauty gay.
Though these for Number and for Glory rise
In sparkling glory get not to her Sise.
Thy boundless Love thy Spouses boundless prove
Doth take up all and in't did ever latch.
Oh Boundless Loveliness, and boundless Love
You neither either ever over match.
Yet know this thing, thy Boundless Love hath made
This Loveliness thus boundless where its laid.
Oh! let thy boundless Love my Lord, a Kiss
Bestow on me and joyn me to thy Dove
That is but one, Whose members have such Bliss.

339

And in its blissfull beams I'st ever move.
My portion then shall far excell the Share
Those Queens and Concubines and Virgins weare.
If one bright beam of this thy boundless Love
Do light on me, enlightend I shall bee
To Cooe thy praise as joyned to thy Dove
And double back thy Love with songs to thee.
Thy Love I'le thus requite with Songs Ile sing
Unto thy lovely selfe, under loves Wing.