Streams from Helicon Or, Poems On Various Subjects. In Three Parts. By Alexander Pennecuik ... The Second Edition. Enter'd in Stationer's Hall |
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 | Streams from Helicon |  |
Unto the learn'd and pious Paraphraser of the Canticles, AND Author of the following sacred Composures.
Thou
, heavenly Bard, despising earthly Things,
The Nuptials of the Royal Bridegroom sings:
Thy Soul with eager Flight doth soar above,
Whil'st warbling forth Believers Songs of Love.
Thy Breast is warm'd with a seraphick Fire,
Chanting these Notes which heavenly Thoughts inspire:
These precious Truths, which Saints of God do know,
In melting Numbers from thy Mouth doth flow.
The Nuptials of the Royal Bridegroom sings:
Thy Soul with eager Flight doth soar above,
Whil'st warbling forth Believers Songs of Love.
Thy Breast is warm'd with a seraphick Fire,
Chanting these Notes which heavenly Thoughts inspire:
These precious Truths, which Saints of God do know,
In melting Numbers from thy Mouth doth flow.
Tho' blinded Men loath the ambrosial Food,
And mock the Saints, the Men of Royal Blood;
Burlesque their Secret and their solemn Prayer,
And jest the meagre Man, turn'd lean with holy Care!
Think Gladness ends, when Holiness begins,
And they're divorc'd from Joy who leave their Sins.
'Tis foolish Fancy, Pleasure is not lest;
No Joy like joying in the Holy Ghost:
Saints are not sowr, and sullen all their Days,
But swell'd with inward Joy their Voices raise;
And loudly echo forth their dear Redeemer's Praise.
Sometimes 'tis true, when Sin prevails they're sad,
When the kind Father frowns, can loving Sons be glad:
But Sense of Pardon from a God ere long,
Succeeds and gives new Matter of a Song.
And mock the Saints, the Men of Royal Blood;
Burlesque their Secret and their solemn Prayer,
And jest the meagre Man, turn'd lean with holy Care!
Think Gladness ends, when Holiness begins,
And they're divorc'd from Joy who leave their Sins.
'Tis foolish Fancy, Pleasure is not lest;
No Joy like joying in the Holy Ghost:
Saints are not sowr, and sullen all their Days,
But swell'd with inward Joy their Voices raise;
And loudly echo forth their dear Redeemer's Praise.
When the kind Father frowns, can loving Sons be glad:
But Sense of Pardon from a God ere long,
Succeeds and gives new Matter of a Song.
Zion's bright Bard, Love doth thy Pen employ,
Spiritual Love, that Love which cannot cloy;
Thou Ditties gives, and chearful Songs of Joy.
Happy Translator of the sacred Page,
Thou surely felt the Prophet's holy Rage;
O don't stop here, great Poet, let us see,
The Oracles of God all paraphras'd by thee.
Spiritual Love, that Love which cannot cloy;
Thou Ditties gives, and chearful Songs of Joy.
Happy Translator of the sacred Page,
Thou surely felt the Prophet's holy Rage;
O don't stop here, great Poet, let us see,
The Oracles of God all paraphras'd by thee.
J. G. P. S. D.
| Streams from Helicon | |