University of Virginia Library

VII. CANTICLES VII. XI.

Come my beloved, let us goe forth into the fields, and let us remaine in the villages.

Christ. Soule.
Christ:
Come, come, my deare, and let us both retire
And whiffe the dainties of the fragrant fields:
Where warbling Phil'mel and the shrill-mouth'd Quire
Chaunt forth their raptures; where the Turtle builds
Her lonely nest; and where the new-borne Bryer
Breaths forth the sweetnesse that her Aprill yeelds:
Come, come, my lovely faire, and let us try
These rurall delicates; where thou and I
May melt in private flames, and feare no stander by.

Soule:
My hearts eternall Joy, in lieu of whom
The earth's a blast, and all the world, a Buble;
Our Citie-mansion is the fairer Home,
But Country-sweets are tang'd with lesser Trouble;
Let's try them both, and choose the better; Come;
A change in pleasure makes the pleasure double:
On thy Commands depends my Goe, or Tarie;
Ile stirre with Martha; or Ile stay with Marie:
Our hearts are firmly fixt, although our pleasures varie.

Christ:
Our Country-Mansion (situate on high)
With various Objects, still renewes delight;
Her arched Roofe's of unstain'd Ivory;
Her wals of fiery-sparkling Chrysolite;
Her pavement is of hardest Porphery;
Her spacious windowes are all glaz'd with bright
And flaming Carbuncles; no need require
Titans faint rayes, or Vulcans feeble fire;
And ev'ry Gate's a Pearle; and ev'ry Pearle, entire.

Soule:
Foole, that I was! how were my thought deceiv'd!
How falsly was my fond conceit possest!
I tooke it for an Hermitage, but pav'd
And daub'd with neighbring dirt, and thatch'd at best;
Alas, I nev'r expected more, nor crav'd;
A Turtle hop'd but for a Turtles nest:
Come, come, my deare, and let no idle stay
Neglect th'advantage of the head-strong day;
How pleasure grates, that feeles the Curb of dull delay!

Christ:

Soule:
And in thine Armes Ile tell my passion story:

Christ:
O there Ile crowne thy head with all my Graces;

Soule:
And all those Graces shall reflect thy Glory;

Christ:
O there, Ile feed thee with celestiall Manna;
Ile be thy Elkanah.

Soule:
And I thy Hanna.

Christ:
Ile sound my Trump of Joy.

Soule:
And Ile resound Hosanna.

S. BERN.

O blessed Contemplation! The death of vices, and the life of virtues! Thee the Law and Prophets admire: Who ever attain'd perfection, if not by Thee! O blessed solitude, the Magazine of celestiall Treasure: by thee things earthly, and transitory, are chang'd into heavenly, and eternall.

S. BERN. in Ep.

Happy is that house, and blessed is that Congregation, where Martha still complaines of Mary.

EPIGRAM 7.

[Mechanick soule; thou must not only doe]

Mechanick soule; thou must not only doe
With Martha; but, with Mary, ponder too:
Happy's that house, where these faire sisters vary;
But most, when Martha's reconcil'd to Mary.