University of Virginia Library

DIALOGUE V.

Bridegroom, Bride, Daughters of Jerusalem.
BRIDEGROOM.
These fervent Wishes darted up by thee,
My Sister, O my Spouse, prevail'd with me;
And lo, to my fair Garden I am come,
I find it Fertile, and the fragrant Flow'rs
My Presence shall refresh with heav'nly Showers.
The Honey-Comb wrought by laborious Bees,
Honey and Wine refined on the Lees;
Wine mingl'd with the Milk; I've eat and drunk of these.
These noble Dainties do my Table grace,
Around the Banquet you my Friends I'll place.
Eat O beloved Friends, and thankful prove;
Lo here's your King, and here's your Feast of Love.
O drink, and on your Sovereign's Kindness think;
O my beloved Friends, it's I that bid you drink.

BRIDE.
Rock'd in the Cradle of tempestuous Cares
I sleept, and Satan sow'd my Field with Tares;
I drunk the Opiates of the World's Ease,
And streight, ah me! I'm lull'd a sleep with these:
Yet, when these downy Slumbers shut mine Eyes,
My Heart's awake, I hear the Bridgroom's Cries.
Sweet are the Invitations of my Lord,
“He knocks and cries, my Sister, O my Love,
“Open to me my undefiled Dove.
“Shall I not wake thee with my am'rous Songs,
“Do I not press my Suit, forget my Wrongs:
“Whilst Night doth thy Horrizon overspread,
“Thine Eyes are shut thou'rt streatch'd upon the Bed;
“Ev'n then I woo and Love harrangues do make,
“Repeat my Calls, and no Refusal take.
“I break thro' Midnight Shades and Storms for you,
“My Locks are wet (whilst I my Love pursue)
“With th'evn'ing Drops, my Head with morning Dew.
But my deceitful Heart was strongly bolt with Sin,
I hug'd my Idols, would not let him in.
My flaming Love was turn'd to Embers now,
No Corner of my Heart to him allow.
Impetuous Billows of Corruption rise,
Temptation's Voice doth drown my Saviour's Cries.
I yield to Lusts I formerly abhor'd,
Treach'rously frame Excuses to my Lord:
I've wash'd my Feet, to fit me for my Rest,
My visit Cloths are off, I am undress'd.
My Love was silent then, and spoke no more,
But by a secret Hole his Hand thrust thro' the Door:
He by his sovereign undiscovered Ways,
Fresh Gales of Grace to my dead Soul conveys.
He saw the Posture of my Sin-sick Soul,
And fir'd my dead Heart with an Altar Coal.
Quickly I rise, for I can sleep no more,
To introduce my Lover from the Door;
My Hands drop Myrrh, when to my Love I go
Sweet smelling Myrrh my Fingers overflow,
Upon the Handles of the Lock they drop,
When I did open to my Joy and Hope
I open'd wide my Heart to him: But he,
To shew his Anger, had withdrawn from me.
My vile Ungratitude now I bewail,
I faint with Anguish, and my Soul doth fail:
I offer Vows, but he no Vows would have:
Loudly I cry'd, and he no Answer gave:
All Means I try, and try them all in vain,
He frowns and flies, and wont return again.
The Watchmen, who directed me before,
And gave me healing Balsoms for my Sore,
Prove bad Comforters; they increase my Smart,
And smite and wound me to the very Heart.
The Keepers of the Walls no Cure affords;
I'm kill'd and not comforted with their Words;
They tell what I'm unwilling to confess,
Unvail me to expose my Nakedness.
O Daughters of Jerus'lem, if you find
My Dear, my Well-belov'd, bid him be kind:
O tell him that I dwine and pine with Love,
I charge you that my Suit to him you move.

DAUGHTERS of JERUSALEM.
O thou the fairest among Womenkind,
Who is this Well-belov'd you long to find?
Doth he so far excell whom we do Love?
Can you in him peculiar Beauties prove?
What is your Well-belov'd you long to see?
Can he surpass all others, who is he?
Why charge you us, this Lover for to find?
How can he be so good, yet so unkind?

Bride.
What do you ask? what Ignorance is this?
Do you enquire what my Beloved is?
He's white and ruddy, fair beyond Belief,
Amongst Ten thousand Beauties he's the Chief,
His Beauties singular, it can't be told,
His Head shines brighter than the purest-Gold;
The Church's Head, whom all with Love behold.
His bushy Locks of Hair, the Church's Net,
Is thick and long, and like the Raven Jet.
His Eyes, which quickly thro' the World roves,
Are pure and gentle, like the Eyes of Doves.
As Doves Eyes wash'd in Streams of Milk do look,
Whil'st they on sunny Bank sit beeking by the Brook,
That's full of sprightly Vigor fitly set,
Sparkling with Fire, and of a lovely Jet:
So look these Eyes of his, these lovely Eyes,
In which a thousand Charms and Beauty lies.
As op'ning Flowers look in their vernal Airs;
And Beds of Spice, which gay Enamel wears;
So looks his Cheeks, when he to me appears.
His Lips, like Lillies shaking with the Dew,
Dropt with sweet smelling Myrrh, his Love to shew.
As Gold Rings set with Beryl is his Hands,
Which Wonders works, and all the World commands:
Than Gold Rings set with Beryl far more bright;
When they're display'd, they dazle humane Sight;
Confound his Foes, and teach his Friends to fight.
His Belly, whence the Church doth draw her Aid,
Like Iv'ry bright, with Saphires overlaid.
His Legs, which in the Paths of Truth do go,
Are swift to bless, and to destroy are slow:
Like Marble Pillars socketed with Gold,
They're strong, well shap'd, and beautious to behold.
His stately Steps are in his Temple shown,
Yet not to all; 'tis only to his own.
'Twas there his Goings I was won't to see;
But Sin hath drawn the Vail, 'twixt him and me.
His Countenance like Lebanon is fair,
Excellent like the lofty Cedars there.
O sweet beyond Expression is his Mouth:
He's altogether lovely, full of Truth.
Thus faintly I've describ'd him, whom I love;
A Theme too high for all the Quires above.
This is my Friend, now do you not approve,
O Daughters of Jerusalem, my Love.