The Poems of Edward Taylor :: :: University of Virginia Library

63. Meditation. Cant. 6.11. I went down into the Garden of Nuts, to see the fruits etc.

4.12m [Feb.] 1704.

Oh that I was the Bird of Paradise!
Then in thy Nutmeg Garden, Lord, thy Bower
Celestiall Musick blossom should my voice
Enchanted with thy gardens aire and flower.
This Aromatick aire would so enspire
My ravisht Soule to sing with angells Quire.

What is thy Church, my Lord, thy Garden which
Doth gain the best of Soils? Such Spots indeed
Are Choicest Plots empalde with Palings rich
And set with slips, herbs best, and best of seed.
As th' Hanging Gardens rare of Babylon
And Palace Garden of King Solomon.

But that which doth excell all gardens here
Was Edens Garden: Adams Palace bright.
The Tree of Life, and knowledge too were there
Sweet herbs and sweetest flowers all sweet Delight
A Paradise indeed of all Perfume
That to the Nose, the Eyes and Eares doth tune.

But all these Artificiall Gardens bright
Enameled with bravest knots of Pincks

194

And flowers enspangld with black, red and White
Compar'd with this are truely stincking sincks.
As Dunghills reech with stinking sents that dish
Us out, so these, when balanced with this.

For Zions Paradise, Christs Garden Deare
His Church, enwalld, with Heavenly Crystall fine
Hath every Bed beset with Pearle all Cleare
And Allies Opald with Gold, and Silver Shrine.
The shining Angells are its Centinalls
With flaming Swords Chaunting out Madrigalls.

The Sparkling Plants, Sweet Spices, Herbs and Trees,
The glorious Shews of aromatick Flowers,
The pleasing beauties soakt in sweet breath lees
Of Christs rich garden ever upward towers.
For Christ Sweet Showers of Grace makes on it fall.
It therefore bears the bell away from all.

The Nut of evry kinde is found to grow big,
With food, and Physick, lodgd within a tower
A Wooden Wall with Husky Coverlid,
Or Shell flesht ore, or in an Arching bower
Beech, Hazle, Wallnut, Cocho, Almond brave
Pistick or Chestnut in its prickly Cave.

These all as meate, and med'cine, emblems choice
Of Spirituall Food, and Physike are which sport
Up in Christs Garden. Yet the Nutmeg's Spice
A leathern Coate wares, and a Macie Shirt,
Doth far excell them all. Aromatize
My Soule therewith, my Lord, and spirituall wise.

Oh! Sweet Sweet Paradise, Whose Spiced Spring
Will make the lips of him asleep to tune

195

Heart ravishing tunes, sweet Musick for our king
In Aromatick aire of blesst perfume
Open thy garden doore: mee entrance give
And in thy Nut tree garden make me live.

If, Lord, thou opst, and in thy garden bring
Mee, then thy little Linet sweetly Will
Upon thy Nut tree sit and sweetly sing
Will Crack a Nut and eat the kirnell still.
Thou wilt mine Eyes, my Nose, and Palate greet
With Curious Flowers, Sweet Odors, Viands Sweet.

Thy Gardens Odorif'rous aire mee make
Suck in, and out t'aromatize my lungs.
That I thy garden, and its Spicie State
May breath upon with such ensweetned Songs.
My Lungs and Breath ensweetend thus shall raise
The Glory of thy garden in its praise.