The canticles or balades of Salomon, phraselyke declared in Englysh metres, by William Baldwin

¶The seuenth Chapter.

* 1.1HOw pleasant are thy treadynges in thy shoes, O thou princes daughter? The cumpas of thy thighes are lyke a good¦ly iewel whiche is wrought by the han∣des of a cunning wurkman. Thy nauel is lyke a rounde goblet whiche neuer is without drynke.

Thy belly is lyke an heap of wheat set aboute with lillies. Thy two brestes are lyke two twin∣nes of young Roes. Thy necke is as it were a to∣wer of yuory. Thyne iyes are lyke the water po∣les that are in Hesebon, besyde the porte of Bath∣rabim. Thy face is lyke the tower of Libanus, whiche loketh towarde Damascus. Thy head is lyke Carmell, and thy heares lyke a kyng goyng furth with his garde about hym.

¶The Argument.

CHriste hauyng taught the Younglynges to knowe the true Spouse by her pitched tentes, which as it is decla∣red before, are the bookes of scripture, out of whiche, she ke∣peth warre agaynst the enemies of the truthe: begynneth to prayse her afresh, syngyng.

Christe to his Spouse. lv.

THou that art my dawhter, who am the prīce of peace, Because thou preachest peace of conscience in my blood How plesant are thy steps which swiftly stil increace To shew my gospell euery where? Jn shoes both strong and good, For preachers to weare. The cumpas of thy thyghes, thy power for to beget And to engendre suche as to my truth must stycke, Because it styl bring the furth, withouten stop or let, Js lyke an endles lynked chayne, Of Gods own hand made tricke Alwayes to remayne. Thy Nauyl rounde, that is the holy Byble boke, Through whiche thy young do sucke the mylke of foode diuine: Js alwayes full for all that can my doctrine broke, Lyke to a mazar brode in brynke, Whiche neuer wanteth wyne, For them that woulde drynke. Thy Belly byg and hart, thy affeccions and thy thought Full of Gods holy wurd that fine and deyntie meat, Whiche nurisheth the soule, by which (whan thou wilt ought) Thou searchest fyrst what Gods wyl is, Js lyke an heap of wheate, Beset with Lillies. Thy brestes, thy ready help to comfort them that nede, Aboundyng styl, are lyke ashe goates double twin. Thy necke, thy fayth is lyke an yuory tower in dede, For it is perfect, strong, and clear, Without and eke within, As it doeth appear.

Thyne iyes, thyne vpryght iudgementes in my wurd so brim, Styll iust and full, are lyke the pooles in Hesebon, Of waters clere, besyde the porte of Bathrabim: For where the people gathered are, Thou truth to euery one Doest iustly declare. Thy face, thy wurkes, by whiche all people doe thee know, For which thou through my blud, doest hope to haue reward, Surmountyng in theyr heygth mans wurkes that lye below, Are lyke the tower of Libanus That alwayes hath regard Toward Damascus. Thy head, J Christe my selfe, a circumcised lambe, Am lyke to Carmell ground, both fertile, free and harde, Thy heares also, the truthes wherwith J thee emflambe, Are purple coulored lyke a kyng That goeth furth with his gard, Hym inuironyng.

Notes

• * 1.1

  The texte.