University of Virginia Library

II. [Part II]

SONG OF SONGS:

A Divine Pastoral Poem, Written in the first Language BY Solomon King of Israel, The inspir'd Manuensis of the Holy Ghost, Justly acknowledged by the Church of God under both Dispensations to be a Portion of the sacred Canon.

[Let me behold thy reconciled Face]

[O Glory to the King, who's Favour I have sought]

O Glory to the King, who's Favour I have sought:
I see his Face, I'm to his Chambers brought.
Great Dignity he doth on me bestow,
[illeg.] taste his Love, my Spices sweetly flow:
[illeg.] secret Fellowship, and closs Communion know.
I'm privileged to be Jesus Guest,
[illeg.] all the Pleasures of Religion taste:
My mournful Ditties chang'd to Songs of Joy,
Love doth my Tongue, and all my Soul employ.
My Fears evainsh'd, all my Sorrows fled;
Bless him my Soul, and in his Courts be glad;
Where he has plac'd Love's Banner o'er thy Head.
The Scene is alter'd, what a Change is this;
She is embrac'd, who only ask'd a Kiss:
She's by the Bridegroom to his Chambers brought,
Receives far greater Favours than she sought.
Here's Dignity bestow'd, here's Honour given;
She's made a Friend and Favourite of Heaven.
The World admires the Man, to him they Homage pay,
Promoted by the little Kings of Clay,
Whose Grandeur brings Uneasiness and Pain;
And mortal Breath can blow him down again.
But oh! the Spouse in this exalted State,
Hath Peace and Joy, that's durable and great.

Unto the learn'd and pious Paraphraser of the Canticles, AND Author of the following sacred Composures.

CHORUS FIDELIUM.

Not such a Song as charms the Ear alone,
And Joy is vanish'd when the Musick's gone:
Not such as heightens Pleasure at the Wine,
And Heaven born Souls to low Delights incline,
This is a Song of Love, a Song divine.

SONG OF SONGS

Persons Represented, &c.

• Beloved or Bridegroom, The Son of God.
• Spouse or Bride, The Church or Believers.
• Mother, The visible Church.
• Mother's Children, Professors.
• Watchmen or Friends, Prophets or Gospel Ministers.
• Daughters of Jerusalem or Virgins, Church Members.
• Little Sister, Gentile World.

DIALOGUE I. PROLOGUE.

Bridegroom, Bride.

BRIDE.

BRIDEGROOM:

BRIDE.

BRIDEGROOM.
Love can't be Silent, I must own you're Fair,
There's none on Earth who can with you compare,
Behold thou'rt Fair! much of thy Beauty lyes,
In thy meek, modest, lovely Dove-like Eyes.

BRIDE.
O my Beloved's Match was never seen!
Come, and Solace upon this Bed of Green:
Spread o'er my Head a Canopy of Love,
For thou'rt the Grace, yea Glory of the Grove;
Thy presence makes the Shade to look like Kedar,
Its Rafters are of Fir, its Beams are Cedar.

DIALOGUE II.

BRIDEGROOM.
I am the Soul refreshing Sharon's Rose,
The Lillie which in Syrian's Valley grows;
As 'mongst a bush of Thorns and prickling Brier,
A spreading pale fac'd Lillie doth appear,
So 'mongst the Daughters looks my Well-belov'd.

BRIDE.
As in a barren Wood, the Apple Tree,
Deck'd with its gaudy Blossoms, so is he
Amongst the Sons of Men; with Joy I chose
Under his lasting Shadow to repose,
And whilst his luscious Fruit did bless my Taste,
I sat with Raptures at the kingly Feast.
At length, conducted by the mighty Jove,
Unto the House of Banqueting we move;
O there his Banner over me was Love.
Stay me with Flaggons, let the Apples prove
Comforting to me for I'm sick of Love:
But his left Hand lyeth underneath my Head,
When willing, tho' unable to bear up,
His right Hand, which the longing Soul doth feed,
Sustains me closs at Consolations Cup.
I charge you, O Jerusalem's Daughters, then
If ye would lasting Fellowship maintain;
If my Enjoyments ye would always taste,
O be exceeding tender of your Guest.
I charge you by the Kids and tender Roes,
For who would be so cruel unto those,
As to disturb them of their soft Repose,
You don't presume to interrupt his Ease,
Or wake my sleeping Lord until he please:
To the cœlestial Melody give ear,
For this is my Beloved's Voice I hear.
Behold him skiping on the Mountains high,
Escaping o'er Hills swift as the Eagles fly:
O Saints behold him, by Experience know,
He's lovely as the Hart, or little am'rous Roe.
For tho' my draught of closs Communion's gone,
And I my dead deserted Case bemoan,
Yet from behind the Wall my Lord still looketh on.
Kind are the Blinks he from the Window gives,
He Love Epistles writes, and mine receives;
For tho' his vast Discoveries be remov'd,
He thro' the Lattise tells I'm still belov'd.
He's reconcil'd again, doth sweetly say,
Rise up my Love, my fair one come away;
For lo the Winter of Desertion's past,
Rains of Afflictions are dry'd up at last,
And I return to you with eager haste.
Choice flow'rs of Grace within thy Soul doth spring,
Zion's beautious Birds their chearfull Notes do sing;
The charming Voice of the dear Turtle's heard,
And ev'ry rav'nous Bird hath disappear'd.
My Vineyard, my Delight, my Joy, my Care,
(For all the Plants of Grace are nourish'd there)
Looks Fair and Fertile, O I love it well,
The chearing Vines send forth a fragrant Smell;
Each little Shrub the Planters Livry wears,
Loaden with Fruit the thriving Fig appears;
All these invite me, I'll no longer stay,
Rise up my Love, my fair one come away.

BRIDEGROOM.

BRIDE:
Tho' no fresh Gales, no gentle Breezes blow,
No Dew distills, no Streams the Banks o'erflow,
My Unions solid; I'll rejoyce in this,
That my Beloved's mine, and I am his.
Can he be absent long, who loves so well,
It's in his Garden he delights to dwell;
It's there he prunes his Boughs, and sows his Seed,
It's 'mongst the Lillies he delights to Feed.
Until the dawning of the blessful Day,
That sable Train of Shadows fly away,
And Saints, broke through the Cage, aloft shall fly,
And meet and mingle with the Saints on high.
O with thy kind Embraces visit me,
I'm weary to be separate from thee:
Swift as the nimble Hart on Bethar goes,
Swift as on Bethar's Mountains skip the Roes,
So swiftly my Beloved, come to me,
Let me enjoy sweet Fellowship with thee.

DIALOGUE III.

Bride, Bridegroom.
BRIDE.
When Nights black Mantle hath the Skies o'erspread
Loves anxious Fears disturb me on my Bed;
The Object of my Love I ever mind,
In vain I seek him whom I cannot find:
Awake my Soul, shake of the Chains of Sleep,
No longer Converse with Corruption keep;
Combat the fiercest Lust, my Lord to please,
O do not dally with a carnal Ease.
I'll rise, and round the City Streets I'll rove,
I'll sally forth to meet the God of Love:
Ev'ry broad Way, and secret Corner trace,
Seek him in ev'ry Ordinance of Grace;
I'll ne'er give o'er till I behold his Face.
I sought, and O its sad to miss him there,
The God of Jacob in the House of Prayer,
But could not find him on my bended knees,
With bleeding Heart I offer Sacrifice.
I sought him in the Fellowship of Saints,
I sought him whilst my Eyes in Tears was drown'd;
But lo he's Deaff to all my loud Complaints,
I sought him, but he was not to be found.
At length I'm by the careful Watchmen found,
Who with unwearied Zeal perform the painful round;
To whom I cry, ye Pilots of the blind,
Direct my wand'ring Steps, my Love to find:
O saw ye him, my kind Instructors, tell,
Whom my deserted Soul doth love so well;
Tell me when my Beloved's hid from you,
What Methods do you take, what Course pursue.
I left these Pastors but a little Space,
When I had full Discoveries of his Face;
Fresh Smiles speaks Peace, his gentle Looks do move,
O! I have found him whom my Soul doth love.
With rapt'rous Joy, which none but Saints do know,
I clasp'd him, and I cannot let him go,
Until I bring him home
Unto my Mother's House, the House of God,
To th'inmost Chambers of her bless'd abode;
For I remember'd whilst I suck'd the Comb,
The hungry Sisters of my Native Home,
Who do not taste the vast, the wond'rous Bless,
But faint with Famine in the Wilderness.
I charge you, O Jerusalem's Daughters then,
That you sweet Fellowship with him maintain:
Of my Enjoyments you would always taste,
O be exceeding tender of your Guest.
I charge you by the tender Kids and Roes,
Whose Keepers dont disturb their soft Repose,
O let not Sin and a polluted Heart
Awaken my Love, and force him to depart.

BRIDEGROOM.
Who's this with dazling Splender blinds the Eye,
In whose fair Face such Charms, such Love I spy;
Who's this array'd in rich embroider'd Dress,
Come flaming from the stormy Wilderness.
As smoaky Pillars from the Incense rise,
So on the Wings of Love she from the Desart flys,
Perfum'd with Myrrh, smells like the flow'ry Spring,
With odours, and with Incense meets her King:
With Pouders choice, of which the Merchant boasts,
She's richly freighted for Immanual's Coasts.

BRIDE.
O from my borrow'd Beauty turn thine Eyes,
I see a Sun with uncreated Rays;
Behold King Solomon with Glory spread,
Behold him leaning on his Iv'ry Bed;
Where Saints with holy Fellowship are fed.
A Guard of sixty Warriours rails the Place,
Strong valiant Isra'lites, made bold by Grace;
Not naked Sentinels, fam'd Sons of War,
Who from the holy Spot, unholy Souls debar.
Expert in War by long Experience grown,
They fight with Valour for a heavenly Crown:
The slaughtering Sword hangs closely at their Thigh
They nobly fight and conquer th'Enemy:
With Armour cloth'd, still ready for the Fight,
They fear no Foe, nor Terrours through the Night.
A Chariots made by great King Solomon,
Of fitest Wood, the Wood of Lebanon:
Such is his matchless Love, O Saints behold,
Its Pillars Silver, and its Bottom Gold:
With purple Coverings adorn'd above,
The midst is pav'd, for Zion's sake, with Love.
O Zion's Daughters, with a cheerful sound
Rush forth; behold King Solomon is crown'd;
That Crown he wears, that Scepter he doth sway,
His Mother gave him on his nuptial Day:
A memorable Day for Joy and Mirth,
When he rejoyc'd in Heart, and blest the Earth.

DIALOGUE IV.

Bridegroom, Bride.
Bridegroom.

My Spouse,

BRIDE.

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.

DIALOGUE. VI.

Daughters of Jerusalem, Bride, Birdegroom.
Daughters of Jerusalem.
O what a Person is your well Belov'd,
'O what can be the Cause why he's remov'd?
Tell us thou fairest amongst Womankind?
We'll go in Quest of him, you long to find.

Bride.
Yes, I can tell you where he doth repair,
Walk in his Garden, and you'll find him there.
It's in that sacred Spot he loves to be;
But, tho' I seek him there, he's hid from me.
Tis 'mongst his Spicy Beds and Flowers he dwells,
And feeds and feasts on their comforting Smells.
Gathers these Lillies, which his Hands hath sown,
Lillies by true Propriety his own.
Yet why should I with anxious Cares repine,
Since I am my Beloved's, he is mine.
I am a Flower which in his Garden grows,
He feeds 'mongst Lillies, I am one of those.

Bridegroom.
As Tirzah seated on a rising Ground,
Tirzah for Strength and Beauty so renown'd,
So beautiful art thou with Honour crown'd.
O comely as Jerusalem art thou,
To all who's holy Eyes thy Beauty view.
But terrible to all thine Enemies,
As conquering Armies in their victor Cries.
O turn away thine Eyes my Love from me,
I'm overcome, I'm ravished with thee.
As pleasant 'tis from neighbouring Vales to view,
The Flocks of brousing Goats on Gilead's Brow,
Drink Nature's Cup, and sip the Morning's Dew.
So pleasant 'tis my Love for to behold,
Thy shining Rays of purest burning Gold:
This Ornament thy Purity discovers,
Kindles Desire, and gains thee many Lovers.
When the lewd World thy Hair and Teeth shall view,
They'll praise thy Beauty, fall in Love with you.
They will believe thy Entertainment good,
When such white Teeth do break the heavenly Food:
Thy Teeth a comely Parity doth show,
None start too high, and none do shrink too low:
No proud o'ertoping Tooth thy Peace molest,
Ev'n are they rank'd, none Prelates o'er the rest.
Thy Teeth doth represent ------
The new fleec'd Sheep disburthen'd of their Wool,
When neatly shorn, and wash'd in Heshbon's Pool.
In all the Flock no unprolifick Womb,
Which Twins bring forth, and bleating lead them Home.
Vail'd with thy Locks like Pom'granates appear
Thy Temples, which a blushing Beauty wear:
The Court of Solomon is wondrous fair,
There's sixty Queens, and eighty Conc'bines there.
There smiling Virgins without Number throng,
Virgins that's chast and beautiful and young:
These shining Comets turn as black's the Night,
When thou appears, O radiant Lamp of Light.
My Dove, my only One, my Undefil'd,
Thy Mother's only and her darling Child,
O Daughter born of God, I love thee well,
Thy Cath'lick Truths shall Heresie dispell.
The Daughters thou'lt conceive, begot by me,
When they thy Government and Worship see,
Drink thy pure Doctrine, eat thy strengthning Bread,
Will beg my Blessings on thy lofty Head.
Yea ev'n the Queens and Concubines shall view
Thy Splendor, and be forc'd to bless thee too.
Who's this looks forth, and chases Night away.
Bright as these Beams which smiling brings the Day,
Clear as the Moon, free from the Clouds of Night,
Fair as the rising Sun, which brings the Light,
[illeg.] terrible you look (the trembling World's afraid)
As Armies with their Banners all display'd.
I went the tender creeping Shrubs to view,
And brambly Nuts, which in the Orchard grew,
To see the Valleys and the lowly Plains,
If they were stor'd with Flowers, refresh'd with Rains,
If clustring Vines did flourish in the Field,
What Buds the luscious Pom'granates did yield,
When lo I spy my Bride in these sweet Groves;
She swiftly flies to him, she dearly loves:
Transported to behold my lovely Spouse,
Whom I from all Eternity did chuse,
Unto her Arms my self with haste I throw;
As Chariots of Aminadab do go,
When hastning to the Race, or lashing from the Foe.
Return thou lovely Shulamite, return,
For in strong Fires of Love for thee I burn.

Bride or Shulamite.
O! here's no Landskip to arrest your Sight,
What can you see in the poor Shulamite?
Yes, I have Beauty will attract your Eyes,
Behold I've Troops to conquer Enemies;
Each at his Post defended by his Shield
With giant Strength the weighty Armour wield,
I have two reg'lar Armies in the Field.

DIALOGUE. VII.

Bridegroom, Bride.
Bridegroom.
O Princes Daughter, noble is thy Birth,
Thou'rt sprung from Heav'n, altho' ally'd to Earth.
How beautiful's thy Feet, my charming Spouse,
Richly adorned with the Gospel Shoes.
Your full of Vigour, and your ever young,
Thy Thighs are nervous, and they're firmly strung.
As Jewels polish'd with the Workman's Art,
So is thy Joints, thy Thighs, thy ev'ry Part.
Thy Children form'd, soon to Perfection grows:
Thy Navel's like the Cup which overflows:
Thy Infants feed on Nourishment divine:
Thy Navel's as a Goblet fill'd with Wine:
Thy Womb's a fertile, not a barren Bed;
Where Babes with proper Nourishment are fed:
When ripe for solid and substantial Meat,
O, then thy Belly's like a Sheaf of Wheat:
O but its comely round that Sheaf to view,
A row of aged Lillies sprung from you.
Thy Saints are glad when Fellowship begins,
They love thy swelling Breasts, and loath their Sins,
Thy Breasts are like two tender Roes that's Twins.
That strong conspicuous lofty Rock, thy Neck,
Shall thee from all thy Enemies protect.
It's amiable, as it is secure,
A Fort impregnable, an Ivory Tow'r.
Thy Eyes like Heshbon's Pools nigh Bethram's Streams,
Fam'd for its Fish, and for its verdant Gleams,
Clear are these Eyes as running silver Brooks,
Thy Nose like Leb'non's Tow'r, which to Damascus looks;
As Carmal o'er the Hills his lofty Head doth shew,
You look to Heav'n, and smile on all below.
Thy Head is richly deck'd with purple Hair:
O every Part of thee is wondrous fair.
When in our House I meet thee, I must stay,
I'm chain'd with Charms, I cannot go away.
How fair and lovely art thou to my Sight,
I am thy Bridgroom, thou art all Delight:
Thy Stature's like the Palm, and faultless is thy Shape:
Thy Breasts are like the Clusters of the Grape:
I'll to this Palm, which in my Garden grows,
And sit with pleasure on the verdant Boughs.
To me will prove the Fountain of thy Breast,
Like Clusters of the Vine when newly press'd.
Thy Nose such Perfumes as the Apple gives,
When bending low the Sprig forsakes the Leaves.
Thy Pallate, O my Spouse, is quick and good;
Sweet is thy Relish of spiritual Food.
The richest Wine which sparkles in the Bowl,
Which drunk with Thirst, revives the fainting Soul
And makes the drowzy rise with vigour up,
And talk by Talents o'er the glad'ning Cup,
Is not so pleasant, no it ne'er can be,
As is thy holy Relish unto me.
Thy Soul's Delight is set on Things divine,
For thy Belov'd thou keeps thy richest Wine.

BRIDE.
My Soul's unite to him, I'll joy in this,
That my Beloved's mine, and I am his;
My Pardon's seal'd, his smiling Face I see,
I'm dear to him, his Love is set on me.
Thy Presence, my Beloved, warms my Heart,
O to my Soul draw nigh, let's never part;
Thro' Messech's Fields let us together go,
Let's lodge in Kedar's Villages below.
O lead and feed thy dearly purchass'd Spouse,
Till she is brought unto the upper House:
Unto thy Vineyard quickly let us bound,
For that's thy Spot, thy own peculiar Ground:
To view thy royal Nurs'ry, let us know,
What sapless Trees decay, and which do grow;
If Vines do flourish, and their Grapes appear,
Hast'ning to ripe, the Planter's Heart to chear,
If Pom'granates a lovely Garment wear.
There I'll solace thee in these happy Groves,
Charm thee with Faith, delight thee with my Loves:
Comforting Flavours do my Mandrakes yield,
A Wilderness of Sweets is my enclosed Field:
The very Entry doth afford Delight,
Where green and mellow Fruit arrest the Sight;
For thee the Gardens dress'd, under this Shade
Let us my dear Beloved make our Bed.

DIALOGUE VIII.

Bride, Bridegroom.
BRIDE.
I long to see these Halcyon-Days to come,
When an incarnate God shall bless a Virgin's Womb.
O Shadows fly away, O Time draw near,
When thou in humane Nature shall appear,
With all our sinless Miseries opprest,
Become a Child and suck the Mother's Breast.
Without Jerus'lem's Wall I'll find my Lord,
For every Place his Presence shall afford;
Then shall I Kiss thee and not be revil'd,
When Gentiles see the Prophecy fulfill'd:
Unto my Mother's House, my Lord I'll bring,
For she'll instruct me how to please my King.
We'll walk in Pomp like those, whom nuptial Rites
Unto the joyful Weding-House invites:
My Bridegroom drink the spiced Wine of Love,
Like Juice of Pom'granates 'twill cheering prove;
He won't be 'sham'd to own me for his Bride,
He will not for my holy Freedom chide.
His right Hand shall embrace me whilst we feed,
And his left Hand be underneath my Head,
I charge you, O Jerus'lem's Daughters, then
That you a constant Fellowship maintain,
Wait for the dawning of the glorious Morn,
When he the true Messias shall be born.
O see when ye his Presence do enjoy,
That no Offence your lovely Guest annoy;
Do not awake him with Corruption's Noise,
If you'd be fill'd with strong tumultuous Joys.
I charge you then, you don't disturb his Ease;
Force him not to remove before he please.

BRIDEGROOM.
Who's this so strongly bent for heav'nly Bless,
With eager haste springs from the Wilderness;
No rugged Paths she fears, she can't be mov'd,
For she is leaning on her Well-belov'd.
O happy Traveller, from this earthly Ball,
Who leans on him, who cannot let her fall.
Under the shadow of the Apple Tree,
I found a Bride and drew her unto me;
Thy Mother in that Shade conceived you,
And underneath its Boughs I found thee too:
Thy Mother bore thee there, and then was blest,
With the Reward of all her Labours past.

BRIDE.
My Love let me thy dear Affection feel,
Imprint me on thy Heart, there stamp me as a Seal;
Upon thy Arm let me engraven be,
There fix me as a Seal, love's Signet make thou me.
O let my flame of Love be satisfied,
Loves Floods o'erwhelm me with a raging Tide;
Love's strong as Death, who can withstand its Power,
When jealous like the Grave it doth devour.
I'm, my beloved, jealous of thy stay,
What keeps my Love? What makes the long delay?
Loves Coals burn fiercer than the Coals of Fire,
O vehement's the Flames of Loves Desire:
Ten Thousand Rivers, cannot quench my Rage,
Nay the whole Ocean can't the Flames asswage.
These feed it's burning Lust; it's fiery Womb
The Floods and Rivers and the Seas o'ercome:
When once a Fire he kindles in the Mind,
The Soul no Pleasure in the World can find;
The cordial Drops of Heaven it longs to have,
The World turns Trash, seems rotten like the Grave.
Love won't capitulate with th'earthly Man,
Christ's only fair, and all the World looks wan:
Should Earth give Bribes, Heav'ns Lover to forsake,
An Offer of its choicest Treasures make,
Give all the Substance of the World, 'twould prove
In vain to these inflam'd with heav'nly Love.
Earth's lost its Lustre, he's the dazling Gem;
Presents of Gold they'd scornfully contemn;
They court a Crown a heav'nly Diadem.
But, O sweet Lover! whilst I pant for thee,
Breath short, and gasp, thy Glory for to see,
Whilst humbly I implore thy Love and Grace,
And fondly court the Shinings of thy Face,
Dare I forget our little Sister's Case.
My Love, we have a little Sister, she,
Invelopt in a Cloud thy Beauty cannot see,
Exert almighty Pow'r, and draw her unto thee.
She hath no Breasts, she's a deformed Vine;
Yet she's thy future Spouse, then make her thine,
Deck her with wedding Robes and make her shine.
O when thy forming Fingers moulds her right,
And she looks glorious in the World's sight,
In Pomp appears, and shines with heav'nly Light.
O what shall we for our dear Sister do,
To bring her nigh and wed her unto you:
When you'll thy long delayed Visit make,
What shall we do for our dear Sister's sake,
That she may of our Privilege partake.
Yes, firmly we're resolv'd upon the thing,
We'll her with solemn Preparation bring,
Upon the Wedding-Day to meet the King.
If she for Strength like brazen Wall appear,
Upon her silver Palaces we'll rear:
If she a Door do prove, thy En'mies to keep out,
She's be enclos'd with Cedar-Boards about.
With Beauty, Strength and Honour she'll command,
And spread her numerous Issue thro' the Land;
Her Greatness the astonish'd World shall see;
In Strength and Grandeur she shall rival me.
Me, whom the envying World do Happy call,
A Rock impregnable, a Castle Wall.
I am a Wall, my swelling Breasts are Tow'rs,
But Oh, my Love, my Strength and Beauties yours!
From thee the Fountain Head, my Mercies rise;
For I found Grace and Favour in thine Eyes:
Hence I'm thro' all the Universe renound,
Because thou has my Head with Glory crown'd,
And I with Grace and Love and Strength abound.
I'll tell the list'ning World what he's done,
I'll sound the Praises of my Solomon:
For me, King Solomon was at the pains
T'enclose a Vineyard in Balhamon's Plains.
He farm'd it out to Labourers for a Rent,
Ten thousand Pieces was the Equivalent
Each Keeper yearly to the Land-Lord sent.
The Fruit rewarded ev'ry virtuous one;
Enrich'd the Frugal, but it starv'd the Dron:
My Vineyard, which is mine, before me lies;
It's still the darling Object of mine Eyes.
O Solomon, the Rents be paid by me,
A Thousand silver Pieces I'll give thee,
Each Keeper of the Fruit two hundred for their Fee.
O thou who dwellest in the gladsome Grove
Behold the dear Companions of my Love
Listen unto the Musick of thy Tongue,
And never think the blessed Hours too long;
No, they are all in Rapture with thy Song.
When they're made glad, being intertain'd by you,
Make me a Sharer in the Pleasures too;
With equal Warmth and Gratitude rejoyce,
I'll in strong Numbers sing with rapt'rous Noise,
When I in Consort join, and hear my Lovers Voice.
O my Beloved! fly with Lovers haste!
O! when shall Days and Hours, and Years be past,
And Time, dull tedious Time, no longer last.
Make swift Approaches, let my Bridgroom go
Swiftly, as on the Spicy Hills the Roe:
Swifter than the young nimble Hart can flie
Let thy Appearance unto Judgment be;
I shall be Happy then thro' all Eternitie.

A Sabbath-Days Thoughts UPON THE Love of Jesus.

With heavenly Eloquence, Lord, fill my Soul,
O fire my dead Heart with an Altar Coal:
Not from Parnassus, but from Zion's Hill
Let sacred Streams into my Heart distill.
Inspire my Heart with strong Seraphick Verse,
A Saviour's melting Mercies to rehearse;
I'll sing mysterious Love to all the Universe.
O bounteous Heaven, thy Mercy I adore,
Thou Blessings gives till I can ask no more;
Blessings, which I cou'd never thought upon,
The Rich, the Royal Gift, thy only Son.
Before thy Power and Wisdom was display'd,
In this bright Fabrick which thy Hands have made,
Whilst th'Elements did in dark Chaos sleep,
Ere yet thy Spirit brooded o'er the Deep,
Or shining Angels took their Seats above,
Thy blessful Bosom Glory hatch'd and Love;
Thy sempeternal Love was fixt on Man,
Ere he a Being got, or Time began:
Th'eternal Counsel had decreed his Peace,
For thy Delight was with the unborn Race.
Six Days the new born World had seen the Sun,
When God review'd the wondrous Works he'd done;
The young Creation he beheld with Joy,
But Man was wanting yet, the great Vice-Roy:
God gives him Being, and imperial Sway,
He stamps his Image on the living Clay;
To Man an high Immortal Soul is given,
Capable of Intelligence with Heaven.
In Eden's Courts, th'Almighty's depute King
In Honour and in Innocence did reign;
The Vassal Brutes with Acclamations meet
Their Monarch, and pay Homage at his Feet:
Freely commanded all his Eyes did see,
Except a single Sacramental Tree.
Touch not its Fruit, you dy if this you do,
Was the Reddendo of th'Almighty's Feu:
But Heaven's Friend and Favorite did rebel,
From Grandeur, and from sweet Communion fell,
Sunk with his Sin and Guilt, became an Heir of Hell.
'Mongst Bushes sneakes, to hide his blushing Face,
At once he forfeit Paradise and Grace,
Destroy'd himself and all his unborn Race.
Expell'd th'Elysium he enjoy'd before,
Whilst armed Cherubims defend the Door,
Poor fall'n Adam must return no more.
He from delicious Arbors posts away,
Where Summer dwells, and every Month is May:
No more God's blooming Garden doth he tread,
Flowers hang their withered Heads, their Master's fled
The Morning Lark awakes with piteous Moan,
The lovely Empire's sunk, her Monarch's gone;
And th'Evening Philomel laments the vacant Throne.
With mournful Ditties, sing's the drooping Thrush,
And tragick Threnes are heard from every Bush;
Complaining Notes tell all the Quire's oppress'd,
Thy solemn Dirgies sing with throbing Breast.
The Nightinagle forgets to build her Nest,
With melancholy Murmurs Rivers flow,
They chide their Banks, and pebbles as they go.
Waves roll with double Force, and haste away,
To bury Grief and Sorrow in the Sea.
Fair Eva visites not the chrystal Brook,
The chrystal Glass no more returns her Look.
The watery Mirrour shews no more her Face,
Like Angels, full of Majesty and Grace;
Ah, Now its stain'd with Sin and black with deep Disgrace.
Winds whistle thro' the leaves their angry Breath;
All Nature's pregnant with the Signs of Wrath.
No more the simples Smile; the myrtle Shade,
Where the dear happy Lovers took their Bed,
Seems now alone for sighing Sinners made.
The fatal Fruit hath pull'd the Monarch down,
Satan triumphs for Adam's lost the Crown;
He cannot look to God, nor bear his angry Frown.
Ah, must he dy! Can no Relief be found?
Yes, Mercy comes to heal the bleeding Wound;
Free Grace and Love ope' up a glorious Scene,
God's reconcil'd, and Man's restor'd again.
Adam is Victor, Satan quits the Field,
Lo there's a Promise, made, a Christ reveald;
From all Eternity it was decreed,
Th'Elect's be saved by the Woman's Seed,
A Saviour shall be born to bruise the Serpents Head.
Mary's Conception in appointed Time,
Fully atone for Mother Eva's Crime:
The flaming Sword, which Seraphs did command,
Shines in a glorious Mediator's Hand:
Th'Angel of the Cov'nant saves from Sin,
Opens Heavens Gates, and leads Believers in.
Exulting Prophets spread the News abroad,
And legal Pomp proclaims th'approaching God:
Isaiah's Voice transports the list'ning Throng,
His hallowed Lips pour forth the Gospel Song.
“From your low Posture and obscure retreat
“Arise and shine, and feel the welcome Heat;
“No more ly folded in the Arms of Night,
“Lo your Horizon's cloth'd with Beams of Light.
“No Torch we need t'illuminate the Way,
“The rising Sun doth chase the Shades away;
“We'll bask in Beams of Light and bless the joyful Day.
“O yes, o yes, on this transparent Morn,
“A Virgin shall bring forth, Immanuel shall be born:
Thus spoke Messiah's Harbenger of old,
Who with divine Impulse the Olive-Age fortold;
So gilds the rising Morn, the wide Expanse,
Ere Sol in golden Chariot doth advance;
To invite the drousie World from Orpheus's Chains,
Awakes the Earth to view the opening Scenes.
The Jessian Babe's fortold in every Age,
Old Testament Bards, who shook with sacred Rage,
Record th'auspicious Birth; the God's in every Page.
The Prophets Breasts were pain'd with holy Flame
Till they reveal his Power, and sing his glorious Name:
A glader Voice is heard, when they are dead,
The Evangelick Prophet doth succeed.
On barren Heaths the Preacher doth appear,
In rustick Weed, a Web of Camels Hair,
Who's venerable Figure doth exhort,
To hate the gaudy Fin'ry of a Court.
Plain like his Looks and Sermons he is dress'd,
A leathern Girdle wrapt around his Waste:
The reverend Fawn, in Life and Looks austere,
No Carnival e'er knew his Diet spare.
No Pickles did fresh Appetite provoke,
He Locusts eat, and Honey from the Rock;
His pious Life was one continued Lent,
The Sum of all his Eloquence, repent.
Malachy's divine Prophesies made clear,
A loud melodious Voice proclaims a Saviour near:
“Prepare, prepare to meet the coming God,
“Level each rugged Passage of his Road.
“Welcome the Son of God from's Throne above,
“Meet him upon his Embassy of Love:
“With joyful Hearts a filial Homage pay,
“Make straight the crooked Paths, prepare a Saviour's Way.

MEDITATIONS In Sickness, Upon several Texts of Scripture relating to the Resurrection.

MEDITATION I.

[Servet opus Deus ille Deus, quo territa tellus]

MEDITATION II.

[My Soul come meditate the Day]

MEDITATION III.

A DISCRIPTION OF THE Person of Jesus Christ,

Written by Publius Lentulus President of Judeah, to the Senate of Rome.

Judea 's famous grown; 'tis the abode
Of Jesus Christ, a Prophet sent from God:
His Disciples call him a Deity,
Worship him as the Son of the most high;
A Man of holy Life and spotless Purity.
His mighty Pow'r and Miracles is such,
He cureth all Deseases with a touch:
A single Word doth from his Mouth proceed,
And opens Graves, and calls to Life the Dead.
Of rev'rend Aspect, comely in each Feature;
Well shap'd in Body, and he's tall in Stature.
Of Chasnut Colour is his matchless Hair,
Which falls in graceful Curles below the Ear;
From thence more orient doth his Shoulders meet,
His Head's partition'd like the Nazarite.
Smooth, large and beautifull is his Forehead:
No Spots his Cheeks hath, save a lovely Red.
His Mouth and Nose so form'd, and so agree,
There is 'mongst them a perfect Symetrie.
His beard is forked, thick and fully grown,
In Colour like his Hair a Chasnut Brown,
Extends in Length an Inch below his Chin.
His Eyes are quick and bright; serene he looks:
Counsels with Mildness; sharp in his Rebukes.
His whole Deportment Wisdom's Lessons teach;
In Action grave, and Eloquent in Speech.
His Countenance a deep Composure keeps:
Never is seen to Laugh, but often Weeps.
His modest Face sweet Innocence displays;
He's most Abstemious, Chast, and wond'rous Wise.
A matchless Beauty in the Man doth shine;
He's full of all Perfections divine:
For Wisdom, Sanctity, and comely Face,
He far surpasseth all the humane Race.

On Devout Dorinda,

Reading the Westminster Confession of Faith.

That Book I own is full of Grace and Wit,
But 'twas for Men, and not for Angels writ;
Why doth my Cherub humane Lectures read;
'Tis Angels Knowledge best expounds the Creed.
O thou'rt a Volume fraught with Grace and Sense,
L'Estrange did never so much Wit licence.
You are the kind Instructress of the Age,
Thy Lifes a Transcript of the sacred Page:
Then throw that useless Book upon the Shelf,
For thou art all Divinity thy self.

On a fair Lady,

Dispencing Medicines in her Lazar House.

O what a sight of wretched Folk is here,
And Stink enough for to pollute the Air:
There's Agnes, Jaundice, Cancer, and the Pox,
And ev'ry Plague flew from Pandora's Box.
She's like the Sun, who darts his radiant Beams
On Dunghills, yet not injur'd by their Steams:
She Miracles doth work like Aarons Rod,
(She is not taught by Gallen, but by God.)
Her Hand drys up the long infected Flood;
Sure there's Balsamick Virtue in her Blood:
See how she looks upon a yellow Face,
And prints a Beauty on the swarthy Place.
She stretches forth her healing Hand to save,
And with a touch she disappoints the Grave:
O strange! she bids the dying Lazar live;
She breathes on rotten Bones and they revive.
O cure my wounded Heart, Physician bright,
I see that Healing is thy native Right:
Your Power's too strong for any Maladie,
Shall ev'ry Patient here be cur'd save me;
You gave the Wound your self, O give the Remedie.

THE Fair MAID OF DUMBLAIN.

The Authors of Romances and Novels
Talk big of flut'ring Beaux and sparkling Belles;
Strephon the Lovers sprung from noble Blood,
And Cœlia is a rich and lovely Prude:
To great Folk Cupid only is a Guest;
Love dare not reign in a Plebeian Breast:
The Poor do like unthinking Atoms dance,
And marry, as the World was made, by Chance.
This Poets and Philosophers advance:
Wise as they are, they may be in the wrong,
Altho' the last was great Lucretius's Song.
The Gods, say they, have a superiour Care,
A thousand Sylphs sit on Belinda's Hair;
Protect bright Cloe when she plays at Omber:
And being aerial Spirits cannot Slumber.
These Ladys guard at Tea and Mattadores,
Because they're Rich and Great, tho sometimes W---
The Gods despise a Linsey Woolsey Gown;
But to the rusling Silks Respect is shown.
Yet under Favour, 'tis not my Opinion,
For little Cupid hath a large Dominion.
Great Wits may with their learned Logick fail,
And I with my blunt Eloquence prevail:
Then hear with Patience this my Covntry Tale.
In Days of Old, when Kenneth rul'd the Nation,
And Trews and naked Buttocks were in Fashion,
Maids did not Fence their Bums with Ribs of Whales
But just as Nature made them wore their T---ls.
The Scope of all love Tales and am'rous Charms
Is to have naked Meg claspt in our Arms.
There liv'd within an humble Highland Cottage
An honest Pair, but both of them in Dottage,
Donald, who never heard of foreign News,
Convers'd with Horse and Sheep and droves of Cows.
Jolly Marg'ry was his aged Spouse:
Twice twenty Years made up their wedlock State;
Their Means were competent, not very great;
A lovely Daughter bless'd their hoary Hairs,
The only Pledge of all their youthful Years.
For Stature, Manners and a lovely Face,
She was the very Proverb of the Place;
The Darling of her Family and Friends;
In blooming Youth just enter'd in her Teens.
The beauteous Maid, Corisca was her Name,
Thro' neighbouring Shires had spread a lasting Fame
From ev'ry Corner of the Country came
A Lover, to make known his am'rous Flame.
A learn'd Clerk, five Tradesmen, and a Swain
Call'd Colin, who dwelt in the neighbouring Plain,
Made up the Number of Corisca's Train.
The Scribe was famous for his ploding Nodle,
Told her dark Stories out of Aristotle,
Was very grave, but Colin took his Bottle.
The Tradesmen they were wealthy proud and vain;
But Colin was an honest humble Swain.
Tho' rich as Cræsus, and as wise as Solon,
Corisca would have none, save only Colin.
Small worldly Substance fell to Colin's Share;
But he was open, plain and debonair,
Of equal Temper, stedfast as the Rocks,
Chearful as May and harmless as his Flocks:
Good Face, good Shapes, good Nature, and good Sense
Are Qualities should make a Man a Prince.
Colin enjoy'd these in a high degree;
Corisca lov'd him well, and only he.
Her Parents Government was soft and mild,
They never spoke but when they spoke they smil'd,
And she knew all the Duties of a Child.
On Morning aged Donald and his Wife
Says Daughter, you're the Solace of our Life,
Our Age's prop, our Joys of Life are gone,
And yours, sweet Child, we hope are drawing one.
O bring us not with Sorrow to the Grave,
It's but a single Favour that we crave,
Wed ere we dy, but don't with Colin wed,
And when we've seen you in the nuptial Bed;
Our aged, crazy, tot'ring Bones, we trust,
Will soon thereafter sleep in peaceful Dust.
Mournful Corisca knew not what to do;
Loth to refuse, and loth to make the Vow;
She did the last as safest of the two.
Parents, she says, 'tis you that gave me Life,
Till you Consent, I ne'er shall be a Wife.
Hear me ye Heav'ns, I make this sacred Vow,
To Marry as my Parents shall allow.
But Maidens Vows are Wind, and nothing else:
And this the sequel of my Story tells.
Once as the Sun the western Skies stole down,
And in the East arose the silver Moon;
Now toyling Heifers, wounded with the Goad,
Are all released from the servile Load:
Now from the Moors the Hunters homeward ride
With umquhile Maukin dangling at their Side:
From distant Hamlet hungry School-Boy comes,
With runing Nose, and blowing o'er his Thumbs:
To neighb'ring Ale-House tipling Curate goes
With tatter'd Crape to take a deep Carouse:
From verdant Woods with sounding Horns the Swains
Bring home the milky Mothers of the Plains.
Corisca goes to Boughts to milk the Ews,
And spys her Colin whistl'ing o'er the Knows,
Driving his Charge down to the nightly Fold;
His yellow Hair was like the streaming Gold;
He grac'd his Trews his Crook and Tartan-Plade;
As fine as Kenneth was the Swain arrai'd.
The Lass was singing with a thoughtless Air,
For, saving Love, she had no wordly Care.
Corisca chuckled when the Lad she view'd;
A Joy went tingling thro' her Mass of Blood.
Once she had growing Thoughts to be his Wife;
A rapid Pleasure touch'd the Strings of Life.
Colin soon folded up his woolly Drove,
And runs to quench his eager Thirst of Love.
Kind Words he spoke, his weary'd Head did rest
Upon the peaceful Pillow of her Breast.
Around her Waste his loving Arm was spread;
There he solac'd upon the downy Bed.
Often did Colin his Corisca kiss,
The certain Pledges of a future Bless.
The loving Pair upon green Pastures lay;
And made the Ev'ning for to crown the Day.

A SONG To the Tune of Morning O Geberland.