A paraphrase upon the canticles :: :: University of Virginia Library

A paraphrase upon the canticles

and some select hymns of the New and Old Testament, with other occasional compositions in English verse. By Samuel Woodford

Woodford, Samuel (1636-1700)

[dedication]

[section]

Upon a Paraphrase of Salomon's Song, Done by his Worthy Friend, Dr. Samuel Woodford.

ODE. To his Honoured Friend Dr. Woodford, On his Excellent Paraphrase of SALOMON'S SONG.

To my dear Old Friend, the Reverend Dr. Samuel Woodford, On his Sacred Rimes.

A PARAPHRASE ON THE Canticles, In English Rhythms.

[preface]

ΠΡΟ' ΑΣΜΑ.

Cap. I. CANTICUM Canticorum Salomonis. DIVINI AMORIS ECSTASIS Quæ & PROTASIS.

II.

Cap. II. EVOCATIO SPONSÆ.

III.

CAP. III. DOLOR DE ABSENTIA SPONSI. EPITASIS.

[epigraph]

[section]

CHORUS Amicorum Sponsi.

SPONSA.

IV.

Cap. IV. CATASTASIS. DESIDERIUM.

CHORUS Filiarum Hierosolymitanarum.

VI.

CHORUS Mulierum ê Gentibus.

SPONSA Sola.

CHORUS Mulierum ê Gentibus.

VII.

VIII.

ΕΠΩΔΗ THE LEGEND OF LOVE

To the Muse, ODE PINDARIC.

To the Right Reverend FATHER IN GOD, SETH Lord Bishop of SARUM.

A PARAPHRASE UPON Some Select HYMNS OF THE New and Old TESTAMENT, With some other Occasional Compositions IN English RIMES.

The VI great HYMNS of St. LUKE.

I. HYMN. The ANGELS Salutation.

II.

II. HYMN. The Salutation of ELIZABETH.

III.

III. HYMN. The Song of the BLESSED VIRGIN.

IV.

IV. HYMN. The Song of ZACHARIAS.

V. HYMN. The ANGELIC Hymn.

VI.

VI. HYMN. The Song of SIMEON.

Comiato.

The VIII Great HYMNS of the Apocalyps.

I. HYMN. The Adoration of the XXIV ELDERS.

II.

II. HYMN. The Acclamation of Heaven, upon MICHAEL's overthrow of the Dragon and his Angels.

III.

III. HYMN. The Happy Dead.

IV.

IV. HYMN. The Song of MOSES and of the LAMB.

V. HYMN. The Angel of the Waters Lauds.

VI.

VI. HYMN. The holy Company of Heaven rejoycing at the overthrow of BABYLON.

III.

III

IV.

VII.

VII. HYMN. Epithalamium on the LAMBS Marriage.

VIII.

VIII. HYMN. The Exultation of Heaven, at the Descent of the New JERUSALEM.

Our Blessed Lord's Thanksgiving.

Ode. The Song of DEBORA.

[section]

II.

III.

IV.

VI.

VII.

VIII.

IX.

XI.

Comiato.

David's ELEGY Upon the death of Saul and Jonathan.

DAVID's Thansgiving and Prayer.

The last words of DAVID.

The Song of HEZEKIAH.

Three Psalms according to the old Version, and Meeter, ordinarily used in Churches, a little alter'd.

Job cursing his Birth.

The Prayer of HABAKKUK.

[section]

II.

III.

IV.

VI.

VII.

VIII.

IX.

XI.

Comiato

OCCASIONAL RIMES.

The Saying of CLEANTHES.

Upon a terrible Storm of Thunder, Wind, and Rain, 25 July 1670, done by Night in the midst of it.

An Extasie of Divine Love.

The Flight.

An Hymn and Prayer, To the Holy JESUS my Lord.

An HYMN for Vespers.

LENT.

The Song of the ANGELS,

Deo Opt. Max. S.

ODE.

[section]

II.

III.

IV.

VI.

VII.

Comiato.

ODE.

[section]

II.

III.

IV.

VI.

VII.

Comiato.

Sonnet of the same.

ODE.

II.

III.

III

IV.

VI.

VII.

VII

VIII.

VIII

IX.

XI.

II.

III.

IV.

VI.

VII.

Comiato.

SONNET.

SONNET, To the same Purpose.

SONNET.

St. Paul done by Titian.

To the Honourable Sir JOHN DENHAM, upon his New Version of the Psalms.

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A PARAPHRASE ON THE Canticles, In English Rhythms.

Το Μυστηριον τουτο μεγα εστιν, εγω δε
λεγω εις Χριστον, [] εις τ[] Εκκλησιαν.
V. Ad Ephesios, 32.

Ο αναγινωσκων νοειτω. xxiv. Matth. 15.

PERSONÆ.

SPONSA.
SPONSUS.
CHORI tres.
Primus AMICORUM SPONSI.
Alter FILIARUM HIEROSOLYMITANARUM.
Tertius MULIERUMèGENTIBUS.

ΠΡΟ' ΑΣΜΑ.

I

Avoid Prophane, avoid! for such as you
There is no place, or listning here;
They're Mysteries, which we sing, and but a few
Receive them with a well-purg'd ear:
To all beside of love they sound,
Mock-love, that does from every Hill rebound,
And is no Virgin, when the painted Eccho's found.

II

A Female Love that is, by a truer name
Lust obscene, and dalliance call'd;
For whom th' unhappy wretch, who has a flame,
To fires of his own kindling's hal'd:
Yet such an Empire has she gain'd,
So universal, and so well maintain'd,
That Verse, as well as Men, she'has to'her service train'd.

III

Ah Verse, that e're thou shouldst be thus abus'd,
That thus thy self thou shouldst abuse!
The Devil, thy enemy, wisht thee ne'r worse us'd,

Than thou thy self, thy self dost use:
Quit, quit, thy Chains, er'e 'tis too late,
At length return to thy' unimprov'd estate,
Lawrels yet grow at th' Altar, where thou first didst wait!

IV

Lawrels there grow, and there's a Love Divine,
Which will compleatly fill Thy Song;
A Love that's Heav'n-born, truly Masculine,
From whom thou' hast banisht been too long:
Only return'd, this caution take,
As solemn as thou canst new homage make,
Both for Thine own defence, & Thy chast follow'rs sake!

V

And thou, my LIEGE, bright and immortal LOVE,
Who er'e Thou mortal Flesh didst take,
Descending from Thy azure Throne above,
An Image of Thy self didst make,
In which soft thoughts thou didst inspire,
And threw'st large portions of æthereal Fire,
To consecrate the shrine, where Thou wouldst in time retire;

VI

Thou, who e're made Man, wouldst as Man be known,
And transports infinite to' express,
Sustaind'st a part, which was no more thine own,
Than as each greater holds its less,
Wouldst love, and as a Lover sue,
In Words, and Acts, as Mortal Lovers do,
And thus THY SELF, thus thy BELOVED to us shew:

VII

Shewing us thus, as we could it conceive,
What had from Ages hidden lain,
The Glorys Thou designd'st Thy SPOUSE to give,
And what to 'effect them was thy pain,
Flesh of our Flesh, Bone of our Bone,
Pure GOD, and perfect MAN, in person One,
The' Great-grand-sires Father, and his Virgin daughters Son:

VIII

In Thine own Words this Myst'ry to unfold,
Or still to fold it, guide my Verse;
Inspire me, as Thou Salomon didst of old,
That I the Wonder may rehearse:
And when of Love the terms I use,
(Thy self its softest terms didst not refuse)
The softest to me' indite, the chastest for me chuse!

IX

Make my Verse soft, but make it chast withal,
These are the Beauties I desire,
Witness Thy self, whom I the Witness call,
How pure, and earthless is my Fire:
That pure, and earthless it may shine,
Reader, and Writer from all dross refine,
And Thine own Image stamp for'ts guard, on Thine own Coyn!

Cap. I. CANTICUM Canticorum Salomonis. DIVINI AMORIS ECSTASIS Quæ & PROTASIS.

SPONSA. SPONSUS.

SPONSA.

Osculetur me osculo.

Sponsa.

I

False Glozing World, in vain
Juices and Herbs for me Thou dost compound;
Juices and Herbs, which ne'r can ease my pain,
Or heal an inward bleeding Wound:
With love (alas!) I'm pierc't to th' heart,
Beyond Thy skill, or helpless Physicks art.

II

Come then, thou heav'nly LOVE,
And with Thee thine own sov'raign Med'cine bring:
Come! and the cause of all my griefs remove,
That I Thy mighty praise may sing:
Ah! put Thy sacred Lips to mine,
And let's mix souls, as we chast Kisses joyn!

III

Dear Kiss! how sweet it was!
Above those Spirits, which gen'rous wines exhale;
Like perfume how it fill'd the ambient space,
And in its passage ravisht all,
Virgins, who but Spectators came:
Sweet are Thy kisses LOVE; sweeter Thy Name.

IV

Only to see my LORD
They came, but now like me are all on fire;
Draw me, O, draw me by Thy pow'rful Word,
One pace shall shew our joynt desire:
Both they, and I will follow Thee,
And Thy unransom'd Captives ever be.

V

Thy Love at length, blest King,
Where all her fears may have an happy end,
Into thy Nuptial Chamber please to bring,
Where we Thy praises may intend,
And firmly of Thy self possest,
Our Mouths with singing fill, with joy our Breast!

VI

With songs Our Mouths We'll fill,
And to exalt Thy Glories never cease;
The Od'rous dews, which from Our Lips distil,
Shall give Thy Land a rich encrease:
Above all Wines Thy Love wee'll raise,
And just Men with us shall record Thy praise.

VII

I'm black, 'tis true, but so,
Fair Daughters of Jerus'lem, as the Tents
Of Sun-burnt Arabs, humble, dark, and low,
But full of Regal Ornaments;
Or as those Curtains Salomon
Draws to conceal from vulgar sight his Throne.

VIII

Unjust you 're to despise
A Face, which only wants your beaut'ous Charms;
My Country Sun (alas!) has stain'd my Eyes,
And robb'd them of so potent Arms:
From his too near approach I took
What thus you gaze at, my discolour'd look.

IX

My Mothers Sons beside,
Careless what burden they on me did lay,
And angry too, to' a Vineyards scorching side,
Bound my attendance every day:
Their Vines too' unfit to keep, when my' own,
With weeds, for want of dressing, were o'regrown.

X

Dear LOVE, by whom I'm freed
And to a nobler Service now design'd,
Tell me, O tell me, where Thy Flocks do feed,
And what cool shades, at Noon they find;
Why should I from Thee go away,
And to the Tents of other Shepherds stray?

SPONSUS.

Si ignoras te, O Pulcherrima.

Sponsus.

I

Fairest of Women, beaut'ous Shepherdess,
If hitherto Thou hast not known
What walks thy Faithful Shepherd does possess,
And where my Flocks find shade at Noon,
This narrow Tract, will to our Sheepcots lead,
Where thy Kids may securely rest, and safely feed.

II

But, ah, how ill with simple Swains agree
Those beauties, which are all Divine?
Pharao in triumph born, compar'd to thee,
Does with unequal glory shine;
And tho exalted in his Chariot high,
With more of pomp, wants of thy real Majesty.

III

To those, who need them, Chains and Bracelets leave,
My Love has beauties of her own;
Beauties, which no advance from Art receive,
Nor owe their flame to' a sparkling stone:
For when these Ornaments she please to wear,
Jewels take lustre from her Eyes, gold from her Hair.

IV

Enough 'tis that she any place will yield,
Near her, for things I've common made,
As flints ith' City, and as grass ith' Field,
And with them deigns to be array'd:
Tho at her feet the rich Embrodery,
Low as the Earth its bed, worn in her Train does ly.

SPONSA.

Dum esset Rex in accubitu suo.

Sponsa.

I

My LOVE, my King, when from thy Fold
Return'd, Thou shalt with me sit down,
The Pris'ner in my Arms I'll hold,
And his Head with Spik-nard crown:
He 'twixt my Breasts shall sleep all Night,
And flames inspire pure as the Mid-day light.

II

The spicy East, Father of Gums,
Deserves not to be nam'd with Thee,
From whom his Myrrh, and Virtue comes,
Thy self the true Myrrh-bleeding Tree:
Engaddis Camphire, when it blows,
Near Thee does all its scent, and spirits lose.

SPONSUS.

Ecce tu Pulchra es amica.

Sponsus.
Worthy my Love, how art thou fair,
Beyond what mortal Women are!
Chast, and inno'cent, as a Dove,
Full of mild, and spotless love,
And from whose Eyes a ray does shine,
Than Doves more bright, and as Thine own Divine.

SPONSA.

Ecce tu Pulcher es Dilecte.

Sponsa.
Not I, t'is Thou, my LOVE, art fair
Bright as the Sons of Heaven are;
And those perfections Thou giv'st me,
Are what I first receiv'd from Thee,
In whom, as in their true Original they be.
Come then, my HEART, lo, all around,
With Greens our Bed, with Flow'rs I've strew'd the ground!

Come, let us sit down, and beguile,
Unmist the weary Hours a-while;
And when the Night recals us home,
T'our Cedar Palace we will come,
And of each others Love possest,
With jealous boadings unopprest,
On beds of Iv'ry take our chast and welcome rest.

Cap. II. EVOCATIO SPONSÆ.

SPONSUS. SPONSA.

SPONSUS.

Ego Flos campi & Lilium, &c.

Sponsus.

Earths glit'tring stars, vying with those above,
Fair Rose, and Lily, emblems of my love,
As far as mortal Flowers proportion bear
To Love, and Beauties, which immortal are,
How gay you look, how pure your flame does shine,
Fit to resemble, tho not equal mine!

My Dearest is a Lilly too,
Tho in differ'nt scites we grow,
I ith' rich Valley, she on the' hard cliffs wrinkled brow.
With Thorns, and Brambles girt around,
The Plant not to defend, but wound.
Yet ev'n thus plac'd, with such a foil,
As is the Curse of any soil;
Tho Lilies one with Thorns compare,
Lilies 'mongst Thorns are yet less fair,
Less beauteous, and less gay,
And all their glories less display,
Cloath'd in pure, and genial light,
Cloath'd or naked in their Virgin white,

Than my BELOV'D, amongst the Daughters shows,
With Grace upon her Lips, and terror on her Brows.

SPONSA.

Sicut malus inter ligna.

Sponsa.

I

Too WELL, my LORD, too well I know,
By what Thou hast compar'd me now,
What to my self, what to Thy love I owe.

II

Ah, too short age of with'ring Flowers,
The pride of some few sunny Hours,
But without guard against the Wind, or Showres!

III

And such, just such a Flower am I,
Whilst on Thy stem, mod'rately high,
Thou a Tree, deck'st with gems the glitt'ring Skie.

IV

But look how th' Apple Tree excels
Its Brother-plants, tho'it humbler dwells,
For wholesome shade, and Fruit and od'rous smells:

V

(Domestick Tree, which left the Wood,
Not to be great, but do more good,
And crown the vilest stock with th' noblest bud.)

VI

No otherwise, my LOVE, dost Thou
Thy Brethren all in Grace out-go,
How high so er'e they rais'd, and Thou how low.

VII

Hail, happy Tree, under whose shade,
For cool retreat, and pleasure made,
Whether I sit, or walk, or down am lay'd;

VIII

Round there attends me pure delight,
With all the charms, that can invite
The gustful palate, or the curious sight.

IX

Not love himself, tho th' Architect,
(And love the Bow'r did first erect
Plent'ous in Wines, and beaut'ous in prospect:)

X

A Bow'r more lovely could contrive,
His last effort of skill to give,
Or where himself might ever wish to live.

XI

Thither he brought me; but to prove,
No Charms but his my heart could move:
Love was my guide, His Banner o're me Love.

XII

Whither, O Love, whither dost Thou flie?
Look, how smitt'n I wounded lie,
And, if Thou help not, of the Wound must die!

XIII

Now, e're it be too late, produce
The choisest spirits Thou e're didst use,
The wineful Grape, and thy' Apples winy juice!

XIV

But come Thy self too, for (alas!)
I'm sick of love: Thy left-hand place
Under my head, whole me with th' right embrace!

SPONSUS.

Adjuro vos, Filiæ Jerusalem.

Sponsus.
I COME—but (lo!) how peaceful sleep
In downy chains does all her Senses keep;
She sleeps, and will do well, compos'd to rest,
Of ease, her self, and him she loves, as wisht, possest.

Mean while, you Daughters of Jerusalem,
Who are, and to your selves more glorious seem
In her attendance, than your own fair stemm;
By the Hills, and by the Lawns,
By the Roes, and by the Fawns,
By the Fields, and by the Woods,
By the Springs, and by the Floods,
All that I, or you count dear,
All I love, and all you fear;
I charge you, I charge you not to awake
My Love from the rest, which now she does take,
Till her self pleases the Signal to make!

SPONSA.

Vox dilecti mei ecce iste, &c.

Sponsus.
What voice was that, which struck my ear?
Ah! 'twas my LOVE, 'twas my LOVES Voice,
Which, were I dead, would make me hear,
And fill me with unutterable joys.
'Twas He, who spake, and is he gone?
Ah me! e're yet his Words were done,
So far remov'd hence, and so soon?
But he'll return ------
He comes, he comes, I see him come,
The very Mountains make him room,
And bow their Heads to yield him way;
The Hillocks dart a brighter ray;
Over the Mountain tops he skips,
Light as the Wind, o're th' Hillocks trips:
And now he's there, and now he's here,
Swift as the fleet wing-footed Deer;

And now behind our Wall he stands,
Looks at the Window, and commands
My' attendance, at the Lattice, with his beckning hands.
Nay he speaks too, and I hear him say,
“Rise up, my Love, my Fair one, come away!
“Winter at length is past, and gone;
“Look, how th' expected Spring comes on!
“Apace it comes, on Zephyrs riding,
“And the Rain, that stopt it chiding.
“The Rain is gone too, and gives place,
“And now appears a clearer face
“Of Heaven, and Earth, than did before:
“Enough of Storms, there's now no more.
“Lo! how the Flowers lift up their heads,
“And start out of their drousie beds.
“Wak'd by the Quire of Birds, that sing
“And Carol to the new-come Spring.
“They sing, and dance from bough to bough,
“As if they Winter ne're did know;
“As if they Winter ne're did fear,
“And 'twould be Summer all the Year,
“And every Night, and every Day,
“(Who more rich, or pleas'd, than they)
“Unbidden, Pipe, and unrewarded, play.
“The Fig-Tree too, on every twig,
“Puts out its callow unfletcht Fig.
“Unflesht, unripe, unripe tho' it be,
“Hatc'ht at once by its Mother-Tree;
“Born at one pang, without the throws,
“The' hard teeming Olive undergoes,
“That Gems, and Flowers, and flowring dies,
“E're th' half form'd Embry'o up does rise:
“Or the slow Vine its clusters brings,
“That gentle Plant, made up of Rings,
“Crispt, and curld, and wondrous sweet,
“But modest too, and veild toth' feet.

“Which in their courses, all attend,
“And forth their Odours all do send,
“The Springs to perfume, and thy way,
“Rise up my Love, my Fair One, come away!
Thus, thus but softer 'twas he spake,
With words a very Rock would break,
And e'ven in Stones impression make;
Hark, and you too, O Friends, may hear him speak!

SPONSUS.

Columba mea in foraminibus, &c.

Sponsus.
My DOVE, that in the Cliffs dost dwell,
And there to stones thy griefs dost tell,
To stones, which nor Thy plaints can hear,
Nor a part with Thee in them bear,
Not lend one sigh, nor shed one tear,
Come forth of Heaven, and me belov'd,
And be to a better Seat remov'd!
To one less deaf thy prayers direct,
Whom as Thy self, but more they may affect:
Make them, my Love, make them to me,
And let me Her, who makes them see!
Thy Voice, tho hoarse with calling grown,
And almost to Thy self unknown,
To me as sweet, as e're it was,
As Charming seems, and full of Grace;
And thy fair Eyes, with tears besprent,
Look through the liquid Chrystal far more Orient.
“For why to Heav'n no pompous Sacrifice,
“Than Holy Prayer can more accepted rise:
“And the Lambs Bride no richer Garment wears,
“Than simple White, or pondred with her pearly tears.

Come then of Heav'n, and me belov'd,
And be to a better Seat remov'd!
—SHE comes, she comes, I see her come,
The Cliffs, that held her, make her room;
And stoop their Heads, to plain her way,
Our Lawns reflect her brighter ray!
Take us the while, the Foxes take,
Which in our Vineyards Burroughs make!
The little Foxes, which dispoil
Our Vines, into a Gin beguile;
For there's a blessing in our Vine;
The tender Grape begins to shine,
A blessing of its own, her blessing 't has, and mine.

SPONSA.

Dilectus meus mihi, &c.

Sponsa.

Who would not such a Dear One love,
Who thus, and thousand ways does prove,
How constant He, how great my bliss?
My' BELOVED's MINE, and I AM HIS:
His, who amongst the Lillies feeds,
And with them to be crown'd, first for them bleeds.

O! were that Day come, and the Night
Gone, which retards Thy gladsome sight!
Hasten it, LOVE, and bring the Day,
The shadows soon will flee away,
If Thou on Bethers top appear,
Swift as the fleet wing-footed Deer;
On Bethers top shedding Thy Light,
Fleet as their heels, and than their horns more bright.

CAP. III. DOLOR DE ABSENTIA SPONSI. EPITASIS.

SPONSA. CHORUS Amicorum Sponsi.
SPONSA SOLA.

In Lectulo meo per Noctes.

Sponsa.
'Twas Night, a sad and dismal Night,
Without one gleame of chearful Light;
Silence, and horror seiz'd its place,
And rioted ith' empty space;
When wake'd with dread, Lo! all alone
I found my self, my LOVE was gone.
With trembling Hand, to find him out,
I felt, I sought, but found him not.
At last thus to my self I said,
“I'le up, and see whither he' is stray'd:
“Fearless the City compass round,
“Nor give o're till my LOVE is found.
“No labour spare ith' quest, or pains,
“Through the broad Streets, and narrow Lanes,
“But eve'ry Lane, and every Street,
“Measure out with my weary Feet,
“And thus, or find him, or thus prove,
“My truth to His, and to my Love.

I spake, I rose, but in vain sought,
And tir'd my self, yet found him not.
Him I found not, but they found me,
Who the City-Warders be;
And in their Night-walks compass it,
Amaz'd a stricter Watch to meet,
And thus themselves first askt to be,
“Him, whom my Soul loves did you see?
My steps scarce from them could I move,
But I found Him my Soul does love.
I held him fast, nor would let go my hold,
Chast in my Love, and in his Favour bold,
Till to my Mothers House I brought Him,
And all my adventurous search had taught him,
To the glad room, where I was born,
But in my Birth less joyous than in his return.
And now, fair Daughters of Jerusalem,
Who are, and to your selves more glorious seem,
In his attendance than your own fair stem;
By the Hills, and by the Launs,
By the Roes, and by the Fauns,
By the Fields, and by the Woods,
By the Springs, and by the Floods,
All that I or you count dear,
All he loves, and all I fear:
I charge you, I charge you not to awake
My LOVE from the rest, which now he does take,
Till himself pleases the signal to make!

CHORUS Amicorum Sponsi.

Quæ est ista quæ ascendit per, &c.

Chorus.

What fair One's that, who from the Desert comes,
Strait as a Palm, and breathing Odorous Gums;
Or like those Pillars, which from th' Altar rise,
Of mystic Smoak, on which Heav'ns Pavement lies;
Th' expiring Soul of Myrrh, to its last abode
Hasting, as if 'twould be it self a God?
So choice a Beauty, and Divinely fair,
A meen so lovely, and so bright an Air,
Centred in whom all just Perfections meet,
The Wise, the Good, the Awful, and the Sweet,
Is only worthy him, whose sacred Love,
None equal knows, but his, who reigns above.

Behold his Bed (his Bed that's Salomons,
As far as Heav'n admits comparisons)
No Queen need dread the terrors of the Night,
With such a Watch, so 'appointed, and so bright.
About it Sixty valiant Grooms attend,
Such as for triumph Israel forth do's send.
All valiant Men, and expert all in War,
Girt as in Fight her mighty Conquerours are;
Each with his Sword upon his guarded Thigh,
And able each an Army to defy,
But whose united Forces all meet here,
To keep the Post and drive thence grizly fear.

A Chair the King, of Cedar too has made,
The cleanest Trees that Libanus e're had,
Whose Balli'sters are of finest Silver wrought,
The floor of Gold, from Ophirs treasures brought;

Its Cano'py of the richest Tyrian dye,
Enough to upbraid a meaner Majesty.
Such the Materials, but Art Divine,
Ith' Workmanship does Nature far out-shine.
For all with winged Loves tis Carv'd around,
Love in more various postures ne're was found.
Some on Heav'ns Message flying, from above,
Thither advancing some our mortal love,
Which all refin'd, like Prophets, others Preach,
But learn of Sions Daughters, whom they seem to teach.
—These are the shadows, fair One, of that bliss
Awaits Thy love, and all are Myste'ries:
Which none, but he that's Wise, can understand,
Nor any write but with a guided Hand.

SPONSA.

Egredimini & videte filiæ Sion.

Sponsa.
Daughters of Jerusalem,
The fairest Sprouts of Sions stem,
Come forth, my Friends, come forth, and see
What mine, and what your Honours be!
You well remember th' happy Day,
(And well remember it, you may)
When first your King receiv'd his Crown,
King Salomon, and 'twas his own,
Not of the Kingdom but of his Love;
And it the fairer Crow'n did prove.
From 'his Mothers Hands the joyful Son,
On 'his Nuptial Day receiv'd the Crown.
But such a Son, and such a Mother,
Vying Glories each with th' other,
And such a Crown, and such a Day,
When in chast Joys dissolv'd they lay,

The happy Bridegroom, and the Bride,
And you, their Friends, on either side,
If once again you'd wish to see,
And greater Joys than those could be,
Come, and my greater SALOMON behold,
More glorious in his Love, than he in all his Gold.

Cap. IV. CATASTASIS. DESIDERIUM.

SPONSUS, SPONSA.

SPONSUS.

Quam Pulchra es Amica mea.

Sponsus.

I

Behold Thou 'art fair, my Love, behold Thou art Fair,
Let the World know, and know it Thou;
But (alas!) what Thy hidden Beauties are,
Nor thou, nor that, till by me taught, can know:
Till Thee, by all that's Beauteous I compare,
And after all rejoyn, Thou 'art yet more Fair.

II

Begin my Song! But where shall I begin?
Ah! where, but with Thy Dove-like Eyes,
Those Doors of Dia'mond, which first let me in,
And of my Passion, were the Virgin prize?
Love thence redoubled on me his thick stroaks,
But, sallying forth, lay fetter'd in thy Locks.

III

Locks of that Head, which does like Gilead shine,
When on the Golden Fleeces there,
The jealous Sun, just ready to decline,
Ith' mid-way stops, his Tresses to compare;
But brighter far, and longer too are they,
Than Sun-beam, in the fairest Summer-day.

IV

Such is thy Hair, thy Teeth like couples thence,
All washt in Aenons streams, and shorn;
In Aenons Silver streams, and rising whence,
To th' joyful shearing House new washt they' are born:
Each has its make, and Twins they bear all round,
Nor is a barren One ith' number found.

V

And as Thy Teeth, such are Thy Lips, their Fence,
The purest Wooll, with the' noblest Dye;
And every graceful Word, that's uttred thence,
On purple Wings, to Thy' lovers Heart does flie;
Thy Cheeks, hid under Thy bright Curls, appear
Like shaded Pomgranates, but shine more clear.

VI

But, O, Thy Neck, that Tower impregnable,
How full of Beauty, and of Dread?
Like that of David, built for a Cittadel
With thousand spoyls of the' Living and the Dead.
A thousand Shields of th' Mighty hang up there,
All mighty Shields, and but thy Necklace are.

VII

Yet such a Cittadel, and such a Tower,
To guard those Twins there was but need,
Those two Roe-twins, of all the Herd the Flower,
Which under it, among the Lillies feed;
Thy two fair Breasts, which yet to Lillies give
A tincture brighter, than they thence receive.

VIII

Till the Day come, my Love, the Bridal-Day,
For which thou less than I dost long;
Till the Nights shadows swiftly flee away,
A while I'll leave Thee, a little while be gone:
To th' Hills of Myrrh, and Frankincense I'll go,
And fetch the Morning, as it 'gins to blow.

IX

Yet (ah!) I cannot leave Thee, Love, thus soon,
My Love thus soon I cannot leave;
Our Flocks may graze, for 'tis yet scarce High-noon,
And we, till Folding time, the Hours deceive.
Thou art all fair, my Love, all fair Thou art,
And first I'll die, e're from Thee thus depart.

X

Rather a while, my Love, let 'us hand in hand,
To Liban walk, and Amana;
Shenir, and Hermon, which large views command,
And thence see how our Lambs do feed and play,
Whether unscar'd they from the Lions rest,
Or Leopards paws, and where the' next Folding's best.

XI

They' are safe, my SPOUSE, they' are safe, but (Oh) my heart,
SISTER, my Heart (Oh) where is't gone?
For gone it is, I know, by the' pleasing smart;
Welfare poor Heart, that's from its Master flown!
But this one glance, one Eyes bright glance has done:
Who's proof for both, if thus Thou wound'st with One?

XII

Yet as Thou' hast tane my Heart, so keep it fast!
A single Chain is strong enough,
One link o'th' Chain, with which thy Neck is grac'd,
To hold, fast hold a never starting Love;
My SPOUSE, my SISTER, I'm Thy Captive made,
Bind him, nor of Thy Priso'ner be afraid!

XIII

A willing Captive, Prisoner of Thy love,
Which guess how strong, and fair it is;
So strong 't has drawn me from my Throne above,
And truly hides a God in this disguise:
So fair, that Thee no less to Heav'n 't shall raise,
To Crown Thy Maker with Immortal Bays.

XIV

But this, till to' Heav'n we come, I'll let alone,
Nor canst Thou understand it yet;
Wherefore Thy Love by things to Thee well known,
As thou canst bear, I will before Thee set;
To Wine compare 't, tho better 'tis than Wine,
And all Thy Odours are of race Divine.

XV

Thy Lips, my SPOUSE, drop as the Hony-comb,
Hony and Milk are in Thy Tongue;
Some drops for Susten'ance, and for Med'cine some,
The Weak to nourish, and confirm the Strong:
Like Libanus, Thy perfum'd Garments smell,
Liban, that does all Mounts, for Sweets excel.

XVI

All, but that Garden, in the holy Mount,
Where I design three Nights to lie,
In Spices wrapt, as Prophets shall recount,
And notice give the World, when the' time draws nigh:
Yet such a Garden, and so sweet art Thou,
My SPOUSE, my SISTER, when Thy Spices blow.

XVII

A Garden fenc'd, and all enclos'd around,
Lockt up, and double is the Key,
With a quick Spring, that waters the' holy Ground,
And all its parching Fervors does allay;
But so seal'd up, the curious passer by
With Foot ne're soild, ne're saw it with his Eye.

XVIII

To none but its own sacred Plants it flows,
Making the place a Paradise,
Where nothing noxious, or forbidden grows,
Nothing, but what will make one truly wise:
Or make, or please, or truly keep one so;
For all there planted, as its Trees do grow.

XIX

The Pomgranate is there, and there the Date,
The Spikenard, and the Cypress Tree,
Spikenard and Saffron, and hither brought of late,
The sweet-Cane, Cinamom, and all sorts that be
Of Frankincense, Myrrh, Aloes, and a Train
Of Princely Spices, wont in th' East to Reign.

XX

There Reign they, but here serve my Love, and me,
Whose Fountain all their drought supplies,
And flows so largely, constant, and so free,
Th' whole World may have for its necessities:
Jordan that sacred, and perpetual Flood,
Had not more streams, when like the Sea on heaps it stood.

SPONSA.

Surge Aquilo & veni Auster.

Sponsa.

I

Father Winds, that gently ride,
On downy Feathers, through the Skie,
You, that ith' cold North abide,
And Southern Gales, which cold defie!

II

North-Wind awake, and Thou, O South,
And gently on my Garden blow;
Blow, gentle Winds, with different Mouth,
That all its various scents may flow!

III

Then on your Wings the Perfumes take,
And bear them with you gently Home;
More grateful your return they'll make,
And th' young Winds wonder whence you come.

IV

But why, O Winds, first call I you,
Let my BELOVED rather come!
More than your Gales his Breath can do,
Not show, but make my best Perfume.

V

Why comes he not? Ah! where's the Lett?
Now that his Garden's in its prime,
Now that his Fruits are fit to eat,
And may be worse another time?

V. CATASTASIS.

SPONSUS. SPONSA. CHORUS.

SPONSUS.

Veni in Hortum meum Soror.

Sponsus.

I

I heard Thee call, my Sister, my SPOUSE,
I heard Thee call, and I came away;
To my Garden I came, and as Lovers use,
Have gath'red each Flower in my Walk that lay;
My Myrrh, and my Spices, and all that is rare,
And thus to my Garden I'll often repair.

II

So pleased I was with each choice delight,
And delights such as Thine I but rarely meet;
That, scarce knowing how, I forgot my self quite,
Nor took time enough to choose only the sweet;
My Hony and Hony-comb at once devour'd,
And with my Wine, Milk into the Bowl pour'd.

III

Chear up, my Friends, and eat your fill,
Chear up, and eat, here's store enough,
Thanks to my bounteous Love,
And drink, drink plenteously, what each one will!
“Who fears excess, or fondly thinks to spare,
“Disparages that Heav'n, whose Guests we are.

SPONSA.

Ego dormio, & cor meum vigilat.

Sponsa.

All as I slept, but with my waking mind,
(My Heart slept not, tho sleep my Eyes did bind,
And on my Temples his soft Fillet ti'd,
But as I slept and) dead to all beside,
Liv'd to my LOVE, a Voice I seem'd to hear,
A shrilling Voice, and pitteous, pierc't my ear;
A Voice well known, 'twas my BELOVED's Voice,
And at the Door he made th' appointed Noise,
Knocking, and calling, Why comes not my Love?
“Open my SISTER, my 'Undefil'd, my Dove,
“Open, I pray Thee, nor be so unkind,
“Thus to treat him, who's come thy Love to find;
“A long, and weary Journey come ith' Night,
“Weary and wet, by the Moon's dusky Light.
“Lo! how my Head with the moist Dew is fill'd,
“And the Nights drops through all my Curls distill'd!

“And art Thou come, I flatteringly repli'd,
“But why, my Dear, so late, without a Guide?
“I fear it much, but (ah!) I'm now in Bed;
“And many a sad distrust nights horrors breed,

“He're in the dark, ith' dark here all alone;
“My Vest's put off, How shall I put it on?
“My Feet are washt too from the Days foul soil,
“Nor with new sullies would I them defile.
“O, how I tremble, and would gladly rise,
“But dare not, (Oh!) I dare not, LOVE how dark it is!

I spake, but 'twas excuse: To be deni'd,
Unwilling he, still for admission cry'd.
Drawing the Latch, and lifting with his Hand
The easie Door; grieving he thus should stand,
My Heart was in me mov'd, and I began
To pitty him, and my' unjust self disdain;
At his so meek attendance did relent,
And of my own unlovelike words repent.
So up I rose in haste, to let him in,
Who was my LOVE, and had so patient been.
I rose, and to the Door like Lightning flew,
To th' very place, where he the Latch first drew.
My Hands dropt Myrrh, which on the Door he left,
Pure Myrrh, in eve'ry chink of th' Door, and cleft,
Myrrh on the Lock, in every ward was Myrrh,
And Myrrh, where every busie Finger I could stir.
But opening,—Woe's me! he was gone;
Himself, my dearest LOVE, had thence withdrawn.
My Soul was gone too, roused as I lay,
And heard him speak, but with him fled away.
So pensive, all about I for him sought,
Sought curiously about, but found him not:
Call'd him by Name, begg'd his return to have,
I call'd, and sought, but he no answer gave.
Nor hear, nor find him could I, but they found me,
They, who the Warders of the City be:
Unlike in Court'sie, tho alike in Name
Those Just ones, to 'whom in my first search I came,
Who let me pass unwrong'd; these barba'rously
Struck, and did more than strike, have wounded me:

And though by place, and office bound to look
No' assaults be made, my torn Vail rudely took.

But you, fair Daughters of Jerusalem,
From whom much better things to hope I seem,
Worthy your selves, and worthy your bright stem.
If you chance my Love to find,
Virgins, be to' a Virgin kind!
If you chance my LOVE to meet,
Virgins, be to a Virgin sweet!
Sweet, and kind so Love to y'ou be,
As you are kind, and sweet to me!
I charge you, I charge you by all that is dear,
My LOVE to inform, that his Wounds I do bear,
Sick to death with his Love, without his care.

CHORUS Filiarum Hierosolymitanarum.

Qualis est Dilectus tuus.

Chorus.
Fairest of Women, if we find
Thy LOVE, we'll to Thy suit be kind.
Fairest of Women, if we meet
Thy LOVE, we'll be as Thou art, sweet.
(Sweet, and kind, so Love to us be
As we are kind and sweet to Thee!)
Tell him all thou hast charg'd us,
In terms, like Thine, obsequious.
But, if unseasonable it is not,
Nor we be too o're curious thought,
Be pleas'd t' advise us, what above
All other Lovers, is Thy LOVE,
In Air, and rich Endowments large,
That us Thou giv'st so strict a charge?

SPONSA.

Dilectus meus candidus & rubicundus.

Sponsa.

Fair Ones, tho that, which you of me require,
And which my self should in your place desire,
Be far above all Art, or Skill of mine
As it deserves in Colours to design,
Yet that I may my just Compliance show,
The best that's in my power I'll gladly do.

Help, help me LOVE, to give each part its grace,
Nor from my humble Verse, or Heart, their Lines efface!

WHITE, and ruddy is my LOVE,
As when the Rose and Lilly strove.
White and pure, as Mid-day Light;
Ruddy as Clouds that flie the Night,
And e'en or'e-taken blushing run,
Blushing to o're-take the setting Sun,
And with him in the Sea headlong plunge down.
The Banner worthy 'alone to bear,
Under which Myriads listed are.
Around his Head a Ray divine,
Bright as the purest Gold does shine.
His Locks as any Raven black,
Hang in loose Curls a-down his Back.
His Eyes like Doves by' a Rivers side,
Well set, and with a decence wide,
As washt in Milk, are lovely white,
But sparkling Fire from the killing sight.
His Cheeks with spicy mixtures flow,
Flourets ith' downy Borders grow.
His Lips the choicest Myrrh distill,
Lillies the parting Valley fill.

His Hands with Rings of Berril set,
Of Jacynct, and of Chrysolet.
His Chest's like polisht Ivory,
Where Veins of liquid Saphir lie.
Two Pedestals of solid Gold
His Marble-pillar'd Thighs uphold.
Libanus only is his Peer,
Ith' fairest Cedar growing there.
Strait as a Cedar and as tall,
(By Trees to express the Natural)
But when he speaks, so 'himself he is,
With every Grace, and every Bliss,
Whole Liba'nus is unfit to be,
With all its stores, the Pourtraict of his Deity.

Such, fair Daughters of Jerusalem,
Such is my LOVE, and such my Friend;
If such an One you chance to find,
Seise him for me, when y'have by th' Marks discover'd him.

VI. AMBITIO SPONSÆ.

CHORUS Filiarum Hierosolymitanarum. SPONSA, SPONSUS, CHORUS alter Mulierum è Gentibus.

CHORUS. Fil. Hier.

Quo abiit Dilectus tuus O Pulcherrima?

Chorus.
Whither is thy BELOVED gone,
Fairest of Women, whither turn'd aside?
Tell us, if Thou hast his retirements known,
Or deign Thy self to be our Guide!
In every place, we'll with Thee seek Him out,
And find, or else be found of Him we sought.

SPONSA.

Dilectus meus descendit in Hortum.

Down to his Garden my BELOVED went.
To' his Garden, as I thought, with full intent;

The Beds of Spices, in his Walk to see,
How fresh and verdant in his Livery.
There to divert a while, and feed his Flock,
And new-blown Lillies gather from the Stock.
—But (Lo!) I see him, this way his steps incline.
I my BELOVED's AM, and HE IS MINE.
His, none but his, who 'mongst the Lillies feeds,
And with them to be Crown'd, first for them bleeds,

SPONSUS.

Pulchra es Amica mea, &c.

Sponsus.

I

Behold, Thou 'art fair, my Love, behold Thou 'art fair,
As Tirza, which for Empire strove
With th' holy City', and with it would compare;
Fair as Jeru'salem, coming from above:
So fair art Thou, but dreadful too withal,
As a rang'd Phalanx, at the Trumpets call.

II

Ah! from me turn those killing Eyes away,
Too piercing is their beauteous sight;
I yield, my Love, I yield, Thou hast gain'd the Day,
And all in vain I see it is to fight:
Thou need'st but only look to overcome;
And, bound in Chains, thy Captives are led home.

III

Chains of that Hair, that does like Gilead shine,
When on the Golden Fleeces there,

The jealous Sun, just ready to decline,
Ith' Mid-Heav'n stops, his Tresses to compare;
But brighter far, and longer much are they,
Than Sun-beam in the fairest Summer-day.

IV

Such are Thy Locks, Thy Teeth like couples thence,
All washt in Aenons Streams, and shorn,
In Aenons Silver Streams, and rising whence,
To th' joyful Shearing-house, new washt they' are born:
Each has it's make, and Twins they bear all round,
Nor is a Barren one ith' number found.

V

Thy Cheeks, which underneath Thy Temples lie,
And there their modest blushes hide,
In such a Vail, as does all Art defie,
(Nature for Virgins does that Vail provide)
Thy Cheeks, all vaild within Thy Curls, appear
Like shaded Pomegranats, but shine more clear.

VI

Tho threescore Queens, and fourscore Concubines,
And Virgins numberless there be;
Ten thousand Virgins, Concubines, and Queens,
Nor are, nor ever were so fair as She:
She, who's my Dove, my Undefil'd, the One,
Mine and her Morthers, more than all, alone.

VII

The Virgins saw her, and their blessings sent,
Heav'ns tendrest blessings on her shour'd;

As if th' officious drops they on her spent,
Should on themselves again, in streams be pour'd:
The Queens, and Concubines by different ways,
Whom yet they envi'd, could not chuse but praise.

CHORUS Mulierum ê Gentibus.

Quæ est ista quæ progreditur quasi Aurora?

Chorus.
What fair One's that, who like the Day,
From its dark Prison broke away,
Comes gently on, all crownd with Light,
The Rosie-fingred Morn in white;
And as She still does draw more near,
Still more radiant does appear?
How fair She is, as Mid-night Moon,
Radiant too as Mid-day Sun;
Clear, and bright, but terrible withal,
As a rang'd Phalanx at the Trumpets call.

SPONSA Sola.

Descendi in Hortum Nucum.

Sponsa.
Down to my Garden am I come; and here,
How fresh, how verdant all my Fruits appear!
To see I'm come, how my Nuts clusters grow,
How my Vines shoot, and the Pomgranats blow,
But hold!—What sudden change is it I feel?
What 'tis I know not, how I cannot tell;
But now, methinks, I mount, and now I flie:
Lo! how the Earth, and Clouds beneath me lie;

And now to th' Empyrean I approach,
And starry is my Way, a Cherub is my Coach.

CHORUS Mulierum ê Gentibus.

Revertere, Revertere Sunamitis.

Chorus.
Whither, O Sulamite, whither so fast,
And why thus soon, to leave us, all this haste?
Return, O Sulamite, return, that we
On equal ground may thy chast Beauties see!
Return, that we a while may on Thee gaze;
Return, or us together with Thee raise.

SPONSA.

Quid videbis in Sunamite?

Sponsa.
Ah! too o're curious, and too over-bold,
What is't you'd in the Sulamite behold?
What is't, when all that you can in her see,
Are but the Lines of a tremendous Majesty.
As when two Armies ready are to joyn,
And with stern Looks, to th' onset give the Sign.

VII. AMORES MUTUI.

SPONSUS SPONSA.

SPONSUS.

Quam pulchri sunt gressus tui in calceamentis?

Sponsus.

Fair One, who dost from Loins of Kings descend,
The King, whose Empire does o're all extend,
Beyond those Worlds, which undiscovered lie,
Ith' boundless circuit of th' All-embracing Skie,
Let others, as they please, recount Thy praise,
I from the ground its Monument will raise.
Those parts of Thee which have the lowest place,
But beauteous in their kind—
Thy Feet, which on their well fix'd bases, bear
The fairest Pile, that Nature e're did rear.
How glorious are they, when Thou leadst Thy Flock,
Or on Thy buskins rais'd, or in thy humble Sock?
The juncture of Thy Thighs like Jewels are,
The Work of the most fam'd Artificer.
Thy Navil (nor let Scoffers here blaspheme
The Mysteries of the New Jerusalem,
Or to vile Lust debase the noble Theme.)
But like a Goblet round Thy Navil is,
Brim full, and flowing with the richest Juice.

Thy Belly pregnant with a numerous Train,
Which Heav'ns void space, shall People once again.
Like heaps of Wheat, with Lillies set around,
Thy Children shew, and how their Mother's Crown'd.
Thy Brest's like two Twin-Roes, and Twins they are,
In all the Herd there's not a lovelier pair.
Thy Neck is like a Tower of Ivory,
Hung with the Trophies of Loves Victory.
Thy Eyes surpass the Silver Streams, that run
By Bathrabbim, to th' Pools of Essebon.
Thy Nose, of perfect shape, like a Fort Royal stands,
Off from Thy Cheeks, and th' under Plains commands.
Or like Loves Labyrinth, by the Forrest side,
Pointing, and to Damascus op'ning wide.
Thy Head's like Carmel, and Thy purple Hair,
The brightest Dye th' Assyrian Fleece can bear.
Fetter'd in its soft Chains the King doth lie,
Enamour'd of the Bands of his Captivity.

How fair art Thou! how made for all delight!
Slender, clean Limb'd, and, as a Palm, upright?
Grow, happy Tree, the Queen of all the Wood,
Grow, as Thou dost, less great than Thou art good!
In whose warm Bosom, the Vines clusters rest,
And shew, and seem themselves, the swellings of Thy Brest.

Up to the Palm-Tree I'll ascend, I said,
Palm in my Hand; with Palm Ill crown my Head;
The blushing clusters with my Lips I'll seise,
And all their winy juyce, rich Wines express:
With which enflam'd, I'll cooling Apples take,
Apples, the best repast that Lovers make;
Apples, whose Cordial they the best can tell,
Apples, which like Thy perfum'd Breath do smell.
Apples, Thy Breath: Thy Speech is generous Wine,
That sparkles in the Cup, and gives its shine;
Moves it self right, to my Beloved goes,
Goes as it can, and all its Wonders shows:

Making the Lips of those, who sleep to speak,
And at one touch their Chains and silence break.

SPONSA.

Ego Dilecto meo, & ad me conversio ejus.

Sponsa.
I my BELOVED's am alone,
And beside me has he none;
None beside me does he love,
Equal none, and none above.
Mine he is and mine alone,
And beside him have I none;
None beside him do I love,
Equal none, and none above.
Come then my LIFE, ah! come away!
Ith' City let's not ever stay;
But look how our Fields do smile,
And in the Villas lodg a while.
There, with the Sun, We'll early rise,
And visiting our Nurseries,
See how the Vines their Branches spread,
And the young Grape shoots forth his head:
And how the Pomgranates do blow.
But then my LOVE less ruddy show.
My Loves there will I to Thee give.
Loves in the Country happie'st live.
The Mandrag's there, that Love excites,
The Mandrag, chief in Loves delights;
Which forward now, begins to 'appear,
And fumes our Gates with it's Rosie Hair.

With many a Fruit, and many a Flower,
Which I will in Thy Bosom pour.
Store of Pleasures, new, and old,
More than can of Tongue be told.
More, if possible, than enough,
And all reserv'd for Thee, my LOVE.

VIII. CATASTROPHE.

SPONSA. CHORUS Gentium. SPONSUS.

SPONSA.

Quis mihi det te Fratrem meum?

Sponsa.
I love, but cannot yet my LOVE injoy,
Ah! Love that Thou should'st have so much alloy!
Still some nice thing to interrupt Our bliss,
Something to fault, which yet we would not miss!
This as I think, I wish Thou wert my BROTHER,
Thou my Soul loves, the Son of my own Mother:
How would I 'embrace Thee then, and kiss thine Eyes,
Where e're I meet Thee, safe from base surmize!
Home would I lead Thee to my Mothers House,
And, by her taught, the happy Moment use;
Talk o're our Loves, fill, fill the Wine,
The spicy blood of th' Pomgranate and Vine.
Satiate with which, Thou should'st thy Left-hand place
Under my Head, whole me with the' right embrace.
'Tis done, and see he sleeps—

Fair Daughters of Jerusalem,
Who are, and to your selves more glorious seem,
In our attendance, than your own bright Stem,
By the Hills, and by the Launs,
By the Roes, and by the Fauns,
By the Fields, and by the Woods,
By the Springs, and by the Floods,
All that I or you count dear,
All he loves, and all I fear:
I charge you, I charge you not to awake
My LOVE, from the rest, which now he does take,
Till himself pleases the signal to make!

CHORUS Gentium.

Quæ est ista, quæ ascendit de deserto?

Chorus.
What fair One's that (but words can ne'er express
How fair she is) who from the Wilderness,
Leaning on her BELOVED's Arm ascends,
And hitherward their amo'rous Journey tends.
They 'are come, and now approach't so near,
That wer't not rudeness, we their privacies may hear.

SPONSUS.

Sub arbore malo suscitavi te.

Sponsus.
—There 'twas, under the Apple-Tree,
Where first I found, and first rais'd Thee.
Thy Mother there her Fruit disclos'd,
And there thou first didst lie expos'd,

And hadst lain still, but that I came,
Led to Thy rescue, by my first Loves purest flame.

SPONSA.

Pone me ut signaculum super Cor.

Sponsa.
Blest, ever blessed be that Day.
When thus Thou cam'est, and thus I lay!
O let us never, never part,
But make me' a Seal upon Thy Heart!
A Badg Thou on Thy Arm mayst wear,
That where Thou art, I may be there,
And never, never from Thee part,
But always on, or next Thy Heart!
“For love, (And who loves more than I?)
“Stronger than Death, does Death defie.
“His Conquests like the Graves, extend,
“And further, up to Heav'n his flames ascend.
“But never was there such a Flame,
“As that, in which to me he came;
“So dreadful, scorching, and so bright,
“I blest, but trembled at the sight.
“A Fire; Love was himself that Fire,
“Which in no Waters will expire:
“But, eve'n in Floods, securely lives,
“And all their watry threats survives.
“Nor quench, nor drown it can the Flood,
“Nor buy it, all the seeming good
“This World, that mighty Chapman, boasts
“In his vast Traffique through all Coasts.
“For so invaluable is its price,
“And its exchange so monstrous high does rise,
“The Universe too little is for 'its Merchandise.

CHORUS Gentium, &c.

Soror nostra parva & ubera non habet.

Chorus.
A LITTLE Sister yet we have,
For whom we'd Loves assistance crave.
Young, and little, though she 'is yet,
And her Brest not fully set,
Tho as yet no Breasts she has,
Grow our Sister does apace.
But if thus high Loves price does go,
What shall we for our little Sister do,
When the time comes, that we should her bestow?

SPONSUS.

Si murus est ædificemus super.

Sponsus.
If, when grown up, your Sister prove a Wall,
We'll on her build a Silver Arcenal;
Defence, and Ornament we'll to her give,
And all her Stones shall, as ith' Quarry, live.
If, when grown up, your Sister prove a Door,
With Cedar mouldings we will case her o're;
With Freeze, and Cornice all her Pillars crown,
And to her sacred Glories add our own.

SPONSA.

Ego Murus & ubera mea sicut Turris.

Sponsa.
But I'm a Wall, and my soft Brests full grown,
Like Towers, upon the subject Camp look down.
My constancy to guard the Fort does stand,
And dares the rudest Shock, of th' roughest Hand.
This as my WELL-BELOVED heard me say,
The Holy Boast he did approve;
And in his Eyes I found such grace that Day,
I dare no longer doubt his Love.

SPONSUS.

Vinea fuit Pacifico in ea, &c.

Sponsus.

I have a Vineyard, so has Salomon;
His at a distance lies, in Baal-hannon,
To Keepers, and to Under-Keepers set,
And Yearly, for a thousand pieces let.
But mine, the Vineyard that's my own, does lie
In my own care, and ever in my Eye.
Accountable for 'its Fruits to me alone,
And sharers in them, with me, have I none.

Compare we now our Vineyards, peaceful King!
Which does to 'its Lord the greatest Profit bring?
Thine for a thousand Pieces yields its store;
Admit it do; 'tis worth two hundred more,
But these the Keepers have: Mine is my own,
Accountable for' its Fruits to me alone,
(As for its care) and sharers have I none.

Thou art that Vineyard, Love, my Vineyard Thou,
Who in the Flowry Gardens dwellest low;
Low, but with all the Stars of th' Garden crown'd,
And Thy Companions sitting Thee around,
Attent, and listning to Thy tuneful Voice;
O, make me hear it, and fulfil my Joys!

SPONSA.

Fuge Dilecte mi & assimilare, &c.

Sponsa.
And so Thou shalt—
—LOVE, bring the Day,
Haste it, LOVE, and come away!
On th' Spicy Mountain tops appear,
Swift as the fleet-wing footed Deer!
And driving thence the baleful Night,
On th' Spicy Mountains shed Thy Light,
Fleet as their heels, and than their Horns more bright!

Veni Domine, JESU, Veni citò.
SOLI DEO GLORIA.
Cujus Amore inflammato corde hæc cecini,
Inscius licet, & indignus: Suscipe laudes
Famuli tui. Amen.

Apud Hartley Maudet. Com. Southton, in Vigiliâ Ascensionis. MDCLXXVII.