Here pause the lines, but foon the lines renew,
Once more the pair celeftial come to view;
Ah! seek them once, my ravish'd fancy, more,
And then thy fongs of Solomon are o'er :
By yon green bank pursue their orb of light,
The fun shines out, but fhines not half fo bright.
See Salem's maids, in white, attend the King,
They greet the spouses -hark, to what they fing.
Who, from the defert, where the wandering clouds
High Sinai pierces, comes involv'd with crowds?
'Tis fhe, the fpoufe! Oh! favour'd o'er the rest!
Who walks reclin'd by fuch a lover's breast.

The spouse, rejoicing, heard the kind falute,
And thus addrefs'd him-all the reft were mute.
Beneath the law, our goodly parent tree,
I went, my much-belov'd, in fearch of thee;
For thee, like one in pangs of travail, strove;
Hence, none may wonder, if I gain thy love.
As feals their pictures to the wax impart,
So let my picture ftamp thy gentle heart;
As fix'd the fignets on our hands remain,
So fix me thine, and ne'er to part again;
For Love is ftrong as Death, whene'er they strike,
Alike imperious, vainly check'd alike

But dread to loofe, love, mix'd with jealous dread! As foon the marble tomb refigns the dead.

Its fatal arrows fiery-pointed fall,

The fire intenfe, and thine the most of all;
To flack the points no chilling floods are found,
Nay, fhould afflictions roll like floods around,

Were wealth of nations offer'd, all would prove
Too small a danger, or a price for love.

If then with love this world of worth agrees
With foft regard our little fister fee;

How far unapt, as yet, like maids that own
No breasts at all, or breasts but hardly grown;
Her part of Profelyte is scarce a part,

Too much a Gentile at her erring heart;

Her day draws nearer; what have we to do,
Left she be ask'd, and prove unworthy too?
Despair not, fpoufe, he cries; we 'll find the means,
Her good beginnings ask the greater pains.

Let her but ftand, fhe thrives; a wall too low
Is not rejected for the standing so;.

What falls is only loft, we 'll build her high,
Till the rich palace glitters in the sky.

The door that's weak (what need we fpare the coft?)"

If 'tis a door, we need not think it loft;

The leaves the brings us, if thofe leaves be good,

We'll close in cedar's uncorrupting wood.

Wrapt with the news, the fpoufe converts her eyes, And, oh! companions to the maids, fhe cries, What joys are ours, to hail the nuptial day, Which calls our fifter!--Hark, I hear her say, Yes, I'm a wall; lo! fhe that boasted none, Now boasts of breafts unmeasurably grown; Large towery buildings, where fecurely refts A thousand thoufand of my lover's guests; The vast increase affords his heart delight, And I find favour in his heavenly fight,

The

The lover here, to make her rapture last,
Thus adds affurance to the promise past.
A fpacious vine-yard, in Baal-Hamon vale,
The vintage fet, by Solomon, to fale,
His keepers took; and every keeper paid
A thousand purses for the gains he made.
And I 've a vintage too; his vintage bleeds
A large increase, but my return exceeds.
Let Solomon receive his keeper's pay,

He gains his thousand, their two hundred they;
Mine is mine own, 'tis in my prefence ftill,
And fhall increase the more, the more he will.
My love, my vineyard, oh the future shoots
Which fill my garden-rows with facred fruits!
I faw the listening maids attend thy voice,
And in their liftening faw their eyes rejoice;
A due fuccefs thy words of comfort met,
Now turn to me-'tis I would hear thee yet.
Say, dove, and fpotlefs, for I must away,
Say, spouse, and fifter, all you wish to say.
He spake; the place was bright with lambent fire,
(But what is brightness, if the Chrift retire ?)
Gold-bordering purple mark'd his road in air,
And kneeling all, the fpoufe addrefs'd the prayer:
Defire of nations! if thou must be gone,
Accept our wishes, all compriz'd in one;
We wait thine advent! Oh, we long to fee
I, and my fifter, both as one, in thee.

Then leave thy heaven, and come and dwell below; Why faid I leave?'tis heaven where-e'er you go.

Hafte,

Hafte, my belov'd, thy promise hafte to crown,
The form thou 'It honour waits thy coming down;
Nor let fuch fwiftnefs in the roes be shown

To fave themselves, as thine to fave thine own.
Hafte, like the nimblest harts, that lightly bound
Before the ftretches of the fwifteft hound;
With reaching feet devour a level way,
Acrofs their backs their branching antlers lay,
In the cool dews their bending body ply,
And brush the fpicy mountains as they fly.

THUS fung the king-fome angel reach a bough From Eden's tree to crown the wifeft brow.

And now, thou faireft garden ever made,
Broad banks of fpices, bloffom'd walks of shade,
O Lebanon! where much I love to dwell,
Since I must leave thee, Lebanon, farewell!
Swift from my foul the fair idea flies,
A wilder fight the changing scene supplies;
Wide feas come rolling to my future page,
And ftorms ftand ready, when I call, to rage.
Then go where Joppa crowns the winding fhore,
The prophet Jonah just arrives before;
He fees a fhip unmooring, foft the gales,
He pays, and enters, and the veffel fails.

Ah, wouldst thou fly thy God? rafh man, forbear. What land fo diftant but thy God is there?

Weak

Weak reafon, cease thy voice.-They run the deep,
And the tir'd Prophet lays his limbs to fleep.
Here God speaks louder, sends a storm to sea,
The clouds remove to give the vengeance way;
Strong blasts come whistling, by degrees they roar,
And fhove big furges tumbling on to fhore;
The veffel bounds, then rolls, and every blast
Works hard to tear her by the groaning maft;
The failors, doubling all their shouts and cares,
Furl the white canvas, and caft forth the wares;
Each feek the God their native regions own,
In vain they feek them, for thofe Gods were none.
Yet Jonah flept the while, who folely knew,
In all that number, where to find the true.

To whom the pilot.

Our Gods are deaf;

Sleeper, rife and pray,

may thine do more than they !
But thus they reft, perhaps we waft a foe
To heaven itself, and that 's our caufe of woe;
Let's feek by lots, if heaven be pleas'd to tell ;

And what they fought by lots, on Jonah fell:
Then, whence he came, and who, and what, and why
Thus rag'd the tempeft, all confus'dly cry;

Each prefs'd in hafte to get his question heard,
When Jonah ftops them with a grave regard.

An Hebrew man, you fee, who God revere,

He made this world, and makes this world his care;
His the whirl'd fky, thefe waves that lift their head,
And his yon land, on which you long to tread.
He charg'd me late, to Nineveh repair,

And to their face denounce his fentence there:

Go,