Imágenes de páginas

They hold a comely paritie,

Nor orderlefs moleft,

As proud o'ertopping teeth would be
Like prelates o'er the rest.

Thine active zeal, yet mild, doth keep

A juft equality;

Like ev'nly rounded flocks of fheep,
New paft the fhearer's eye.
Thy purity exceeds their fleece
Wash'd in the crystal flood;
Thy fruits of holiness and peace
Outvie their num'rous brood.
There does not in the flock appear
One fruitless barren womb:
But all by twins their product bear,
And lead them bleeting home.

Verfe 3. Thy lips are like a breed of fearlet, and thy Speech is comely: thy temples are like a piece of a pomgrenate within thy locks.

I view'd thy beauteous moving lips,
Inftructing Salem's race,

And dropping pureft nectar † fips,
In fav'ry words of grace.

Thence facred pray'rs and praife proceed,
So grateful unto God;

Thy lips are like a fcarlet threed

Dy'd with atoning blood.

Thefe balmy lips, with pleafing voice,

Shrill in devotion's path,
Salute mine ears with fecret joys:
And spread a fragrant breath.
Thy fpeech, in praife, to my renown;
And pray'r for blifs from me;
In focial words, to make me known;
Shews grace with gravity.

A pleafant liquor; delightful in tafte, colour, and fmell; antiently feigned to be drunk by the gods, and that whofoever drank of it should become immortal.

† A a

Hence granate-like, thy temples fair,
Vail'd in thy locks appear;

While ruddy blufhes deck thy pray'r,
When none but God can hear.
From men thou hid'ft thy rofy cheeks,
Which fhame for fin doth flufh;
Yet, fpite of masks, thy mein detects
Thy beauteous holy blufh.

Verle 4. Thy neck is like the tower of David, builded for an armoury, whereon there bang a thousand bucklers, all fields of mighty men.

Befides thy coral lips and cheeks,

Thy tow'ring iv'ry neck,

Fram'd like a heav'nly ftructure, fpeaks
Wifdom its architect.

This neck of precious faith excells.
King David's flately tow'r;

It holds the glorious Head, and dwells
Upon the rock of pow'r.

As that was for an arm'ry built
Of warlike weapons bright,
Where hung a thoufand bucklers gilt,
All fhields of men of might.

So this moft vig'rous faith of thine
More conqueft by my names,
My words, and attributes divine,
Than many fhields acclaims.
Defenfive arms, in ev'ry cafe,
Within this tow'r abound;
With weapons of victorious grace,
And bulwarks built around.

Thy neck of faith affimulates
An arm'ry built upright.

It ftands renown'd for valiant feats,
And boldeft acts of might.

Faith joining her almighty King,
Safe, fpite of fears, can dwell;
And viewing death, without a fting,
Defy the gates of hell.

Verse 5. Thy two breafts are like two young roes that are twins, which feed among the lilies *.

Thy breafts of love refemble roes
Both young delightful twins:
In thee fuch equal ardour glows,
For God, and 'gainst thy fins.
Thou op'neft frank a twofold breast,
Two teft'ments, and two feals;
Which to thy children yield a feaft
Of milk for daily meals.
Thine equal breafts delightful feed,
With milk of fweet folace
In just proportion to the need
Of all the babes of grace.
Among my flocks, the lilie-fields,

Where I with pleasure feast,
Thy wholesome converfation yields
Sweet food with open breast.

Verse 6. Until the day break †, and the shadows flee away, I will get me to the mountains of myrrb, and to the bill of frankincenfe.

I heard thy former warm requeft,
To hafte the fhades away;
Or, during night, abide thy guest
Until the break of day.

Thy pray'r ftill in mind I bear,
To which no longer mute;
As then I bent my lift'ning ears,
So now I grant thy fuit.

In Zion mount my feet shall flay,
And there I'll lodge with thee,
Until the dawn of glory's day
That fhades of forrow flee.

There will I fmell the favour sweet

Of active grace and prayer; For Zion is my chofen feat,

I'll reft for ever there.

[blocks in formation]

Accepted off'ring all mature

My holy hill furround,

Perfum'd with myrrh and incense pure,
That spread their odours round.
No fpice fo much delights the smell
As incenfe fmoking there:

Still, therefore, fhall my Spirit dwell
Within the house of pray'r.
The mount of incenfe, hill of myrrh,
My grace thall ftill adorn:
Nor thence will I decamp or ftir,
Till glory's nuptial morn;
Till to my royal courts above
My trumpét call thee up
To confummate our endless love,
And drink full pleafure's cup.

Verle 7. Thou art all fair, my love; there is no Spos

in thee.

My love, thou feem'ft a loathfome worm:

Yet fuch thy beauties be,

I fpoke but half thy comely form;

Thour't wholly fair in me.
Whole juftify'd, in perfect dress;
Nor juftice, nor the law
Can in thy robe of righteousness
Difcern the smallest flaw.
Yea, fanctify'd in ev'ry part,
Thou'rt perfect in defign:
And I judge thee by what thou art
In thy intent and mine.

Fair love, by grace complete in me,

Beyond all beauteous brides; Each spot that ever fullied thee

My purple vefture hides.

Verfe 8. Come with me from Lebanon, my fpoufe ; with me from Lebanon: look from the top of Amana, from the top of Shenir and Hermon, from the lions dens, from the mountains of the leopards.

*The words here may be read by way of promile, Thou sbalt come

with me.


Fair confort, did I thee betroth;
And get thy heart and hand?
I urge thee by the marriage-oath
Regard my kind command.

Come, come with me from Lebanon,
This mount of vanity:

Faith's object, things unfeen, unknown,
More fuit thy high degree.

Come from this world's bewitching heights;
O new-born foul forget

The pompous fopp'ries, gay delights,
Toys of thy native state.

Are mortal pleafures worth thy ftay,
Or dying fhades and toys,
When I invite thy heart away
To fhare immortal joys?

By faith look from Amana's top,
From Shenir, Hermon fair;
Thence over Jordan look with hope,
Where Zion's glories are.

Let me alone poffefs thy heart,
Leave ev'ry lion's den;

From thefe wild leopard-hills depart,
The place of furious men.
All worldly joys are overweigh'd
With hills of vexing care,
And under gaudy pleafures hide
Some ghaflly dang'rous fnare.
Let blinded moles, in earthen hills,
Their mould'ring ftore purfue,
And lick the duft that never fills;

Bid thou mole-hills, adieu.

I'll thee to higher blifs exalt,

For ever with the Lord:

Come, come thou muft; and come thou fhalt,

My love's thy drawing cord.

Verfe 9. Thou hafs * ravished my heart, my fifter, my Spouse; thou haft ravished my heart with one of thine eyes, with one chain of thy neck.

* Or, taken away my beart.

« AnteriorContinuar »