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To the King.


A PARAPHRASE VPON THE SONG OF SOLOMON.

Cant. I.

Sponsa.
Ioyn thy life breathing lips to mine;
Thy love excels the joy of Wine:
Thy Odors, ô how redolent!
Attract me with their pleasing sent;
These sweetly flowing from thy Name,
Our Virgins with desire inflame.

2

O draw me, my Belov'd, and we
With winged feet will follow thee.
Thy longing Spouse at length, great King,
To thy prepared Chamber bring:
Then shall our Souls, intranst with joy,
In thy due praise their Zeal imploy;
Thy celebrated loves recite,
Which more then crowned cups delight
Who Truth and sacred Iustice prise,
To thee their hearts shall Sacrifice.
You Daughters of Ierusalem,
You Branches of that holy Stem,
Though black, in favour I excell:
Black as the Tents of Ismael;
Yet gracefull, as the burnisht Throne,
And Ornaments of Solomon.
Despise not my discoloured look:
This Tawney from the Sun I took.

3

My Mothers Sons envy'd my worth,
And swoln with malice, thrust me forth
To Keep their Vines in heat of Day,
While, ah, my own neglected lay.
More lov'd then all of humane Seed,
O tell me where thy Sheep do feed;
Where rest they, in what gratefull shade,
When scorching Beames the fields invade!
Why should I stray, and turn to those
Who are but thy disguised Foes?

Sponsvs.
O thou the fairest of thy kind!
I will inform thy troubled Mind.
Follow the way my Flock had led,
And in their steps securely tread;
Thy Kids feed on the fruitfull plains,
Besides the Sheep-coates of our Swains.

4

Thou love art like those generous Steeds
Which Pharo for his Chariot breeds,
Trickt in their rich Caparisons.
How shine thy Cheeks with sparkling Stones,
Which loosely dangle from thine eares!
Thy Neck the Oceans Treasure weares.
I will a golden Zone impart,
Enameled with curious Art.

Sponsa.
VVhile he the Prince of Bountie feasts,
And entertains his happie Guests;
My Spiknard shall perfume his haire,
Whose Odor fils the ambient aire.
All Night his sacred Head shall rest
Between the Pillows of my Brest.
Not Myrrh, new bleeding from the tree,
So acceptable is to me:

5

Nor Camphire Clusters when they blow,
Which in Engedies Vineyard grow.

Sponsus.
Thy Beautie, Love, allures my sight,
And Sheds a Firmament of Light.
In either Eye there sits a Dove;
So mild, so full of Artlesse Love!

Sponsa.
Thou, my Belov'd art fairer far;
Thou as the Sun, I but a Star.
Come, my Delight, our pregnant Bed
Is with green buds and violets spred:
Our Cedar Roofs are richly gilt,
Our Galleryes of Cyprus built.


6

Cant. II.

Sponsus.
I am the Lilly of the Vale,
The Rose of Sharons fragrant Dale:
Lo, as th'unsullyed Lilly shows
Which in a Brake of Brambles grows;
My Love so darkens all that are
By erring men admir'd for faire.

Sponsa.
Lo, as the Tree which Citrons bears
Amidst the barren shrubs appears:
So my Belov'd excells the Race
Of Man in every winning Grace.
In his desired Shade I rest,
And with his Fruits my Pallate feast:

7

He brought me to his Magazines,
Replenisht with refreshing wines:
And over me, a tender Maid,
The Ensignes of his love display'd.
With Flagons ô receive my Powers,
And strew my Bed with Fruits and Flowres,
Whose taste and smell may cordiall prove,
For, ah, my Soul is sick with Love:
Beneath my head thy left Arme place,
And gently with thy Right embrace.

Sponsus.
You Daughters of Ierusalem,
You Branches of that Holy Stem,
I, by the mountain Roes, and by
The Harts which through the Forrest fly,
Adjure you that you silence keep,
Nor, till she call, disturbe her sleep.


8

Sponsa.
Is it a Dreame! or do I heare,
The Voice that so delights mine Eare!
Lo, he o're Hils his steps extends,
And bounding from the Cliffs descends,
Now like a Roe, out-strips the wind,
And leaves the breathed Hart behind.
Behold! without my Dearest stayes,
And through the lattice darts his Rayes.
Thus, as his looks, his words invite:
O thou the Crown of my Delight,
Arise my Love, my Faire One, rise,
O Come, delay our Ioy envyes.
Lo, the sharp Winter now is gone,
The threatning Tempests over-blown;
Harke, how the Aires Musicians sing,
And carrol to the floury Spring,

9

Chast Turtles, hous'd in shady Groves,
Now murmur to their faithfull Loves:
Green Figs on sprouting trees appear,
And Vines sweet smelling Blosomes bear.
Arise my Love, my Faire one Rise,
O Come! delay our Ioy envies.
O thou my Dove, whom Terror locks
Within the Cranies of the Rocks;
Come forth, now like thy self appear,
And with thy Voice delight mine Eare:
Thy Voice in Musick, and thy Face
All conquers with resistlesse Grace.
My lov'd Companions, for my sake,
These Foxes, these young Foxes take:
Who thus our tender Grapes destroy,
And in their prosperous Rapine joy.
I am my Loves, and He is mine;
So mutually our Souls combine!

10

He, whose affection words exceeds,
His Flock among the Lillies feeds.
Return to me my onely Dear;
Stay till the Morning Star appear;
Stay till Nights duskie shadows fly
Before the Dayes illustrious Eye.
Run like a Roe, or Hart, upon
The loftie Hils of Bitheron.

Cant. III.

Sponsa.
Stretcht on my Restlesse Bed, all night
I vainly sought my Souls Delight;
Then rose, the Citie searcht: No Street,
No Angle my unwearyed Feet
Vntraced left: Yet could not find
The Onely solace of my Mind.

11

When Lo, the Watch who walk the Round,
Me in my Souls distemper found:
Of whom, with passion, I enquir'd;
Saw you the Man so much desir'd?
Nor many steps had farther past,
But found my Love, and held him fast:
Fast held, till I the so long sought
Had to my Mothers Mansion brought.
In that adorned Chamber laid,
Of her, who gave me life, I said:
You Daughters of Ierusalem,
You Branches of that holy Stem,
I, by the Mountain Roes, and by
The Hinds, which through the Forrest fly;
Adjure you that you silence keep,
Nor, till he call, disturb his sleep.


12

Chorus.
What Beautie from the Desert comes,
Like Spires of Smoak rais'd from sweet gums!
With Aromaticke Powders fraught,
By Merchants from Sabæa brought.

Sponsa.
Behold the Bed he rests upon,
The Royall Bed of Solomon:
Twice thirtie Souldiers, who excell
In Valor, Sons of Israel,
So dreadfull to their Enemies,
Their bright Swords mounted on their thighs,
His Person guard from the affright,
And Treasons of concealing Night.
King Solomon a Chariot made,
Of Trees from Lebanon convay'd:

13

The Pillars Silver, and the Throne
With Gold of Indian Ophir shone:
With Tyrian Purple ceil'd above,
For Sions Daughters pav'd with Love.
Come Holy Virgins, O come forth,
Behold a Spectacle of worth!
Behold the Royall Solomon,
High mounted on his Fathers Throne,
Crown'd with the Crown his mother plac'd
On his smooth Brows, with Iems enchac'd,
At that solemniz'd Nuptiall Feast,
When Ioy his ravish't Soul possest.

Cant. IV.

Sponsus.
How faire art thou, how wondrous faire!
Thy Dove like Eyes in shades of Haire;

14

Whose dangling Curles appear like flocks
Of Climing Goats from Gileads Rocks:
Thy Teeth like Sheep in their return
From Chison, washt, and smoothly shorn,
None markt for barren, none of all
But equall Twins at once let fall.
Thy Lips like threds of scarlet show,
Whence gracefull accents sweetly flow:
Thy Cheeks like Punicke Apples are,
Which blush beneath thy flowing haire:
Thy Neck like Davids Armory,
With Polisht Marble rais'd on high;
Whose walls a thousand Shields adorn,
By Worthies oft in Battell born:
Thy Breasts are Twins, Twins of the Roe;
There grazing where the Lillies grow.
I to the Mountains will retire,
Where bleeding Trees perfumes expire:

15

Vntill the Morning fleck the sky,
And Nights repulsed Shadows fly.
How beautifull thy looks appear!
In every part from blemish clear!
My Spouse, at length let us be gone;
Leave we the fragrant Lebanon:
Look down from Amana, Look down
From Sheners top and Hermons Crown:
From Hils where dreadfull Lions rave,
And from the Mountain Leopards Cave.
Thou who my Spouse and Sister art;
How hast thou ravished my heart!
Struck with one glance of thy bright Eyes!
One Haire of thine in Fetters tyes!
Thy Beautie, Sister, is divine,
Thy love, my Spouse, more strong then wine.
Thy Odors, far more redolent
Then Spices from Panchaia sent:

16

Thy Lips drop Honey, from below
Thy Pallate Milke and Honey flow.
Thy Robes a sweeter Odor cast,
Then Lebanon with Cedars grac't.
My Love, by mutuall vows assur'd,
A Garden is with strength immur'd:
A Christall Fountain, a cleare Spring,
Shut up and sealed with my Ring:
An Orchard stor'd with pleasant Fruits;
Pomgranet Trees, there spread their roots,
Where sweetly smelling Camphire blows,
And never dying Spiknard grows;
Sweet Spiknard, Crocus newly blown,
Sweet Calamus and Cinamon:
Those Trees which sacred Incense shed,
The Teares of Myrrh, and Aloes bled
From bitter wounds; with all the rare
Productions which perfume the Aire.


17

Sponsa.
Those living Springs from thee proceed,
Whose Drils our plants with moisture feed:
Like Christall Streams which issue from
The Fountain-fruitfull Lebanon.
You cooler Winds breath from the North,
You dropping Southern Gales break forth;
On this our Garden gently blow,
And through the Land rich Odors throw.
Come Love, Come with a Lovers hast,
Our riper fruits and spices tast.

Cant. V.

Sponsus.
My Spouse, my Sister, thou who art
The Ioy and Treasure of my heart:
I to my Garden have retir'd,
Reapt spices which perfumes expir'd;

18

Sweet Gums from trees profusely shed,
On dropping Combs of Honey fed;
Drunk Morning Milk, with new prest Wine:
O Friends, whom like desires combine;
Eate, drink, drink freely: nor remove
Till you be all inflam'd with Love.

Sponsa.
Although I sleep my Passions wake,
For he who knockt, thus sadly spake:
My Love, my Sister, thou more mild
Then gallesse Doves, my undefil'd,
O let me enter! Night hath shed
Her Dew on my uncovered Head;
Which from my drenched Locks distils,
And with a frozen numnesse chils.
Can I assent to thy request,
Disrob'd and newly laid to rest?

19

Shall I now cloath my self again?
And feet so lately washt, distain?
But when I had his hand discern'd,
Drawn from the latch, my bowels yern'd.
I rose, no longer could defer
To unlock the Door; when liquid Myrrh,
Thence dropping, on my finger fell,
And breath'd an odoriferous smell.
But ah, when opened he was gone:
His grief fetcht from my heart a groane.
In vain I sought my Souls Belov'd;
I call'd him, ô too far remov'd!
The Watch and those who walk the Round,
In this pursuit the Afflicted found:
Smot, wounded, and prophanely tore
The Sable Veile my Sorrow wore.
You Virgins of faire Solyma,
I charge you, if you meet him, say,

20

That I his Spouse am sick for Love,
And with your teares soft pitty move.

Chorus.
O thou of all our Sex most faire,
Can none with thy belov'd compare!
Doth he so much our Loves transcend
That we alone should him intend!

Sponsa.
Lo! in his face the blushing Rose,
Ioyn'd with the Virgin Lilly, grows:
Among a Myriad he appears
The Chief, and Beauties Ensign bears.
His head adorn'd with burnisht gold,
Which Curls of shining haire infold,
Black as the newly pruned Crow:
His Eyes like Doves by Fountains show,
Late bathed in a Rivolet
Of Milk, alike exactly set:

21

His Cheeks, sweet Spice, and flowres confer,
His Lips, like Roses dropping Myrrh.
His Hand, the wondering Eye invites,
Like Rings that blaze with Chrysolites:
His Belly, pollisht Ivory,
Where Saphires in blew branches lie:
His Legs, like Marble pillars, plac'd
On Bases with pure gold inchac'd:
His Looks, like Cedars planted on
The Brows of loftie Lebanon:
His Tongue, the Eare with Musick feeds:
And he in every part exceeds.
You Daughters of Ierusalem,
Such is my Friend, my praises Theam.

Cant. VI.

Chorus.
Faire Virgin, paralel'd by none,
O whither's thy Beloved gone!

22

Direct our forward Zeal, that we
May joyn in this pursuit with thee.

Sponsa.
Behold, the more then life desir'd
Down to his Garden is retir'd:
There gathers Flowers, Feasts in the Shade,
On Beds of bruised Spices laid.
Our mutuall flame all flames exceeds:
My Dear among the Lillies feeds.

Sponsus.
Not Regall Terza, Israels
Delight, thy Beautie, Love, excels:
Not thou, Divine Ierusalem,
That art of all the World the Iem:
Nor Armies with their Ensigns spread,
So threaten with amazing Dread.

23

O turn from me thy wounding Eyes!
In every glance an Arrow flyes!
Thy dangling Haire appears like flocks
Of climing Goats from Gileads Rocks:
Thy Teeth, like Sheep in their Return
From Chison, washt and smoothly shorn;
None markt for barren, none of all
But equall Twins at once let fall:
Thy Cheeks like Punick Apples are,
Which blush beneath thy flowing Haire.
They boast of many Queens, great store
Of Concubines, and Virgins more
Then can be told: my Vndefill'd
Is all in one; the onely Child
Of her faire Mother: and brought forth
To shew the World an unknown Worth.
Queens, Virgins, Concubines, beheld,
Admir'd, and blest th'Vnparalel'd.


24

Chorus.
Who's this, who like the Morning shews,
When she her Paths with Roses strews!
More faire then the replenisht Moon,
More Radiant then the Sun at Noon:
Not Armies with their Ensigns spread.
So threaten with amazing dread.

Sponsus.
I to my pleasant Gardens went,
Where Nutmegs breath a fragrant sent,
To see the generous fruits which grac'd
The pregnant vale, with springs inchac'd:
To see the Vines disclose their Iems,
And Granets blooming on their Stems.
Then unaware, and half amaz'd,
Me thought my ravisht Soul was rais'd
Vp to a Chariot, swift as winds,
Drawn by my Peoples willing Minds.


25

Chorus.
Return faire Shulamite, return
To us, who for thy absence mourn.
What see you in the Shulamite!
Two Armies prevalent in fight.

Cant. VII.

Sponsus.
O Princesse, thou then life more dear,
How beautifull thy feet appear;
When they, with purple ribands bound,
In golden Sandals print the ground!
Thy Ioynts, like Iewels, which impart
To wondring Eyes the Workmans Art:
Thy Navell, like a Mazer, fill'd
With Iuyce from rarest fruits distill'd:
Thy Belly, like a heap of wheat,
With never fading Lillies set:

26

Thy Breasts two Roes, new weaned, show,
Which fell at once from one faire Doe:
Thy Neck, an Ivory Tower displayes:
Thine Eyes, which shine with equall Raies,
Like Heshbons Pooles by Bathrabim,
Where silver-scaled fishes swim:
Thy Nose, presents that Tower upon
The face of flowry Lebanon;
Which all the pleasant plain survays,
Where Abana her streames displays:
Thy Head, like Carmel, cloth'd with shade;
Whose Tresses Tyrian fillets brai'd.
The King, from Cypresse Galleryes,
This Chaine of strong Affection tyes.
How pleasant! O how exquisite!
Thy Beautie fram'd for sweet delight!
Thy Stature, like an upright Palme:
Thy Breasts, like Clusters dropping Balme.

27

I will ascend the Palmes high Crown,
Whose Boughes Victorious Hands renown,
And from the spreading Branches Root,
Will gather her delitious fruit.
Thy Breasts shall like ripe Clusters swell,
Thy Breath like new pull'd Citrons smell:
Choice wines shall from thy Palate spring,
Most acceptable to the King:
Which sweetly shall descend, and make
The Dumb to speak, the Dead to wake.

Sponsa.
I, my Belov'd, am onely thine,
And thou by just exchange art mine;
Come, let us tread the pleasant fields,
Tast we what fruit the Country yields,
And in the Villages repose
When shades of Night all Formes inclose.

28

Then with the early Morn repaire
To our new Vineyard; see if there
The tender Vines thrust forth their Gems,
And Granets blossom on their Stems,
There, where no frosts our Spring destroy,
Shalt thou alone my Love enjoy.
How sweet a smell our Mandrakes yield!
Our Gates with various fruits are fill'd:
Fruits that are old, fruits from the tree
New gathered, all preserv'd for thee.

Cant. VIII.

Sponsa.
O had we from one Mother sprung!
Both at her Breasts together hung!
Then should I meet thee in the Street,
With unreproved kisses greet:

29

And to my Mothers house conduct,
Where thou thy Sister shouldst instruct:
There would I spiced Wines produce,
And my Pomegranets purple Iuice;
Thy left Arme for my Pillow plac'd,
And stricktly with thy right embrac'd.
You Virgins, born in Sions Towers,
I charge you by the chief of Powers,
That you a constant silence keep,
Nor till he call, disturb his sleep.

Chorus.
Who's this, whose feet the Hils ascend
From Deserts, leaning on her Friend!

Sponsa.
I, my Belov'd first raised thee
From under the Pomecitron tree:
Thy carefull Mother, in that Shade,
With anguish, her faire Belly laid.

30

Be I, ô thou my better Part,
A Seale imprest upon thy Heart:
May I thy Fingers Signet prove,
For Death is not more strong then Love:
The Grave not so insatiate,
As Iealousies enflame debate.
Should falling Clouds with Flouds conspire,
Their waters could not quench Loves fire:
Nor all in Natures Treasury,
The Freedome of Affection buy.
We have a Sister immature,
That hath no Breasts, as yet obscure,
What Ornaments shall we bestow,
When Mortalls her Endowments know?

Sponsus.
On her, if strongly built to beare,
We will a Silver Palace reare;

31

Or, if a Doore, to deck the same,
Will Leaves of carved Cedar frame.

Sponsa.
I am a firm Foundation
For my Belov'd to build upon;
My Breasts are Towers: I, his Delight,
His object and sole Favorite.

Sponsus.
Late in Baal-Hamon Solomon
Let forth his Vineyard: every one
For Fruits and Wines there yeerely made,
A Thousand silver Sheckles payd.

Sponsa.
This Vineyard, this which I possesse,
With diligence I daily dresse.
Thou Solomon shalt have thy due:
Two hundred more remain for you,

32

(Out of the surplus of our gains)
Who in our Vineyard took such pains.

Sponsus.
O thou that in the Gardens liv'st,
And life infusing counsel giv'st
To those that in thy Songs rejoyce,
To me addresse thy cheerfull Voice.

Sponsa.
Come my Belov'd, ô come away!
Love is impatient of Delay:
Run, like a youthfull Hart, or Roe,
On Hils where precious Spices grow.

FINIS.