That fin with fober refolution flies,
This gift thy mercy never will defpife.
Then in my foul a mystic altar rear,
And fuch a facrifice I'll offer there.
There shall it stand, in vows of virtue bound,
There falling tears shall wash it all around;
And fharp remorfe, yet fharper edg'd by woe,
Deferv'd and fear'd, inflict the bleeding blow;
There fhall my thoughts to holy breathings fly,
Inftead of incenfe, to perfume the sky,
And thence my willing heart afpires above,
A victim panting in the flames of love.

SOL O M O N.

AS through the Pfalms, from theme to theme, I chang'd,

Methinks like Eve in Paradife I rang'd;
And every grace of fong I feem'd to fee,
As the gay pride of every feafon fhe;
She, gently treading all the walks around,
Admir'd the fpringing beauties of the ground,
The lily, gliftering with the morning dew,
The rofe in red, the violet in blue,

The pink in pale, the bells in purple rows,
And tulips colour'd in a thousand shows :
Then here and there perhaps the pull'd a flower,
To ftrew with mofs, and paint her leafy bower;
And here and there, like her, I went along,
Chofe a bright strain, and bid it deck my fong.

But now the facred Singer leaves mine eye,
Crown'd as he was, I think he mounts on high;
Ere this devotion bore his heavenly Pfalms,
And now himself bears up his harp and palms.
Go, faint triumphant, leave the changing fight,
So fitted out, you fuit the realms of light;
But let thy glorious robe at parting go,
Thofe realms have robes of more effulgent fhow;
It flies, it falls, the fluttering filk I fee;
Thy fon has caught it, and he fings like thee,
With fuch election of a theme divine,

And such sweet grace, as conquers all but thine.
Hence every writer o'er the fabled streams,
Where frolic fancies sport with idle dreams;
Or round the fight enchanted clouds difpofe,
Whence wanton Cupids shoot with gilded bows,
A nobler writer, ftrains more brightly wrought,
Themes more exalted, fill my wondering thought:
The parted skies are track'd with flames above,
As love defcends to meet afcending love;
The feafons flourish where the fpoufes meet,
And earth in gardens fpreads beneath their feet;
This fresh-bloom profpect in the bofom throngs,
When Solomon begins his fong of fongs,
Bids the wrapt foul to Lebanon repair,
And lays the fcene of all his actions there;
Where as he wrote, and from the bower furvey'd
The scenting groves, or anfwering knots he made,
His facred art the fights of nature brings,

Beyond their use, to figure heavenly things.

Great

Great Son of God! whofe gospel pleas'd to throw Round thy rich glory veils of earthly show;

Who made the vineyard oft thy church defign,
Who made the marriage-feast a type of thine;
Affift my verfes, which attempt to trace
The shadow'd beauties of celeftial grace,
And with illapfes of feraphic fire

The work which pleas'd thee once, once more inspire.
Look, or Illufion's airy vifions draw,

Or now I walk the gardens which I saw,
Where filver waters feed a flowering spring,
And winds falute it with a balmy wing.
There, on a bank, whofe fhades directly rise,
To fcreen the fun, and not exclude the skies,
There fits the facred church; methinks I view
The spouse's afpect, and her enfigns too.
Her face has features where the Virtues reign,
Her hands the book of facred Love contain,
A light (Truth's emblem) on her bofom shines,
And at her fide the meekeft lamb reclines:
And oft on heavenly lectures in the book,
And oft on heaven itfelf the cafts a look,
Sweet, humble, fervent zeal, that works within,
At length burfts forth, and raptures thus begin:
Let Him, that Him my foul adores above,
In close communions breathe his holy love;
For thefe blefs'd words his pleafing lips impart,
Beyond all cordials, chear the fainting heart.
As rich and fweet the precious ointments stream
So rich thy graces flow, fo fweet thy name

Diffuses

Diffufes facred joy; 'tis hence we find
Affection rais'd in every virgin mind;
For this we come, the daughters here, and I,
Still draw we forward, and behold I fly;
I fly through mercy, when my king invites,
To tread his chambers of fincere delights;
There, join'd by myftic union, I rejoice,
Exalt my temper, and enlarge my voice,
And celebrate thy joys, fupremely more
Than earthly blifs; thus upright hearts adore.
Nor you, ye maids, who breathe of Salem's air,
Nor you refufe that I conduct you there;
Though clouding darkness hath eclips'd my face,
Dark as I am, I fhine with beams of grace,
As the black tents, where Ishmael's line abides,
With glittering trophies drefs their inward fides;
Or as thy curtains, Solomon, are seen,
Whofe plaits conceal a golden throne within.
'Twere wrong to judge me by the carnal fight,
And yet my vifage was by nature white;
But fiery funs, which perfecute the meek,
Found me abroad, and scorch'd my rofy cheek.
The world, my brethren, they were angry grown,
They made me dress a vineyard not my own,
Among their rites (their vines) I learn'd to dwell,
And in the mean employ my beauty fell;
By frailty loft, I gave my labour o'er,
And my own vineyard grew deform'd the more.
Behold I turn, O fay, my foul's defire,

Where doft thou feed thy flock, and where retire

To

To reft that flock, when noon-tide heats arise? Shepherd of Ifrael, teach my dubious eyes To guide me right; for why should thine abide Where wandering fhepherds turn their flocks afide ? So fpake the church, and figh'd: a purple light Sprung forth, the Godhead stood reveal'd to fight, And heaven and nature fmil'd; as white as fnow His seamless vefture loosely fell below : Sedate and pleas'd, he nodded; round his head The pointed glory fhook, and thus he said: If thou, the lovelieft of the beauteous kind, If thou canst want thy fhepherd's walk to find, Go by the foot-steps where my flocks have trod, My faints, obedient to the laws of God; Go, where their tents my teaching fervants rear, And feed the kids, thy young believers there. Should thus my flocks increase, my fair delight, I view their numbers, and compare the fight To Pharaoh's horfes when they take the field, Beat plains to duft, and make the nations yield. With rows of gems thy comely cheeks I deck, And chains of pendant gold o'erflow thy neck, For fo like gems the riches of my grace, And fo defcending glory, chears thy face: Gay bridal robes a flowering filver ftrows, Bright gold engrailing on the border glows. He fpake; the fpoufe admiring heard the found, Then, meekly bending on the facred ground, She cries, Oh prefent to my ravish'd breast, This fweet communion is an inward feat,