As fweet and rich unite in coftly waves,
When purling gold the purpled web receives;
And fill the church he shadow'd hears the lays,
In daily fervice, as an aid to praise.
At these her temper good devotion warms,
And mounts aloft with more engaging charms :
Then, as she strives to reach the lofty fky,
Bids gratitude affift her will to fly;
In thefe our gratitude becomes on fire,
Then feels its flames improv'd by ftrong defire;
Then feels defire in cager wishes move,
And with determine in the point of love.
Such hymns to regulate, and such to raise,
Approach, ye founding instruments of praise :
'Tis fit you tune for him whose holy love,
In with afpiring to the choir above,
And fond to practise ere his time to go,
Devoutly call'd you to the choir below;
There, where he plac'd you, with your folemn
found,
For God's high glory, fill the sacred ground,
And there, and every-where, his wondrous name
Within his firmament of power proclaim.
Soft pleafing lutes with easy sweetness move,
To touch the fentiments of heavenly love;
Affift the lyre and voice, to tell the charms
That gently stole him from the father's arms;
Gay trembling timbrels, us'd with airs of mirth,
Affift the loud Hofannah rais'd on earth;
When on an afs he meekly rides along,
And multitudes are heard within the song.
Full-tenor'd pfaltery join the doleful part,
In which his agony poffeft his heart;
And feem to feel thyself, and seem to show,
A rifing heavinefs and figns of woe.
Sonorous organ, at his paffion moan,
And utter forth thy fympathizing groan,
In big low murmurs anxious forrow speak,
While melancholy winds thine entrails shake.
As when he fuffer'd, with complaining found,
The forms in vaulted caverns fhook the ground;
Swift cheerful cymbals give an airy ftrain,
When, having bravely broke the doubled chain
Of death and hell, he left the conquer'd grave,
And rofe to vifit those he dy'd to fave,
And as he mounts in fong, and angels fing,
With grand proceffion, their returning king,
Triumphant trumpets raise their notes on high,
And make them feem to mount, and feem to fly,
Then all at once confpire to praise the Lord,
In mufic's full confent, and juft accord:
Ye fons of art, in fuch melodious way,
Conclude the fervice which you join to pay,
While nations fing Amen, and yet again
Hold forth the note, and fing aloud Amen.
Here has my fancy gone where David leads,
Now foftly pacing o'er the graffy meads;
Now nobly mounting where the monarchs rear
The gilded fpires of palaces in air;
Now hooting thence, upon the level flight,
To dreadful dangers and the toils of fight,
Anon with utmoft ftretch afcending far,
Beyond the region of the farthest far;
As fharpeft-fighted eagles towering fly,
To weather their broad fails in open sky,
At length on wings half-clos'd flide gently down,
And one attempt fhall all my labours crown,
In others' verse the rest be better fhewn,
But this is more, or fhould be more, thine own.
If then the fpirit that fupports my lines
Have prov'd unequal to my large defigns,
Let others rife from earthly paffion's dream,
By me provok'd to vindicate the theme.
Let others round the world in rapture rove,
Or with ftrong feathers fan the breeze above,
Or walk the dufky fhades of death, and dive
Down heli's abyfs, and mount again alive.
But, Oh, my God! may thefe unartful rhymes
In fober words of woe bemoan my crimes.
'Tis fit the forrows I for ever vent
For what I never can enough repent;
'Tis fit, and David fhews the moving way,
And with his prayer inftructs my foul to pray.
Then, fince thy guilt is more than match'd by me,
And fince my troubles should with thine agree,
O Mufe, to glories in affliction born!
May thy humility my foul adorn.
For humbleft prayers are most affecting strains,
As mines lye rich in lowly planted veins;
Such aid I want, to render mercy kind,
And fuch an aid as here I want, I find :
Thy weeping accents in my numbers run,
Ah, thought! ah, voice of inward dole begun!
My God, whofe anger is appeas'd by tears,
Bow gently down thy mercy's gracious ears;
With many tongues my fins for justice call,
But mercy's ears are manifold for all.
Those sweet celeftial windows open wide,
And in full ftreams let foft compaffion glide;
There wash my foul, and cleanse it yet again,
O throughly cleanse it from the guilty stain;
For I my life with inward anguish fee,
And all its wretchedness confefs to thee.
The large indictment stands before my view,
Drawn forth by confcience, most amazing true;
And fill'd with fecrets hid from human eye,
When, foolish man, thy God stood witness by.
Then, oh, thou majefty divinely great,
Accept the fad confeffions I repeat,
Which clear thy justice to the world below,
Should difmal fentence doom my foul to woe.
When in the filent womb my fhape was made,
And from the womb to lightfome life convey'd,
Curs'd fin began to take unhappy root,
And through my veins its early fibres fhoot;
And then, what goodness didst thou fhew, to
kill
The rifing weeds, and principles of ill;
When to my breast, in fair celestial flame,
Eternal truth and lovely wifdom came,
Bright gift, by fimple nature never got,
But here reveal'd to change the ancient blot.
This wondrous help which mercy pleas'd to grant,
Continue ftill, for ftill thine aid I want;
And, as the men whom leprofies invade,
Or they that touch the carcafe of the dead,
With hyfop fprinkled, and by water clean'd,
Their former purenefs in the law regain'd;
So purge my foul, difeas'd, alas! within,
And much polluted with dead works of fin.
For fuch blefs'd favours at thine hand I fue,
Be grace thine hyfop, and thy water too.
Then fhall my whitenefs for perfection vie
With blanching fnows that newly leave the sky.
Thus, through my mind, thy voice of gladness
fend,
Thus fpeak the joyful word, I will be clean'd;
That all my ftrength, confum'd with mournful
pain,
May; by thy faving health, rejoice again :
And now no more my foul offences fee,
O turn from thefe, but turn thee not from me;
Or, left they make me too deform'd a fight,
Oh, blot them with oblivion's endless night.
Then further pureness to thy fervant grant,
Another heart, or change in this, I want.
Create another, or the change create,
For now my vile corruption is fo great,
It feems a new creation to restore
Its fall'n eftate to what it was before.
Renew my fpirit, raging in my breast,
And all its paffions in their courfe arrest;
Or turn their motions, widely gone astray,
And fix their footsteps in thy righteous way;
When this is granted, when again I'm whole,
Oh ne'er withdraw thy prefence from my foul;
There let it shine, fo let me be restor'd
To prefent joy, which confcious hopes afford.
There let it fweetly fhine, and o'er my breaft
Diffuse the dawning of eternal reft;
Then fhall the wicked this compaffion fee,
And learn thy worship, and thy works, from me.
For I, to fuch occafions of thy praise,
Will tune my lyre, and confecrate my lays.
Unfeal my lips, where guilt and shame have hung,
To ftop the paffage of my grateful tongue,
And let my prayer and fong afcend, my prayer
Here join'd with faints, my fong with angels there;
Yet neither prayer I'd give, nor fongs alone,
If either offerings were as much thy own:
But thine's the contrite fpirit, thine's an heart
Opprefs'd with forrow, broke with inward fmart;
That at thy footstool in confeffion fhews,
How well its faults, how well the judge it knows;
That in 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 fhall it ftand, in vows of virtue bound,
There falling tears fhall 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,
Instead of incenfe, to perfume the sky,
And thence my willing heart afpires above,
A victim panting in the flames of love.
She, gently treading all the walks around,
Admir'd the springing 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 finger 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 fuch fweet grace, as conquers all but thine.
Hence every writer o'er the fabled streams,
Where frolic fancies fport with idle dreams;
Or round the fight enchanted clouds difpofe,
Whence wanton Cupids fhoot with gilded bows,
A nobler writer, ftraius more brightly wrought,
Themes more exalted, fill my wondering thought:
The parted fkies are track'd with flames above,
As love defcends to meet afcending love;
The feafons flourish where the spouses 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 scene of all his actions there;
Where as he wrote, and from the bower furvey'd
The fcenting groves, or anfwering knots he made,
His facred art the fights of nature brings,
Beyond their use, to figure heavenly things.
Great Son of God! whofe gofpel pleas'd to throw
Round thy rich glory veils of earthly thow;
Who made the vineyard oft thy church defign,
Who made the marriage-feaft 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 in-
spire.
Look, or illufion's airy vifions draw,
Or now I walk the gardens which I faw,
Where filver waters feed a flowering spring,
And winds falute it with a balmy wing.
There, on a bank, whose shades directly rife,
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 fhines,
As through the Pfalms, from theme to theme And at her fide the meckest lamb reclines:
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;
And oft on heavenly lectures in the book,
And oft on heaven itself she casts 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 clofe communions breathe his holy love;
For these blefs'd words his pleafing lips impart,
Beyond all cordials, cheer the fainting heart.
As rich and sweet the precious ointments stream,
So rich thy graces flow, fo fweet thy name
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 refuse 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,
Whole 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 drefs 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 rest 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 a-
fide?
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 feamless vefture loofely fell below:
Sedate and pleas'd, he nodded; round his head
The pointed glory fhook, and thus he faid:
If thou, the loveliest 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 increafe, my fair delight,
I view their numbers, and compare the fight
To Pharaoh's horfes when they take the field,
Beat plains to dust, 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, cheers thy face:
Gay bridal robes a flowering filver ftrows,
Bright gold engrailing on the border glows.
He fpake; the spouse 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 feast,
There fits the king, while all around our heads
His grace, my fpikenard, pleafing odours sheds
About my foul, his holy comfort flies;
So clofely treafur'd in the bofom lies
The bundled myrrh, fo fweet the scented gale
Breathes all En-gedi's aromatic vale.
Now, fays the king, my love, I see thee fair,
Thine eyes, for mildness, with the dove's compare.
No, thou, belov'd, art fair, the church replies,
(Since all my beauties but from thee arise ;)
All fair, all pleafaut, these communions show
Thy counfels pleasant, and thy comforts fo.
And as at marriage feafts they ftrow the flowers,
With nuptial chaplets hang the summer bowers,
And make the rooms of fmelling cedars fine,
Where the ford bridegroom and the bride recline
I dress my foul with fuch exceeding care,
With fuch, with more, to court thy prefence there.
Well haft thou prais'd, he fays; the Sharon rofe
Through flowery fields a pleasing odour throws,
The valley lilies ravifh'd fenfe regale,
And with pure whitenefs paint their humble vale:
Such names of sweetness are thy lover's due,
And thou, my love, be thou a lily too,
A lily fet in thorns; for all I fee,
All other daughters, are as thorns to thee.
Then the; the trees that pleasing apples yield,
Surpass the barren trees that clothe the field;
So you furpass the sons with worth divine,
So fhade, and fruit as well as fhade, is thine,
I fat me down, and faw thy branches spread,
And green protection flourish o'er my head;
I faw thy fruit, the foul's celeftial food,
I pull'd, I tafted, and I found it good.
Hence in the fpirit to the blissful feats,
Where love, to feaft, myfteriously retreats,
He led me forth; I faw the banner rear,
And love was pencil'd for the motto there.
Prophets and teachers in your care combine,
Stay me with apples, comfort me with wine,
The cordial promises of joys above,
For hope deferr'd has made me fick with love.
Ah while my tongue reveals my fond defire,
His hands fupport me, left my life expire;
As round a child the parent's arms are plac'd,
This holds the head, and that enfolds the waift.
Here ceas'd the church, and lean'd her languið
Bent down with joy; when thus the lover faid:
Behold, ye daughters of the realm of peace,
She fleeps, at least her thoughts of forrow cease.
Now, by the bounding toes, the skipping fawns,
Near the cool brooks, or o'er the graffy lawns,
By all the tender innocents that rove,
Your hourly charges, in my facred grove,
Guard the dear charge from each approach of ill
I would not have her wake but when the will.
So reft the church and fpoufe: my verles fo
Appcar to languish with the flames you fhew,
And paufing reft; but not the pause be long,
For ftill thy Solomon purfues the fong.
Then keep the place in view; let sweets more rare
Than earth produces fill the purpled air;
Let fomething folemn overspread the green,
Which feems to tell us, Here the Lord has been!
But let the virgin still in prospect shine,
And other ftrains of her's enliven mine.
She wakes, the rifes: bid the whispering breeze
More foftly whisper in the waving trees,
Or fall with filent awe; bid all around,
Before the church's voice, abate their found;
While thus her fhadowy ftrains attempt to fhew
A future advent of the spouse below;
Hark! my beloved's voice! behold him too!
Behold him coming in the distant view :
No clambering mountains make my lover stay,
(For what are mountains in a lover's way?)
Leaping he comes, how like the nimble roe
He runs the pathé his prophets us'd to fhow!
And now he looks from yon partition-wall,
Built till he comes-'tis only then to fall,
And now he's nearer in the promise seen,
Too faint the fight-'tis with a glass between':
From hence I hear him as a lover speak,
Who near a window calls a fair to wake.
Attend, ye virgins, while the words that tracé
An opening fpring defign the day of grace.
Hark or I dream, or elfe I hear him fay,
Arife, my love; my fair-one, come away;
For now the tempefts of thy winter end,
Thick rains no more in heavy drops descend;
Sweet painted flowers their filken leaves unclofe,
And drefs the face of earth with varied fhows;
In the green wood the finging birds renew
Their chirping notes, the filver turtle coo:
The trees that yield the fig already shoot,
And knit their bloffoms for their early fruit;
With fragrant fcents the vines refresh the day,
Arife, my love; my fair one, come away.
O come, my dove, forfake thy close retreat,
For clofe in fafety hast thou fix'd thy seat,
As fearful pigeons in dark clefts abide,
And fafe the clefts their tender charges hide.
Now let thy looks with modeft guife appear,
Now let thy voice falute my longing ear,
For in thy looks a humble mind I fee,
Prayer forms thy voice, and both are fweet to me.
To fave the bloomings of my vineyard, haste,
Which foxes (false deluding teachers) waste;
Watch well their haunts, and catch the foxes
there,
Our grapes are tender, and demand thy care.
Thus fpeaks my love: furprifing love divine!
I thus am his, he thus for ever mine.
And, till he comes, I find thy prefence ftill,
Where fouls attentive serve his holy will;
Where down in vales unfpotted lilies grow,
White types of innocence, in humble show.
Oh, till the spicy breath of heavenly day,
Till all thy fhadows fleet before the ray;
Turn, my beloved, with thy comforts here,
Turn in thy promise, in thy grace appear,
Nor let fuch fwiftnefs in the roes be shown
To fave themselves, as thou to cheer thine own;
Turn like the nimble harts that lightly bound,
Before the ftretches of the fleetest hound;
Skim the plain chace of lofty Bether's head,
And make the mountain wonder if they tread.
But long expectance of a bliss delay'd Breeds anxious doubt, and tempts the facred maid; Then mifts arifing ftrait repel the light, The colour'd garden lies difguis'd in night; A pale-horn'd crefcent leads a glimmering throng, And groans of abfence jar within the fong.
By night, the cries, a night which blots the
mind,
I feek the lover, whom I fail to find:
When on my couch compos'd to thought I lie,
I fearch, and vainly fearch, with reason's eye;
Rife, fondly rife, thy prefent fearch give o'er,
And ask if others knew thy lover more.
Dark as it is, I rife; the moon that shines
Shows by the gleam the city's outward lines:
I range the wandering road, the winding street,
And afk, but afk in vain, of all I meet,
Till, toil'd with every disappointing place,
My fteps the guardians of the temple trace,
Whom thus my with accofts: Ye facred guides,
Ye prophets, tell me where my love refides?
'Twas well I queftion'd; fcarce I pafs'd them by,
Ere my rais'd foul perceives my lover nigh;
And have I found thee, found my joy divine?
How faft I'll hold thee, till I make thee mine!
My mother waits thee, thither thou repair,
Long-waiting Ifrael wants thy prefence there.
The lover fmiles to fee the virgin's pain;
The mists roll off, and quit the flowery plain.
Yes, there I come, he fays, thy forrow cease?'
And guard her, daughters of the realms of peace,
By all the bounding roes and fkipping fawns,
Near the cool brooks, or o'er the graffy lawns;'
By all the tender innocents that rove,
Your hourly charges, in my facred grove:
Guard the dear charge from each approach of ill,
I'll have her feel my comforts while the will.
Here, hand in hand, with cheerful heart they go, When wandering Salem fees the folemn fhow, Dreams the rich pomp of Solomon again, And thus her daughters fing th' approaching fcere
Who from the defert, where the waving clouds High Sinai pierces, comes involv'd with crowds? For Sion's hill her fober pace fhe bends, As grateful incense from the dome afcends. It seems the fweets, from all Arabia shed, Curl at her fide, and hover o'er her head. For her the king prepares a bed of state, Round the rich bed her guards in order wait, All myftic Hrael's fons, 'tis there they quell The foes within, the foes without repel. The guard his ministry, their fwords of fight, His facred laws, her prefent ftaté of night. He forms a chariot too, to bring her there, Not the carv'd frame of Solomon fo fair; Sweet fmells the chariot as the temple flood, The fragrant cedar lent them both the wood; High wreaths of filver'd columns prop the door, Fine gold engrail'd adorns the figur'd floor, Deep fringing purple hangs the roof above, And filk embroidery paints the midst with love. Go forth, ye daughters; Sion's daughters, go; A greater Solomon exalts the fhow,
If crown'd with gold, and by the queen bestow'd, To grace his nuptials, Jacob's monarch rodes
A crown of glory from the King Divine,
To grace thefe nuptials, makes the Saviour fhine; While the blefs'd pair exprefs'd in emblem ride, Meffiah Solomon, his church the bride.
Ye kind attendants, who, with wondering eyes, Saw the grand entry, what you faid fuffice; You fung the lover with a loud acclaim, The lover's fondnefs longs to fing the dame. He fpeaks, admiring nature ftands around, And learns new mufic, while it hears the found. Behold, my love, how fair thy beauties fhow, Behold how more, how most extremely fo! How ftill to me thy conftant eyes incline, I fee the turtle's when I gaze on thine; Sweet through the lids they shine with modeft care, And fweet and modeft is a virgin's air.
How bright thy locks! how well their number paints
The great affemblies of my lovely faints!
So bright the kids, fo numeroully fed,
Graze the green top of lofty Gilead's head;
All Gilead's head a fleecy whiteness clouds,
And the rich mafter glories in the crowds.
How pure thy teeth for equal order made,
Each answering each, whilst all the public aid;
Thefe lovely graces in my church I find,
This candor, order, and accorded mind:
Thus when the feafon bids the fhepherd lave
His fheep, new fhorn, within the crystal wave;
Wash'd they return, in fuch unfully'd white,
Thus march by pairs, and in the flock unite.
How please thy lips adorn'd with native red!
Art vainly mocks them in the fearlet thread!
But, if they part, what mufic wafts the air!
So fweet thy praifes, and fo foft thy prayer.
If through thy loofen'd curls, with honest shame,
Thy lovely temples fine complexion flame,
Whatever crimson granate bloffoms fhow,
'Twas never theirs fo much to please and glow.
But what's thy neck, the polish'd form I fee,
Whofe ivory ftrength fupports thine eyes to me!
Fair type of firmness, when my faints afpire
The facred confidence that lifts defire,
As David's turret, on the stately frame,
Upheld its thousand conquering fhields of fame.
And what thy breafts! they fill demand my lays,
What image wakes to charm me whilft I gaze!
Two lovely mountains each exactly round,
Two lovely mountains with the lily crown'd;
While two twin roes, and each on either bred,
Feed in the lilies of the mountain's head.
Let this resemblance fpotlefs virtues fhow,
And in fuch lilies feed my young below.
But now, farewell, till night's dark fhades decay,
Farewell, my virgin, till the break of day;
Swift for the hills of fpice and gums I fly,
To breathe fuch fweets as fcent a purer sky;
Yet, as I leave thee, ftill, above compare,
My love, my fpotlefs, ftill I find thee fair.
Here reft, celeftial maid; for if he go, Nor will he part, nor is the promise flow, Nor flow my fancy move; difpel the shade, Charm forth the morning, and relieve the maid. Arife, fair fun, the church attends to fee The fun of righteoufaess arife in thee;
Arife, fair fun; and bid the church adore;
'Tis then he'll court her, whom he prais'd before.
As thus I fing, it fhines; there feems a found
Of plumes in air, and feet upon the ground:
I fee their meeting, fee the flowery scene,
And hear the myftic love pursued again.
Now to the mount, whofe fpice perfumes the day.
'Tis I invite thee; come, my spouse, away;
Come, leave thy Lebanon: is aught we fee
In all thy Lebanon, compar'd to me?
Nor tow'rd thy Canaan turn with wishful fight,
From Hermon's, Sheniar's, and Amana's height;
There dwells the leopard, there affaults the bear;
This world has ills, and fuch may find thee there.
My spoufe, my fifter, O thy wondrous art,
Which through my bofom drew my ravish'd heart!
Won by one eye, my ravifh'd heart is gone,
For all thy feeing guides confent as one.
Drawn by one chain, which round thy body plics,
For all thy members one biefs'd union ties.
My spouse, my fifter, O the charm to please,
When love repaid returns my bosom ease!
Strongly thy love, and ftrongly wines reftore,
But wines muft yield, thy love enflames me
Sweetly thine ointments (all thy virtues) fmell,
Not altar-fpices please thy king fo well.
How foft thy doctrine on thy lips refides!
From thofe two combs the drooping honey glides;
All pure without, as all within fincere,
Beneath thy tongue-I find it honey there.
Ah, while thy graces thus around thee fhine,
The charms of Lebanon muft yield to thine!
His fpring, his garden, every scented tree,
My fpoule, my fifter, all I find in thee.
Thee, for myfelf, I fence, I fhut, I seal;
Mysterious fpring, myfterious garden, hai!!
A fpring, a font, where heavenly waters flow.
A grove, a garden, where the graces grow.
There rife my fruits, my cyprefs, and my fir,
My faffron, fpikenard, cinnamon, and myrrh;
Perpetual fountains for their use abound,
And ftreams of favour feed the living ground.
Scarce fpake the Chrift, when thus the Church
replies
(And spread her arms where'er the spirit flies);
Ye cooling northern gales, who freshly shake
My balmy reeds; ye northern gales, awake.
And thou the regent of the fouthern sky,
O foft infpiring, o'er my garden fly;
Unlock and waft my fweets, that every grace,
In all its heavenly life, regale the place.
If thus a paradife thy garden prove,
'Twere beft prepar'd to entertain my love;
And, that the pleafing fruits may please the more,
O think my proffer was thy gift before.
At this, the Saviour cries, behold me near,
My fpoufe, my fifter; O behold me here;
To gather fruits, I come at thy request,
And, pleas'd, my foul accepts the folemn feast;
1 gather myrth, with fpice to fcent the treat,
My virgin-honey with the combs I eat;
I drink my fweetening milk, my lively wine (Thefe words of pleature mean thy gifts di
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