Such grief, such sorrows, in amazing view,
Distracted fears and heaviness pursue."
Ye Sages, deeply read in human frame,
The passions' causes, and their wild extreme;
Where mov'd an object more oppos'd to bliss,
What other agony could equal his?
The music still proceeds with mournful airs,
And speaks the dangers, as it speaks the fears.
"Oh, sacred presence, from the son withdrawn:
Oh, God, my father, whither art thou gone?
Oh, must my soul bewail tormenting pan,
And all my words of anguish fall in vain?
The trouble's near, in which my life will end;
But none is near, that will assistance lend;
Like Bashan's bulls, my foes against me throng,
So proud, inhuman, numberless, and strong.
Like desert lions, on their prey they go,
So much their fierce desire of blood they show:
As ploughers wound the ground, they tore my back,
And long deep furrows manifest the track.
They pierc'd my tender hands, my tender feet,
And caus'd sharp pangs, where nerves in num-
bers meet;
Rich streams of life forsake my rended reins,
And fall like water spill'd upon the plains;
My bones, that us'd in hollow seats to close,
Disjoint with anguish of convulsive throws;
My mourning heart is melted in my frame,
As wax dissolving runs before a flame;
My strength dries up, my flesh the moisture leaves,
And on my tongue my clammy palate cleaves:
Alas! I thirst; alas! for drink I call;
For drink they give me vinegar and gall.
To sportful game the savage soldiers go,
And for my vesture, on my vesture throw;
While all deride, who see me thus forlorn,
And shoot their lips, and shake their heads in scorn.
And, with despiteful jest, Behold,' they cry,
The great peculiar darling of the sky;
He trusted God would save his soul from woe,
Now God may have him, if he loves him so.'
But to the dust of death, by quick decay,
I come; O Father, be not long away."
And was it thus, the prince of life was slain?
And was it thus he dy'd for worthless men?
Yes, blessed Jesus! thus, in every line,
The sufferings which the prophet spake were thine.
Come, Christian, to the corpse, in spirit come,
And with true sins of grief surround the tomb.
Upon the threshold-stone let Sin be slain,
Such sacrifice will best avenge his pain.
Bring thither then repentance, sighs, and tears,
Bring mortify'd desires, bring holy fears;
And earnest prayer express'd from thoughts that
roll
Through broken mind, and groanings of the soul;
These scatter on his hearse, and so prepare
Those obsequies the Jews deny'd him there;
While in your hearts the flames of love may burn,
To dress the vault, like lamps in sacred urn.
There oft, my soul, in such a grateful way,
Thine humblest homage, with the godly pay.
But David strikes the sounding chords anew,
And to thy first design recals thy view;
From life to death, from death to life he flies,
And still pursues his object in his eyes;
And here recounts, in more enliven❜d song,
The sacred presence, not absented long:
The flesh not suffer'd in the grave to dwell,
The soul not suffer'd to remain in Hell;
But as the conqueror, fatigu'd in war,
With hot pursuit of enemies afar,
Reclines to drink the torrent gliding by,
Then lifts his looks to repossess the sky;
So bow'd the Son, in life's uneasy road,
With anxious toil and thorny danger strow'd;
So bow'd the Son, but not to find relief,
But taste the deep imbitter'd floods of grief;
So when he tasted these, he rais'd his head,
And left the sable mansions of the dead,
Ere mouldering time consum'd the bones away,
Or slow corruption's worms had work'd decay:
Here faith's foundations all the soul employ
With springing graces, springing beams of joy;
Then paus'd the voice, where Nature's seen to pause,
And for a time suspend her ancient laws.
From hence arising as the glories rise,
That must advance above the lofty skies,
He runs with sprightly fingers o'er the lyre,
And fils new songs with new celestial fire:
In which he shows, by fair description's ray,
The Christ's ascension to the realms of day;
When Justice, pleas'd with life already paid,
Unbends her brows, and sheaths her angry blade;
And meditates rewards, and will restore
What Mercy woo'd him, to forsake before.
When on a cloud, with gilded edge of light,
He rose above the reach of human sight,
And met the pomp that hung aloft in air,
To make his honours more exceeding fair;
"See," cries the prophet, "how the chariots wait
To bear him upwards in triumphant state,
By twenty thousands in unnumber'd throug,
And angels draw the glittering ranks along.
The Lord amongst them sits in glory dress'd,
Nor more the presence, Sinai Mount confest."
And now the chariots have begun to fly,
The triumph moves, the Lord ascends on high,
And Sin and Satan, us'd to captive men,
Are dragg'd for captives in his ample train;
While, as he goes, seraphic circles sing
The wondrous conquest of their wondrous king;
With shouts of joy their heavenly voices raise,
And with shrill trumpets manifest his praise;
From such a point of such exceeding height,
A while my verses stoop their airy flight,
And seem for rest on Olivet to breathe,
And charge the two that stand in white beneath;
That as they move, and join the moving rear
Within their honour'd hands, aloft they bear
The crown of thorns, the cross on which he dy'd,
The nails that pierc'd his limbs, the spear his side;
Then, where kind Mercy lays the thunder by,
Where Peace has hung great Michael's arms on
Let these adorn his magazine above,
And hang the trophies of victorious love;
Lest man, by superstitious mind entic'd,
Should idolize whatever touch'd the Christ.
But still the prophet in the spirit soars
To new Jerusalem's imperial! doors;
There sees and hears the bless'd angelic throng,"
There feels their music, and records their song:
Or, with the vision warm'd, attempts to write,
For those inhabitants of native light,
And teaches harmony's distinguish'd parts,
In sweet respondence of united hearts;
For thus without might warbling angels sing,
Their course containing on the flutter'd wing,
Eternal gates! your stately portals rear,
Eternal gates! your ways of joy prepare;
The King of Glory for admittance stays;
He comes, he'll enter, O prepare your ways;
Then bright arch-angels, that attend the wall,
Might thus upon the beauteous order call:
Ye fellow-ministers, that now proclaim
Your King of Glory, tell his awful name.
At which the beauteous order will accord,
And sound of solenin notes pronounce the Lord:
The Lord endued with strength, renowu'd for
might,
With spoils returning from the finish'd fight.
Again with lays they charm the sacred gates,
And graces double, while the song repeats;
Again within the sacred guardians sing,
And ask the name of their victorious king;
And then again, the Lord's the name rebounds
From tongue to tongue, catch'd up in frequent
rounds.
New thrones and powers appear to lift the gate,
And David still pursues their enter'd state.
Oh, prophet! father! whither would'st thou fly ?
Oh, mystic Israel's chariot for the sky;
Thou sacred spirit! what a wondrous height,
By thee supported, soars his airy flight!
For glimpse of Majesty divine is brought,
Among the shifted prospects of the thought:
Dread, sacred sight! I dare not gaze for fear,
But sit beneath the singer's feet, and hear;
And hold each sound that interrupts the mind,
Thus in a calm by power of verse confin'd.
Ye dreadful ministers of God, displeas'd,
In blasting tempests be no longer rais'd! [groan,
Ye deep-month'd thunders, leave your direful
Nor roll in hollow clouds around the throne.
The still small voice more justly will express
How great Jehovah did the Lord address.
And you bright-feather'd choirs of endless peace,
A while from tuneful hallelujahs cease;
A while stand fix'd, with deep attentive care,
You'll have the time to sing for ever there.
The royal prophet will the silence break,
And in his words Almighty goodness speak.
He spake (and smil'd to see the business done),
"Thou art my first, my great begotten Sou;
Here on the right of Majesty sit down,
Enjoy thy conquest, and receive thy crown,
While I thy worship and renown complete,
And make thy foes the foot-stool of thy feet;
For I'll pronounce the long-resolv'd decree,
My sacred Sion be reserv'd for thee.
From thence thy peaceful rod of power extend,
From thence thy Messenger of Mercy send,
And teach thy vanquish'd enemies to bow,
And rule where Hell has fix'd an empire now.
Then ready nations to their rightful king
The free-will offerings of their hearts shall bring,
In holy beauties for acceptance dress'd,
And ready nations be with pardon bless'd;
Meanwhile thy dawn of truth begins the day,
Enlighten'd subjects shall increase the sway;
With such a splendid and unnumber'd train,
As dews in morning till the grassy plain.
This by myself I swore; the great intent
Has past my sanction, and I can't repent:
Thou art a king, and priest of peace below,
Like Salem's monarch, and for ever so.
Ask what thou wilt, 'tis thine the Gentiles' claim;
For thy possession take the world's extreme.
The kings shall rage, the parties strive in vain,
By persecuting rage, to break thy reign;
Thou art my Christ, and they that still can be
Rebellious subjects be destroy'd by thee.
Bring, like the potter, to severe decay,
Thy worthless creatures, found in humble clay;
Then hear, ye monarchs, and ye judges hear,
Rejoice with trembling, serve the Lord with fear;
In his commands with signs of homage move,
And kiss the gracious offers of his love:
Ye surely perish if his anger flame,
And only they be bless'd that bless his name."
Thus does the Christ in David's anthems shine,
With full magnificence of art divine;
Then on his subjects gifts of grace bestow,
And spread his image on their hearts below;
As when our earthly kings receive the globe,
The sacred unction, and the purple robe,
And mount the throne with golden glory crown'd,
They scatter medals of themselves around;
There heavenly singers clap their vary'd wings,
And lead the choir of all created things.
Relate his glory's everlasting prime,
His fame continued with the length of time;
While, ere the Sun shail dart a gilded beam,
Or changing Moons diffuse the silver'd gleam;
Where-c'er the waves of rolling occan sent,
Encompass land with arms of wide extent.
Hail, full of mercy: ready nations cry!
Hail, oh, for ever, ever bless'd on high!
Hail, oh, for ever on thy beauteous throne!
Thou Lord that workest wondrous things alone!
Still let thy glory to the world appear,
And all the riches of thy goodness hear.
But thou, fair church, in whom he fixes love,
Thou queen accepted of the Prince above;
Behold him fairer than the sons of men;
Embrace his offer'd heart, and share his reign;
In Moses' laws they bred thy tender years;
But now to new commands incline thine ears,
Forget thy people, bear no more in mind
Thy father's houshold, for thy spouse is kind.
Within thy soul let vain affections die,
Him only worship, and with him comply.
So shall thy spouse's heart with thine agree,
So shall his fervour still increase for thee.
Come, while he calls, supremely-favour'd queen,
In heavenly glories dress thy soul within;
With pious actions to the throne be brought,
In close connection of the virtues wrought;
Let these around thee for a garment shine,
And be the work to make them pleasing thine:
Come, lovely queen, advance with stately port;
Thy good companions shall complete thy court,
With joyful souls their joyful entrance sing,
And fill the palace of your gracious king;
What though thy Moses and the prophets cease,
What though the priesthood leaves the settled race,
The father's place their offspring well supplies,
When at thy spouse's ministry they rise;
When thy bless'd houshold on his orders go,
And rule for him where-e'er he reigns below.
Come, queen exalted, come; my lasting song
To future ages shall thy fame prolong.
The joyful nations shall thy praise proclaim,
And, for their safety, crowd beneath thy name.
Oh, bounteous Saviour! still thy mercy kind,
Still what thy David sung, thy servants find!
Still what thy David sung thy servants see,
From thee seat down, and sent again to thee.
They see the words of thanks, and love divine,
In strains mysterious intermingled shine,
As sweet and rich unite in costly waves,
When purling gold the purpled web receives;
And still the church he shadow'd hears the lays,
In daily service, 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 sky,
Bids Gratitude assist her will to fly;
In these our gratitude becomes on fire,
Then feels its flames improv'd by strong desire;
Then feels desire in eager wishes move,
And wish determine in the point of love.
Such hymns to regulate, and such to raise,
Approach, ye sounding instruments of praise:
'T is fit you tune for him whose holy love,
In wish aspiring 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 solemn sound,
For God's high glory, fill the sacred ground,
And there, and every-where, his wondrous name
Within his firmament of power proclaim.
Soft pleasing lutes with easy sweetness move,
To touch the sentiments of heavenly love;
Assist 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,
Assist the loud Hosannah rais'd on Earth;
When on an ass he meekly rides along,
And multitudes are heard within the song.
Full-tenor'd psaltery join the doleful part,
In which his agony possest his heart;
And seem to feel thyself, and seem to show,
A rising heaviness and signs of woe.
Sonorous organ, at his passion moan,
And utter forth thy sympathizing groan,
In big slow murmurs anxious sorrow speak,
While melancholy winds thine entrails shake.
As when he suffer'd, with complaining sound,
The storms in vaulted caverns shook the ground;
Swift cheerful cymbals give an airy strain,
When, having bravely broke the doubled chain
Of Death and Heil, he left the conquer'd grave,
And rose to visit those he dy'd to save,
And as he mounts in song, and angels sing,
With grand procession, their returning king,
Triumphant trumpets raise their notes on high,
And make them seem to mount, and seem to fly,
Then all at once conspire to praise the Lord,
In music's full consent, and just accord:
Ye sons of art, in such melodious way,
Conclude the service which you join to pay,
While nations sing Amen, and yet again
Hold forth the note, and sing aloud Amen.
Here has my fancy gone where David leads,
Now softly pacing o'er the grassy meads;
Now nobly mounting where the monarchs rear
The gilded spires of palaces in air;
Now shooting thence, upon the level flight,
To dreadful dangers and the toils of fight,
Anon with utmost stretch ascending far,
Beyond the region of the farthest star;
As sharpest-sighted eagles towering fly,
To weather their broad sails in open sky,
At length on wings half-clos'd slide gently down,
And one attempt shall all my labours crown.
In others' verse the rest be better shown,
But this is more, or should be more, thine own.
If then the spirit that supports my lines
Have prov'd unequal to my large designs,
Let others rise from earthly passion's dream,
By me provok'd to vindicate the theme.
Let others round the world in rapture rove,
Or with strong feathers fan the breeze above,
Or walk the dusky shades of Death, and dive
Down Hell's abyss, and mount again alive.
But, oh, my God! may these unartful rhymes
In sober words of woe bemoan my crimes.
'Tis fit the sorrows I for ever vent
Por what I never can enough repent;
"l'is fit, and David shows the moving way,
And with his prayer instructs my soul to pray.
Then, since thy guilt is more than match'd by ine,
And since my troubles should with thine agree,
O Muse, to glories in affliction born!
May thy humility my soul adorn.
For humblest prayers are most affecting strains,
As mines lie rich in lowly planted veins;
Such aid I want, to render mercy kind,
And such 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, whose anger is appeas'd by tears,
Bow gently down thy Mercy's gracious ears;
With many tongues my sins for justice call,
But Mercy's ears are manifold for all.
Those sweet celestial windows open wide,
And in full streams let soft compassion glide;
There wash my soul, and cleanse it yet again,
O throughly cleanse it from the guilty stain;
For I my life with inward anguish see,
And all its wretchedness confess to thee.
The large indictment stands before my view,
Drawn forth by conscience, most amazing true;
And fill'd with secrets hid from human eye,
When, foolish man, thy God stood witness by.
Then, oh, thou majesty divinely great,
Accept the sad confessions I repeat,
Which clear thy justice to the world below,
Should dismal sentence doom my soul to woe.
When in the silent womb my shape was made,
And from the womb to lightsome life convey'd,
Curs'd sin began to take unhappy root,
And through my veins its early fibres shoot;
And then what goodness didst thou show, to kill
The rising weeds, and principles of ill;
When to my breast, in fair celestial flame,
Eternal Truth and lovely Wisdom came,
Bright gift, by simple Nature never got,
But here reveal'd to change the ancient blot.
This wondrous help which Mercy pleas'd to granť,
Continue still, for still thine aid I want;
And, as the men whom leprosies invade,
Or they that touch the carcase of the dead,
With hyssop sprinkled, and by water clean'd,
Their former pureness in the law regain'd;
So purge my soul, diseas'd, alas! within,
And much polluted with dead works of sin.
For such bless'd favours at thine hand I sue,
Be grace thine hyssop and thy water too.
Then shall my whiteness for perfection vie
With blanching snows that newly leave the sky.
Thus, through my mind, thy voice of gladness send,
Thus speak the joyful word, I will be clean'd;
That all my strength, consum'd with mournful
May, by thy saving health, rejoice again: [pain,
And now no more my foul offences see,
O turn from these, but turn thee not from me;
Or, lest they make me too deform'd a sight,
Oh, blot them with Oblivion's endless night,
Then further pureness to thy servant grant,
Another heart, or change in this, I want.
Create another, or the change create,
For now my vile corruption is so great,
It seems a new creation to restore
Its fall'n estate to what it was before.
Renew my spirit, raging in my breast,
And all its passions in their course 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 presence from my soul:
There let it shine, so let me be restor❜d
To present joy, which conscious hopes afford.
There let it sweetly shine, and o'er my breast
Diffuse the dawning of eternal rest;
Then shall the wicked this compassion see,
And learn thy worship, and thy works, from me.
For 1, to such occasions of thy praise,
Will tune my lyre, and consecrate my lays.
Unseal my lips, where guilt and shame have hung,
To stop the passage of my grateful tongue,
And let my prayer and song ascend, my prayer
Here join'd with saints, my song with angels there;
Yet neither prayer I'd give, nor songs alone,
If either offerings were as much thy own:
But thine's the contrite spirit, thine's an heart
Oppress'd with sorrow, broke with inward smart;
That at thy footstool in confession shows,.
How well its faults, how well the judge it knows;
That sin with sober resolution flies,
This gift thy mercy never will despise."
Then in my soul a mystic altar rear,
And such a sacrifice I'll offer there.
There shall it stand, in vows of virtue bound,
There falling tears shall wash it all around;
And sharp remorse, yet sharper edg'd by woe,
Deserv'd and fear'd, inflict the bleeding blow;
There shall my thoughts to holy breathings fly,
Instead of incense to perfume the sky,
And thence my willing heart aspires above,
A victim panting in the flames of love.
As through the Psalms, from theme to theme I chang'd,
Methinks like Eve in Paradise I rang'd;
And every grace of song I seem'd to see,
As the gay pride of every season she;
She, gently treading all the walks around,
Admir'd the springing beauties of the ground,
The lily, glistering with the morning dew,
The rose 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 she pull'd a flower,
To strew with moss, and paint her leafy bower;
And here and there, like her I went along,
Chose a bright strain, and bid it deck my song. 1
But now the sacred singer leaves mine eye,
Crown'd as he was, I think he mounts on high:
Ere this Devotion bore his heavenly Psalms,
And now himself bears up his harp and palms.
Go, saint triumphant, leave the changing sight,
So fitted out, you suit the realms of light;
But let thy glorious robe at parting go,
Those realms have robes of more effulgent show;
It flies, it falls, the fluttering silk I see;
Thy son has caught it, and he sings like thee,
With such 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 sight enchanted clouds dispose,
Whence wanton Cupids shoot with gilded bows,
A nobler writer, strains more brightly wrought,
Themes more exalted, fill my wondering thought:
The parted skies are track'd with flames above,
As Love descends to meet ascending Love;
The seasons flourish where the spouses meet,
And earth in gardens spreads beneath their feet;
This fresh-bloom prospect in the bosom throngs,
When Solomon begins his song of songs,
Bids the wrapt soul to Lebanon repair,
And lays the scene of all his actions there;
Where as he wrote, and from the bower survey'd
The scenting groves, or answering knots he made,
His sacred art the sights of Nature brings,
Beyond their use, to figure heavenly things.
Great Son of God! whose gospel pleas'd to
Round thy rich glory veils of earthly show; [throw
Who made the vineyard of thy church design,
Who made the marriage-feast a type of thine;
Assist my verses, which attempt to trace
The shadow'd beauties of celestial grace,
And with illapses of seraphic fire
The work which pleas'd thee once, once more in-
Look, or Illusion's airy visions draw,
Or now I walk the gardens which I saw,
Where silver waters feed a flowering spring,
And winds salute it with a balmy wing.
There, on a bank, whose shades directly rise,
To screen the Sun, and not exclude the skies,
There sits the sacred Church; methinks I view
The spouse's aspect, and her ensigns too.
Her face has features where the Virtues reign,
Her hands the book of sacred Love contain,
A light (Truth's emblem) on her bosom shines,
And at her side the meekest lamb reclines:
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 bursts forth, and raptures thus begin:
"Let Him, that Him my soul adores above,
In close communions breathe his holy love;
For these bless'd words his pleasing lips impart,
Beyond all cordials, cheer the fainting heart.
As rich and sweet the precious ointments stream,
So rich thy graces flow, so sweet thy name
Diffuses sacred joy; 't is 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 sincere delights;
There, join'd by mystic union, I rejoice,
Exalt my temper and enlarge my voice,
And celebrate thy joys, supremely more
Than earthly bliss; 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 shine with beams of grace,
As the black tents, where Ishmael's line abides,
With glittering trophies dress their inward sides;
Or as thy curtains, Solomon, are seen,
Whose plaits conceal a golden throne within.
"Twere wrong to judge me by the carnal sight,
And yet my visage was by nature white
But fiery suns, which persecute the meek,
Found me abroad, and scorch'd my rosy 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 lost, I gave my labour o’er,
And my own vineyard grew deform'd the more.
Behold I turn; O say, my soul's desire,
Where dost thou feed thy flock, and where retire
To rest that flock, when noon-tide heats arise?
Shepherd of Israel, teach my dubious eyes
To guide me right; for why should thine abide
Where wandering shepherds turn their flocks a-
side?"
So spake the Church, and sigh'd: a purple light
Sprung forth, the Godhead stood reveal'd to sight.
And Heaven and Nature smil'd; as white as snow
His seamless vesture loosely fell below:
Sedate and pleas'd, he nodded: round his head
The pointed glory shook, and thus he said:
"If thou, the loveliest of the beauteous kind,
If thou canst want thy shepherd's walk to fin
Go by the foot-steps where my flocks have trod,
My saints, obedient to the laws of God;
Go, where their tents my teaching servants rear,
And feed the kids, thy young believers there.
Should thus my flocks increase, my fair delight,
I view their numbers, and compare the sight
To Pharaoh's horses 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 so like gems the riches of my grace,
And so descending glory chers thy face:
Gay bridal robes a flowering silver strows,
Bright gold engrailing on the border glows."
He spake; the spouse admiring heard the sound,
Then, meekly bending on the sacred ground,
She cries, "Oh present to my ravish'd breast,
This sweet communion is an inward feast,
There sits the king, while all around our heads
His grace, my spikenard, pleasing odours sheds
About my soul, his holy comfort flies;
So closely treasur'd in the bosom lies
The bundled myrrh, so sweet the scented gale
Breathes all En-gedi's aromatic vale."
"Now," says the king, "my love, I see thec fair,
Thine eyes, for mildness, with the dove's com-
pare."
"No, thou belov'd, art fair," the Church replies,
"(Since all my beauties but from thee arise;)
All fair, all pleasant, these communions show
Thy counsels pleasant, and thy comforts so.
And as at marriage feasts they strow the flowers,
With nuptial chaplets hang the summer bowers,
And make the rooms of smelling cedars fine,
Where the fond bridegroom and the bride recline;
I dress my soul with such exceeding care,
With such, with more, to court thy presence
there."
[rose
"Well hast thou prais'd," he says, "the Sharon
Through flowery fields a pleasing odour throws,
The valley lilies ravish'd sense regale,
And with pure whiteness paint their humble vale:
Such names of sweetness are thy lover's due,
And thou, my love, be thou a lily too,
A lily set in thorns; for all I see,
All other daughters, are as thorns to thee."
Then she; "the trees that pleasing apples yield, Surpass the barren trees that clothe the field; So you surpass the sons with worth divine, So shade, and fruit as well as shade, is thine. I sat me down, and saw thy branches spread, And green protection flourish o'er my head; saw thy fruit, the soul's celestial food, I pull'd, I tasted, and I found it good. Hence in the spirit to the blissful seats, Where Love, to feast, mysteriously retreats, He led me forth; I saw 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 sick with love. Ah! while my tongue reveals my fond desire, His hands support me, lest my life expire; As round a child the parent's arms are plac'd, This holds the head, and that enfolds the waist." Here ceas'd the Church, and lean'd her languid head,
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Bent down with joy; when thus the lover said:
Behold, ye daughters of the realm of peace,
She sleeps, at least her thoughts of sorrow cease.
Now, by the bounding roes, the skipping fawns,
Near the cool brooks, or o'er the grassy lawns,
By all the tender innocents that rove,
Your hourly charges, in my sacred grove,
Guard the dear charge from each approach of ill,
I would not have her wake but when she will."
So rest the Church and Spouse: my verses so
Appear to languish with the flames you show,
And pausing rest; but not the pause be long,
For still thy Solomon pursues the song.
Then keep the place in view; let sweets more rare
Than earth produces fill the purpled air;
Let something solemn overspread the green,
Which seems to tell us, Here the Lord has been!
But let the virgin still in prospect shine,
And other strains of hers euliven mine.
She wakes, she rises: bid the whispering breeze
More softly whisper in the waving trees,
Or fall with silent awe; bid all around,
Before the Church's voice, abate their sound,
While thus her shadowy strains attempt to show
A future advent of the spouse below:
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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 paths his prophets us'd to show! And now he looks from yon partition-wall, Built till he comes-'t is only then to fall, And now he's nearer in the promise seen, Too faint the sight-'t is 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
An opening spring design the day of grace.
Hark! or 1 dream, or else I hear him say,
Arise, my love; my fair one come away;
For now the tempests of thy winter end,
Thick rains no more in heavy drops descend;
Sweet painted flowers their silken leaves unclose,
And dress the face of Earth with varied shows;
In the green wood the singing birds renew
Their chirping notes, the silver turtles coo:
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