The works of Alexander Pennecuik of New-Hall, M.D.; containing the description of Tweeddale, and miscellaneous poems. A new edition, with copious notes, forming a complete history of the county to the present time. To which are prefixed, memoirs of Dr Pennecuik, and a map of the shire of Peebles, or Tweeddale |
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A PARAPHRASE UPON THE LAST SIX VERSES OF THE FOURTH CHAPTER OF THE CANTICLES, OR SONG OF SONGS. |
 | The works of Alexander Pennecuik |  |
A PARAPHRASE UPON THE LAST SIX VERSES OF THE FOURTH CHAPTER OF THE CANTICLES, OR SONG OF SONGS.
Verse 11.—
My Spouse,
From thy sweet lips, that hungry souls doth fill,
Perpetual drops of honey doth distil,
And Canaan's blessings glide beneath thy tongue,
Ev'n milk and honey to refresh thy young.
Thy perfumed garments drooping souls revives
And smells breathe forth, such smells as Leb'non gives
When gentle zephyrs fan the new blown leaves.
Perpetual drops of honey doth distil,
And Canaan's blessings glide beneath thy tongue,
Ev'n milk and honey to refresh thy young.
Thy perfumed garments drooping souls revives
And smells breathe forth, such smells as Leb'non gives
When gentle zephyrs fan the new blown leaves.
12.
As boldest hands can never reach a cup,From fountains that are seal'd, or springs shut up,
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No stragglers with her streams comforted be,
A spring shut up, a fountain seal'd, is she,
But all her currents flow to saints and me.
13 & 14.
Thy blooming plants a fruitful soil declare,They thrive with vigour in a wholesome air,
My grace, convey'd by thee, makes all thy plants look fair.
There like an orchard thicketted with trees,
Where various kinds salute th'enamoured eyes,
There camphire, pomegranates, and aloes grow,
Saffron, myrrh, calamus, and spikenards flow;
There incense trees, and chiefest spices bloom,
Which fann'd with quick'ning gales send forth a rich perfume.
15.
Thy orchards plants all others far excel,Your orchards watered with salvation's well;
Thy garden's full of fountains never dry,
Which thy fair plants with vital strength supply;
Through it a well of living waters go,
That springs from Leb'non streams, and doth the banks o'erflow.
16.
Awake, O north wind! O thou south wind! blowCool gales upon my spices, and they'll flow!
I'll my beloved in his garden meet,
There we'll solace ourselves, and pleasant fruits we'll eat.
| The works of Alexander Pennecuik | |