Pia Desideria or, Divine Addresses, In Three Books. Illustrated with XLVII. Copper-Plates. Written in Latin by Herm. Hugo. Englished by Edm. Arwaker ... The Fourth Edition, Corrected |
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| VIII. | VIII. |
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| XIV. |
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 | Pia Desideria |  |
113
VIII.
Draw me, we will run after thee, (in the savour of thy Oyntments,)
Cant. I. 4.
See how my feeble Limbs, now giv'n in vain,
Increase the Burthen which they shou'd sustain!
While, weary of my hated Life, I lie,
A faint Resemblance of what once was I.
My Head, deprest with its one weight, hangs low,
And to themselves my Limbs a Burthen grow.
In various Postures still I seek for Ease,
But find at last not any one to please.
Now I wou'd rise, now wish my self in Bed,
Now with my Hands support my drooping Head:
Now on my Back, now on my Face I lie,
And now for Rest on either side I try:
And when my Bed I've tumbled Restless o're,
I'm still th'uneasie Wretch I was before.
Thus hinder'd by my own Infirmity,
Tho' fain I would, I cannot follow thee.
Then wilt thou go, and leave me Dying here?
Is this thy Kindness, this thy Love, my Dear;
And do I then so great a Burthen grow,
Thou wilt not stay till I can with thee go?
Thus Soldiers from their wounded Comrades fly
At an Allarm of any Danger nigh.
Unnat'ral Mothers thus their Babes disclaim,
Urg'd to the Sin by Poverty or Shame.
Stretch, Lord, thy Hand, and thy weak Follower meet,
Or if not reach thy Hand, yet stay thy Feet.
Increase the Burthen which they shou'd sustain!
While, weary of my hated Life, I lie,
A faint Resemblance of what once was I.
My Head, deprest with its one weight, hangs low,
And to themselves my Limbs a Burthen grow.
In various Postures still I seek for Ease,
But find at last not any one to please.
Now I wou'd rise, now wish my self in Bed,
Now with my Hands support my drooping Head:
Now on my Back, now on my Face I lie,
And now for Rest on either side I try:
And when my Bed I've tumbled Restless o're,
I'm still th'uneasie Wretch I was before.
Thus hinder'd by my own Infirmity,
Tho' fain I would, I cannot follow thee.
Then wilt thou go, and leave me Dying here?
Is this thy Kindness, this thy Love, my Dear;
And do I then so great a Burthen grow,
Thou wilt not stay till I can with thee go?
114
At an Allarm of any Danger nigh.
Unnat'ral Mothers thus their Babes disclaim,
Urg'd to the Sin by Poverty or Shame.
Stretch, Lord, thy Hand, and thy weak Follower meet,
Or if not reach thy Hand, yet stay thy Feet.
The grateful Stork bears o're the spacious Flood,
Its aged Dam, and Triumphs in the Load:
The Doe supports her tender Swimmers weight,
And minds her self less than her dearer Fraight.
Its aged Dam, and Triumphs in the Load:
The Doe supports her tender Swimmers weight,
And minds her self less than her dearer Fraight.
But you, unkind! forsake your Love, alone,
In desert Fields forgotten, and unknown,
So burthensom her Company is grown:
Yet I'd not hinder or retard your Haste,
But gently draw, and I shall follow fast:
Tho' fall'n and fainting now, a little space
Shall make me out-strip the Winds impetuous Race,
Nor shall you Violence need to force me on,
Free and unurg'd, I'll close behind you run.
As, when at your Command the Net was cast,
The willing Fish leapt in with eager haste;
And unconcern'd, their own Destruction sought,
So much 'twas their Ambition to be caught.
In desert Fields forgotten, and unknown,
So burthensom her Company is grown:
Yet I'd not hinder or retard your Haste,
But gently draw, and I shall follow fast:
Tho' fall'n and fainting now, a little space
Shall make me out-strip the Winds impetuous Race,
Nor shall you Violence need to force me on,
Free and unurg'd, I'll close behind you run.
As, when at your Command the Net was cast,
The willing Fish leapt in with eager haste;
And unconcern'd, their own Destruction sought,
So much 'twas their Ambition to be caught.
Pleasure and Sense do all Mankind misguide,
Some by their Eyes, some by their Ears are ty'd.
I seek not, Lord, my Eyes or Ears to please,
Th'Arabian Sweets sute best with my Disease.
Thy Tresses of the balmy Spiknard smell,
And from thy Head the richest Oyls distill.
Choice fragrant Scents from thy lov'd Temples flow,
And on thy Lips eternal Roses grow,
Thou breath'st the Odors of the Spicy East,
In Myrrhy Dew thy fragrant Words are drest.
Thy Iv'ry Neck sweats richest Frankincense,
And ev'ry part does some rare Scent dispence.
Whate'er Perfumes in the vast World are found,
In a rich Compound mix'd, in Thee abound.
Just such a noble Smell, and rich Perfume
Was that of old fill'd the blest Virgins Room,
When Thou, the Flow'r of Jesse , began'st to Bloom.
Some by their Eyes, some by their Ears are ty'd.
115
Th'Arabian Sweets sute best with my Disease.
Thy Tresses of the balmy Spiknard smell,
And from thy Head the richest Oyls distill.
Choice fragrant Scents from thy lov'd Temples flow,
And on thy Lips eternal Roses grow,
Thou breath'st the Odors of the Spicy East,
In Myrrhy Dew thy fragrant Words are drest.
Thy Iv'ry Neck sweats richest Frankincense,
And ev'ry part does some rare Scent dispence.
Whate'er Perfumes in the vast World are found,
In a rich Compound mix'd, in Thee abound.
Just such a noble Smell, and rich Perfume
Was that of old fill'd the blest Virgins Room,
When Thou, the Flow'r of Jesse , began'st to Bloom.
O! might this Odor bless my longing Sense,
How wou'd it cure my feeble Impotence!
I soon shou'd conquer all my Languishment,
And swiftly follow the attractive Scent,
And my Companions the same Course wou'd move,
As the whole Flock waits on th'anointed Dove.
How wou'd it cure my feeble Impotence!
I soon shou'd conquer all my Languishment,
And swiftly follow the attractive Scent,
And my Companions the same Course wou'd move,
As the whole Flock waits on th'anointed Dove.
Love is a Cord that holds fast, and draws Affectionately, whose Words are so many Allurements. Nothing holds faster than the Band of Love, nothing Attracts more powerfully.
Gilbert. in Cant. Hom. 18.
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