The history of The Old Testament In verse With One Hundred and Eighty sculptures: In Two Volumes. Vol. I. From the Creation to the Revolt of the Ten Tribes from the House of David. Vol. II. From that Revolt to the End of the Prophets. Written by Samuel Wesley ... The Cuts done by J. Sturt |
 | I, II. |
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| XXX. |
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| LXXX. |
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| LXXXVII. |
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| CXXXIX. |
| CXXX. |
| CXXXI. |
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| CXXXVII. |
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| CL. |
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| CLIV. |
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| CLVIII. |
| CLIX. |
| CLX. |
| CLXI. |
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| CLXV. |
| CLXVI. |
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| CLXIX. |
| CLXX. |
| CLXXI. |
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| CLXXIII. |
| CLXXIV. |
| CLXXV. |
| CLXXVI. |
| CLXXVII. |
| CLXXVIII. |
| CLXXIX. |
| CLXXX. |
| CLXXXI. |
| CLXXXII. |
| CLXXXIII. |
| CLXXXIV. |
| CLXXXV. |
| CLXXXVI. |
| CLXXXVII. |
| CLXXXVIII. |
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| CCXI. |
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| CCXV. |
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| CCXVIII. |
| CCXIX. |
| CCXX. |
| CCXXI. |
| CCXXII. |
 | CCXXIII. |
| CCXXIV. |
| CCXXV. |
| CCXXVI. |
| CCXXVII. |
| CCXXVIII. |
| CCXXIX. |
| CCXXX. |
| CCXXXI. | CCXXXI. Canticles, Chap. II. |
| CCXXXII. |
| CCXXXIII. |
| CCXXXIV. |
| CCXXXV. |
| CCXXXVI. |
| CCXXXVII. |
| CCXXXVIII. |
| CCXXXIX. |
| CCXL. |
| CCXLI. |
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| CCXLIX. |
| CCL. |
| CCLI. |
| CCLII. |
| CCLIII. |
| CCLIV. |
| CCLV. |
| CCLVI. |
| CCLVII. |
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| CCLXV. |
| CCLXVI. |
| CCLXVII. |
 | The history of The Old Testament In verse |  |
CCXXXI. Canticles, Chap. II.
I am the Rose of Sharon's lovely Dale,
The snowy Lily that adorns the Vale:
And as th'unsulli'd Lilies Beauty shows,
Which in a Brake of churlish Brambles grows;
So shines my spotless Love, beyond compare,
So she the fairest Thing of all that's Fair.
The snowy Lily that adorns the Vale:
And as th'unsulli'd Lilies Beauty shows,
Which in a Brake of churlish Brambles grows;
So shines my spotless Love, beyond compare,
So she the fairest Thing of all that's Fair.
As blushing Apples in the Garden rise,
And gain from every Rival Fruit the Prize;
So he I love (how bless'd if lov'd agen!)
Is fairer far than all the Sons of Men.
How vast my Bliss when safe beneath his Shade!
No Sun cou'd reach me there, no Storms invade:
I reach'd the bending Fruit with eager haste,
Of heav'nly Odor, of Ambrosial Taste:
He brought me to his Banquet, richly spread,
Love his triumphant Banner o're my Head.
O give me Air! those kind, those killing Eyes remove!
A Cordial give with speed! I faint, I die for Love!
His Left beneath my drooping Head was plac'd,
And with his kind Right-Hand he me embrac'd.
And gain from every Rival Fruit the Prize;
So he I love (how bless'd if lov'd agen!)
Is fairer far than all the Sons of Men.
How vast my Bliss when safe beneath his Shade!
No Sun cou'd reach me there, no Storms invade:
I reach'd the bending Fruit with eager haste,
Of heav'nly Odor, of Ambrosial Taste:
He brought me to his Banquet, richly spread,
Love his triumphant Banner o're my Head.
O give me Air! those kind, those killing Eyes remove!
A Cordial give with speed! I faint, I die for Love!
550
And with his kind Right-Hand he me embrac'd.
Ye Virgins, stay! nor with officious Haste
Disturb my Love's Repose, indulge his Ease,
Nor break his Slumbers till himself he please!
Disturb my Love's Repose, indulge his Ease,
Nor break his Slumbers till himself he please!
'Tis He, 'tis He—that dear-lov'd Voice I hear,
My busie Heart fore-told my Love was near:
The craggy Hills in vain his Course wou'd stay,
The cloudy Mountains can't obstruct his Way:
A Roe or Hart his beauteous Feet excel,
For Love can draw more swift than Fear compel.
My busie Heart fore-told my Love was near:
The craggy Hills in vain his Course wou'd stay,
The cloudy Mountains can't obstruct his Way:
A Roe or Hart his beauteous Feet excel,
For Love can draw more swift than Fear compel.
And must I (can I?) wish his Presence more?
What need of Art where all was His before?
He near some ruin'd Wall in ambush lies,
And half is seen, and half himself denies:
I heard his Voice, tho' still his Face he hides,
And thro' my secret Soul each charming Accent glides.
Arise my Love! my Fair, and come away!
A Love like mine admits of no Delay!
The stormy Winter's Rage at length is o're,
And Heav'ns sweet Face is veil'd in Clouds no more.
Soft vernal Air the gentle Pleiads bring,
The gentle Pleiads warn the welcom Spring:
The Flow'rs around the painted Fields appear,
Nor more the burning Frost and envious Winter fear.
The Birds in Pairs sit warbling in their Throats,
How wild, how charming all their mingled Notes!
The murm'ring Turtle on the Green-wood Spray,
Courts his chast Mate, upbraiding our Delay.
The struggling Buds from Nature's Store-house come,
Distend their pregnant Gems, and crowd for room:
The Vines revive, their tender Grapes appear,
And promise Blessings to the rising Year:
Native Perfumes uncall'd the Sense delight,
And Odour rivals hearing and the sight.
Were these but known, How would'st thou blame thy stay?
Arise, my Love, my Fair, and come away!
In secret Shades indulge soft Rest no more!
The Morning calls, we'll trace the Mountains o're;
Thro' Hills and Dales, a long and cheerful Chace,
Pursue the Fox with all his prolling Race:
For all their nightly Thefts they now shall pay,
For brouzing all our tender Vines by Day.
What need of Art where all was His before?
He near some ruin'd Wall in ambush lies,
And half is seen, and half himself denies:
I heard his Voice, tho' still his Face he hides,
And thro' my secret Soul each charming Accent glides.
Arise my Love! my Fair, and come away!
A Love like mine admits of no Delay!
The stormy Winter's Rage at length is o're,
And Heav'ns sweet Face is veil'd in Clouds no more.
Soft vernal Air the gentle Pleiads bring,
The gentle Pleiads warn the welcom Spring:
The Flow'rs around the painted Fields appear,
Nor more the burning Frost and envious Winter fear.
551
How wild, how charming all their mingled Notes!
The murm'ring Turtle on the Green-wood Spray,
Courts his chast Mate, upbraiding our Delay.
The struggling Buds from Nature's Store-house come,
Distend their pregnant Gems, and crowd for room:
The Vines revive, their tender Grapes appear,
And promise Blessings to the rising Year:
Native Perfumes uncall'd the Sense delight,
And Odour rivals hearing and the sight.
Were these but known, How would'st thou blame thy stay?
Arise, my Love, my Fair, and come away!
In secret Shades indulge soft Rest no more!
The Morning calls, we'll trace the Mountains o're;
Thro' Hills and Dales, a long and cheerful Chace,
Pursue the Fox with all his prolling Race:
For all their nightly Thefts they now shall pay,
For brouzing all our tender Vines by Day.
I come, I come! I know thy Heart is mine
Thou dearer than my Soul, and all my Soul is thine.
Cover'd with Lilies in the Woods he lay,
By his own Light disclos'd, and fairer far than they:
—Behold the beauteous Morn! behold the rising Day!
From Hill to Hill the trembling Shadows run,
Nor can they bear the Light of such a Sun.
Make haste my Love! with all thy Joys appear!
Nor leave me to despair and languish here!
Swift as the Roe-buck which out-strips the Wind,
Swift as the Royal Hart, when the hot Chace behind.
Thou dearer than my Soul, and all my Soul is thine.
Cover'd with Lilies in the Woods he lay,
By his own Light disclos'd, and fairer far than they:
—Behold the beauteous Morn! behold the rising Day!
552
Nor can they bear the Light of such a Sun.
Make haste my Love! with all thy Joys appear!
Nor leave me to despair and languish here!
Swift as the Roe-buck which out-strips the Wind,
Swift as the Royal Hart, when the hot Chace behind.
| The history of The Old Testament In verse | |