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My mother waits thee, thither thou repair,
Long-waiting Ifrael wants thy presence there.
The lover fimiles to fee the virgin's pain;

The mifts roll off, and quit the flowery plain;

Yes, there I come, he says, thy forrow cease; And guard her, daughters of the realms of peace,. By all the bounding roes and 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'll have her feel my comforts while fhe will.
Here, hand in hand, with chearful heart they go,
When wandering Salem fees the folemn show,
Dreams the rich pomp of Solomon again,
And thus her daughters fing, th" approaching fcene:
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 ascends.
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 Ifrael's fons, 'tis there they quell
The foes within, the foes without repel.
The guard his miniftry, their fwords of fight,
His facred laws, her present state of night.
He forms a chariot too, to bring her there,
Not the carv'd: frame of Solomon fo fair;

Sweet

Sweet fmells the chariot as the temple ftood,
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 show,

If crown'd with gold, and by the queen bestow'd,
To grace his nuptials, Jacob's monarch rode;
A crown of glory from the King Divine,

Το grace thefe nuptials, makes the Saviour shine;
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 fondness longs to fing the dame.
He speaks, admiring Nature stands around,
And learns new mufic, while it hears the found.
Behold, my love, how fair thy beauties show,
Behold how more, how moft 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 fhine 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 numeroufly fed,
Graze the green top of lofty Gilead's head;

All

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 anfwering each, whilst all the publick aid;
These lovely graces in my church I find,
This candor, order, and accorded mind :
Thus when the feafon bids the fhepherd lave
His sheep new fhorn within the crystal wave;
Wath'd they return, in such 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 scarlet thread!
But, if they part, what music wafts the air!
So fweet thy praises, and so soft thy prayer.
If through thy loosen'd curls, with honest shame,
Thy lovely temples fine complexion flame,
Whatever crimson granate bloffoms show,
'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 asp ire
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 ftill demand my lays,
What image wakes to charm me whilst 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 refemblance fpotlefs virtues show,
And in fuch lilies feed my young below.
But now, farewell, till night's dark shades decay,
Farewel, my virgin, till the break of day;
Swift for the hills of spice 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 fhade,
Charm forth the morning, and relieve the maid.
Arife, fair fun, the church attends to fee
The fun of righteoufnefs arife in thee;
Arife, fair fun; and bit 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 fcene,

And hear the mystic love pursued again.

Now to the mount, whofe fpice perfumes the day, 'Tis I invite thee; come, my fpouse, away; Come, leave thy Lebanon: is aught we fee In all thy Lebanon, compar'd to me? Nor tow'rd thy Canaan turn with wifhful 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 fpcufe, my fifter, O thy wondrous art, Which through my bofom drew my ravish'd heart!

Won

Won by one eye, my ravisli'd heart is gone,
For all thy feeing guides confent as one.

›Drawn by one chain, which round thy body plies, For all thy members one blefs'd union ties. My spouse, my fifter, O the charm to please, When love repaid returns my bofom ease! Strongly thy love, and ftrongly wines restore, But wines muft yield, thy love enflames me more, Sweetly thine ointments (all thy virtues) fmell, Not altar-fpices please thy king fo well. How foft thy doctrine on thy lips refides! From those two combs the dropping honey glides; All pure without, as all within fincere, Beneath thy tongue-I find it honey there. Ah, while thy graces thus around thee shine, The charms of Lebanon must yield to thine! His fpring, his garden, every fcented tree, My spoufe, my fifter, all I find in thee. Thee, for myself, I fence, I fhut, 'I feal; Myfterious fpring, myfterious garden, hail! 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, spikenard, 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 fpread her arms where-e'er the spirit flies): Ye cooling northern gales, who freshly shake My balmy reeds; ye northern gales, awake.

And

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