Poems, on sacred and other subjects and songs, humorous and sentimental: By the late William Watt. Third edition of the songs only--with additional songs |
 |
 |
|
| 1. |
| 2. |
| 3. |
| 4. |
| 5. |
| 6. | MELODY SIXTH. Solomon's Song, Chap. II. III.
|
| 7. |
| 8. |
| 9. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 | Poems, on sacred and other subjects |  |
48
MELODY SIXTH. Solomon's Song, Chap. II. III.
My beloved exclaim'd, “Rise, my love, ever fair!
To the banquet of cloyless delight quick repair;
For the winter of sorrow hath fled far away,
And the mild spring of gladness shines bright as noonday.
The flowers of the field now 'mong dew-drops are springing;
From each bush and spray native music is ringing;
Even sweet Philomela, unrivall'd in singing,
Beguiles the lone night with her soul-melting lay.
To the banquet of cloyless delight quick repair;
For the winter of sorrow hath fled far away,
And the mild spring of gladness shines bright as noonday.
The flowers of the field now 'mong dew-drops are springing;
From each bush and spray native music is ringing;
Even sweet Philomela, unrivall'd in singing,
Beguiles the lone night with her soul-melting lay.
“Now the young luscious figs 'mong the green leaves are found;
And the rich clust'ring grapes weigh their stems to the ground,
Which with sweet flav'rous scent doth the garden perfume:
Rise, my love! come away: thou art beauty's best bloom.
Among lilies we'll rove till the break of the morning,
And the sun banish night, while the fields he's adorning;
Bound, my love, like a roe, all dependency scorning;
On Bethel's green mountains thy freedom resume.”
And the rich clust'ring grapes weigh their stems to the ground,
Which with sweet flav'rous scent doth the garden perfume:
Rise, my love! come away: thou art beauty's best bloom.
Among lilies we'll rove till the break of the morning,
And the sun banish night, while the fields he's adorning;
Bound, my love, like a roe, all dependency scorning;
On Bethel's green mountains thy freedom resume.”
By night, on my bed, I did seek for my love,
And yet all my search unsuccessful did prove;
But when I was wand'ring the city around,
To my joy and surprise, my beloved I found.
“O beloved,” I cried, “never leave nor forsake me,
But of thy joys divine let me always partake free;
The daughters of Zion shall never awake thee,
Till in thy soft slumbers all langour be drown'd.”
And yet all my search unsuccessful did prove;
But when I was wand'ring the city around,
To my joy and surprise, my beloved I found.
“O beloved,” I cried, “never leave nor forsake me,
But of thy joys divine let me always partake free;
The daughters of Zion shall never awake thee,
Till in thy soft slumbers all langour be drown'd.”
| Poems, on sacred and other subjects | |