Pia Desideria or, Divine Addresses, In Three Books. Illustrated with XLVII. Copper-Plates. Written in Latin by Herm. Hugo. Englished by Edm. Arwaker ... The Fourth Edition, Corrected |
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 | Pia Desideria |  |
235
XV.
Make haste, my Beloved, and be like the Roe or the young Hart upon the Mountains of Spices,
Cant. viii. 14.
Haste, my bright Sun! hast from my dazzel'd Sight,
Too tender to endure thy streaming Light:
How does my Tongue my Love-sick Soul betray?
This bids him fly, whom that wou'd beg to stay.
For why shou'd I his Absence thus engage,
Which Grant will make one tedious Hour an Age?
Yet his too beauteous Beams forbid his stay;
Fly then, my Love, or lay those Beams away!
Hadst thou on me this harsh Injunction laid,
The killing sound at once had struck me Dead:
But thy own Flame, not I, wou'd have it so,
I shou'd be Ages in pronuncing Go!
I wou'd not wish what now I do intreat;
Then stay, and let me not perswade Thee yet!
Stay, stay my Life, and turn the deafned Ear!
Sure what I wou'd not Speak, you shou'd not Hear.
Hence let the Wind my feign'd Petition bear!
'Twas Fear, not I, that form'd the hasty Pray'r.
Yet (oh!) this melting Heat forbids your stay;
Fly, fly, my Love, I burn if you delay.
Oh! let your Haste outstrip the hunted Hind;
But that's too slow; fly like the nimble Wind!
Fly till thou leav'st ev'n flagging thought behind!
Yet in thy Flight a longing Look bestow,
A speaking Glance, to shew thee loath to go.
But that once cast, renew your Speed away:
Fly, fly, my Love, there's Death in your delay!
Behold those lofty Sky-saluting Hills,
Where rich Perfume from weeping Trees distills!
Where Lawrels, Cedars, and soft Myrtles grow,
And all the Spice Arabia can bestow:
To their high tops direct thy nimble Flight,
Till thou, like them, art vanish'd from my Sight!
Fly to the heights where the gay Seraphs Sing,
And the young Cherubs exercise their Wing!
Fly till the Stars appear as much below
Thy Station, as they are above it now!
Those places are inur'd to Heat and Fire,
And what I dread, is what they most desire.
One Spark's sufficient to inflame my Soul;
Oh! do not then consume me with the whole!
Then let thy haste the hunted Hind out-go!
And yet, methinks, thou shoud'st not leave me so!
Fly where thou often may'st with ease look back,
Nor from my Sight too far a Journey take:
But keep such distance as the glorious Sun,
When with most Light he gilds the pale-fac'd Moon!
Ah! this discov'ry of my Soul forgive!
I cannot with thee, nor without thee, live.
If thou art near, I burn; remote, I freeze;
And either distance does alike displease.
Then so approach me, Lord, I thee desire,
That I may feel thy Warmth, but not thy Fire.
Fly, then, my Life! fast as the hunted Deer;
But go no more too far, than stay too near!
And when th'art gone, on reedy Pipes I'll play,
And sing thy Praises in an amourous Lay;
And when I've wearied out the tedious Night,
With a new Task I will my Self Delight.
I'll carve at large on ev'ry spreading Tree
Our Loves Original and History.
What Time remains I'll dedicate to Sleep,
Yet still my waking Thoughts lov'd Object keep.
Too tender to endure thy streaming Light:
How does my Tongue my Love-sick Soul betray?
This bids him fly, whom that wou'd beg to stay.
For why shou'd I his Absence thus engage,
Which Grant will make one tedious Hour an Age?
Yet his too beauteous Beams forbid his stay;
Fly then, my Love, or lay those Beams away!
Hadst thou on me this harsh Injunction laid,
The killing sound at once had struck me Dead:
But thy own Flame, not I, wou'd have it so,
I shou'd be Ages in pronuncing Go!
I wou'd not wish what now I do intreat;
Then stay, and let me not perswade Thee yet!
Stay, stay my Life, and turn the deafned Ear!
Sure what I wou'd not Speak, you shou'd not Hear.
236
'Twas Fear, not I, that form'd the hasty Pray'r.
Yet (oh!) this melting Heat forbids your stay;
Fly, fly, my Love, I burn if you delay.
Oh! let your Haste outstrip the hunted Hind;
But that's too slow; fly like the nimble Wind!
Fly till thou leav'st ev'n flagging thought behind!
Yet in thy Flight a longing Look bestow,
A speaking Glance, to shew thee loath to go.
But that once cast, renew your Speed away:
Fly, fly, my Love, there's Death in your delay!
Behold those lofty Sky-saluting Hills,
Where rich Perfume from weeping Trees distills!
Where Lawrels, Cedars, and soft Myrtles grow,
And all the Spice Arabia can bestow:
To their high tops direct thy nimble Flight,
Till thou, like them, art vanish'd from my Sight!
Fly to the heights where the gay Seraphs Sing,
And the young Cherubs exercise their Wing!
Fly till the Stars appear as much below
Thy Station, as they are above it now!
Those places are inur'd to Heat and Fire,
And what I dread, is what they most desire.
One Spark's sufficient to inflame my Soul;
Oh! do not then consume me with the whole!
237
And yet, methinks, thou shoud'st not leave me so!
Fly where thou often may'st with ease look back,
Nor from my Sight too far a Journey take:
But keep such distance as the glorious Sun,
When with most Light he gilds the pale-fac'd Moon!
Ah! this discov'ry of my Soul forgive!
I cannot with thee, nor without thee, live.
If thou art near, I burn; remote, I freeze;
And either distance does alike displease.
Then so approach me, Lord, I thee desire,
That I may feel thy Warmth, but not thy Fire.
Fly, then, my Life! fast as the hunted Deer;
But go no more too far, than stay too near!
And when th'art gone, on reedy Pipes I'll play,
And sing thy Praises in an amourous Lay;
And when I've wearied out the tedious Night,
With a new Task I will my Self Delight.
I'll carve at large on ev'ry spreading Tree
Our Loves Original and History.
What Time remains I'll dedicate to Sleep,
Yet still my waking Thoughts lov'd Object keep.
But see how while I speak I melt away!
Haste your ungrateful Flight without delay!
Yet go as tho' you this Departure mourn,
And all your haste were for a quick Return.
Haste your ungrateful Flight without delay!
Yet go as tho' you this Departure mourn,
And all your haste were for a quick Return.
268
The Soul desires that her Beloved would be gone, because now she is able to follow him in his Flight.
Amb. de bono Mortis, cap. 5.
| Pia Desideria | |