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21

CAP. III. DOLOR DE ABSENTIA SPONSI. EPITASIS.

SPONSA. CHORUS Amicorum Sponsi.
SPONSA SOLA.
In Lectulo meo per Noctes.

Sponsa.
'Twas Night, a sad and dismal Night,
Without one gleame of chearful Light;
Silence, and horror seiz'd its place,
And rioted ith' empty space;
When wake'd with dread, Lo! all alone
I found my self, my LOVE was gone.
With trembling Hand, to find him out,
I felt, I sought, but found him not.
At last thus to my self I said,
“I'le up, and see whither he' is stray'd:
“Fearless the City compass round,
“Nor give o're till my LOVE is found.
“No labour spare ith' quest, or pains,
“Through the broad Streets, and narrow Lanes,
“But eve'ry Lane, and every Street,
“Measure out with my weary Feet,
“And thus, or find him, or thus prove,
“My truth to His, and to my Love.
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I spake, I rose, but in vain sought,
And tir'd my self, yet found him not.
Him I found not, but they found me,
Who the City-Warders be;
And in their Night-walks compass it,
Amaz'd a stricter Watch to meet,
And thus themselves first askt to be,
“Him, whom my Soul loves did you see?
My steps scarce from them could I move,
But I found Him my Soul does love.
I held him fast, nor would let go my hold,
Chast in my Love, and in his Favour bold,
Till to my Mothers House I brought Him,
And all my adventurous search had taught him,
To the glad room, where I was born,
But in my Birth less joyous than in his return.
And now, fair Daughters of Jerusalem,
Who are, and to your selves more glorious seem,
In his attendance than your own fair stem;
By the Hills, and by the Launs,
By the Roes, and by the Fauns,
By the Fields, and by the Woods,
By the Springs, and by the Floods,
All that I or you count dear,
All he loves, and all I fear:
I charge you, I charge you not to awake
My LOVE from the rest, which now he does take,
Till himself pleases the signal to make!

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CHORUS Amicorum Sponsi.

Quæ est ista quæ ascendit per, &c.

Chorus.
What fair One's that, who from the Desert comes,
Strait as a Palm, and breathing Odorous Gums;
Or like those Pillars, which from th' Altar rise,
Of mystic Smoak, on which Heav'ns Pavement lies;
Th' expiring Soul of Myrrh, to its last abode
Hasting, as if 'twould be it self a God?
So choice a Beauty, and Divinely fair,
A meen so lovely, and so bright an Air,
Centred in whom all just Perfections meet,
The Wise, the Good, the Awful, and the Sweet,
Is only worthy him, whose sacred Love,
None equal knows, but his, who reigns above.
Behold his Bed (his Bed that's Salomons,
As far as Heav'n admits comparisons)
No Queen need dread the terrors of the Night,
With such a Watch, so 'appointed, and so bright.
About it Sixty valiant Grooms attend,
Such as for triumph Israel forth do's send.
All valiant Men, and expert all in War,
Girt as in Fight her mighty Conquerours are;
Each with his Sword upon his guarded Thigh,
And able each an Army to defy,
But whose united Forces all meet here,
To keep the Post and drive thence grizly fear.
A Chair the King, of Cedar too has made,
The cleanest Trees that Libanus e're had,
Whose Balli'sters are of finest Silver wrought,
The floor of Gold, from Ophirs treasures brought;
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Its Cano'py of the richest Tyrian dye,
Enough to upbraid a meaner Majesty.
Such the Materials, but Art Divine,
Ith' Workmanship does Nature far out-shine.
For all with winged Loves tis Carv'd around,
Love in more various postures ne're was found.
Some on Heav'ns Message flying, from above,
Thither advancing some our mortal love,
Which all refin'd, like Prophets, others Preach,
But learn of Sions Daughters, whom they seem to teach.
—These are the shadows, fair One, of that bliss
Awaits Thy love, and all are Myste'ries:
Which none, but he that's Wise, can understand,
Nor any write but with a guided Hand.

SPONSA.

Egredimini & videte filiæ Sion.

Sponsa.
Daughters of Jerusalem,
The fairest Sprouts of Sions stem,
Come forth, my Friends, come forth, and see
What mine, and what your Honours be!
You well remember th' happy Day,
(And well remember it, you may)
When first your King receiv'd his Crown,
King Salomon, and 'twas his own,
Not of the Kingdom but of his Love;
And it the fairer Crow'n did prove.
From 'his Mothers Hands the joyful Son,
On 'his Nuptial Day receiv'd the Crown.
But such a Son, and such a Mother,
Vying Glories each with th' other,
And such a Crown, and such a Day,
When in chast Joys dissolv'd they lay,
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The happy Bridegroom, and the Bride,
And you, their Friends, on either side,
If once again you'd wish to see,
And greater Joys than those could be,
Come, and my greater SALOMON behold,
More glorious in his Love, than he in all his Gold.

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