Streams from Helicon :: :: University of Virginia Library

O Jesus give my Lips a melting Kiss,
'Twill be a pledge of Love, and endless Bless;
The Kisses of thy Lips gives Joy divine,
Thy Love is sweeter to my Taste than Wine.
How sweet a Flavour doth thy Ointments yield,
They're odorif'rous like a balmy Field;

101

Vials full of Odours is thy Name,
Such Virgin Soul dwells on the lovely Theme;
They give a loose to Love, and sing with ardent Flame.
Draw me, O draw me, after thee we'll go;
Swift as on Bethar's Mountains skips the Roe.

Now to his royal Gall'ries I repair,
The King of Love and Glory leads me there;
Our Hearts do burn when to his Courts we move,
With this blest Vision every Pulse beats Love.
We'll sing his Praises with a tunefull Note,
Can such amazing Love be e'er forgot:
The upright Saints have a perpetual Feast,
Christ's Love doth warm the consecrated Breast.
The richest Wine jejune and tastless grows,
Compar'd with Love, which in our Bosom flows.

O Zion's Daughters, swarthy is my Skin,
Dy'd with the ugly Leprosie of Sin;
Yet there's the brightest Figures in my Face,
The Characters of evangelick Grace.
Like Kedar's Tents, the Sun hath scorch'd my Face,
Yet am I glorious with the Rays of Grace.
The costly Arras from a Tyrian Loom,
Which doth adorn the King of Israel's Room,
These Curtains which his downy Bed doth grace,
Hath no such lively Figure as my Face:
Tho Black, let me not be despis'd by you,
I know I'm jested by a scoffing Crew.

102

Not Aliens, but my bosom Friends were those,
Who 'gainst me in sharp Persecution rose;
My Mother's Children were my keenest Foes.
Those blood Relations falsely did agree,
That I the Keeper of the Vineyard be;
I by their impious Hands was drag'd away,
To toil and drudge, and slavishly obey;
Ah! I was foolish, faithful to my Trust,
To manage theirs, I left my own undress'd.

Tell me my Love, tell me my Soul's Delight,
Where rests thy Flock at Noon, where fold at Night;
O my fair Guardian! lead me to the Shade,
Shall I thou loves, like Stranger be misled?

BRIDEGROOM:

If you, O fairest amongst Womenkind,
Have not the Art my little Flock to find;
Follow the Footsteps of the wandring Train,
And let your tender Kids with them remain:
My Pastors shall with wholesome Herbage feed
Your Flocks, and them thro' ev'ry Danger lead.

To Steeds which Pharoah's Chariots swiftly move,
For Strength and Beauty I've compar'd my Love:
Thy Cheeks adorn'd with Jewels my Heart doth hold,
Thy Iv'ry Neck shines bright with Chains of Gold.

BRIDE.

Borders of purest flaming Gold will we
With Studs of Silver offer unto thee.

103

Whilst at his Table sits my Saviour King
Enthron'd in Majesty: The blooming Spring
Decked with all its Tapastries bestows
No such comforting Smells, as from my Spiknard flows.
Bundles of new pluck'd Myrrh most sav'ry are,
But my dear Lord's perfumes excells them far,
Burning with Love I'll fly to his sweet Arms,
And faint beneath the overpowering Charms:
Autumnal smells of fair Engedy's Fields,
Which choicest Camphyre in abundance yields,
Is no such Cordial; no, it cannot be,
As is my dear Beloved unto me.

BRIDEGROOM.
Love can't be Silent, I must own you're Fair,
There's none on Earth who can with you compare,
Behold thou'rt Fair! much of thy Beauty lyes,
In thy meek, modest, lovely Dove-like Eyes.

BRIDE.
O my Beloved's Match was never seen!
Come, and Solace upon this Bed of Green:
Spread o'er my Head a Canopy of Love,
For thou'rt the Grace, yea Glory of the Grove;
Thy presence makes the Shade to look like Kedar,
Its Rafters are of Fir, its Beams are Cedar.