A paraphrase vpon the Song of Solomon by G. S.

Cant. II. (Book 2)

SPONSUS.

I Am the Lilly of the Vale, The Rose of Sharons fragrant Dale: Lo, as th'unsullyed Lilly shows Which in a Brake of Brambles grows; My Love so darkens all that are By erring men admir'd for faire.

SPONSA.

Lo, as the Tree which Citrons bears Amidst the barren shrubs appears: So my Belov'd excells the Race Of Man in every winning Grace. In his desired Shade I rest, And with his Fruits my Pallate feast:

He brought me to his Magazines, Replenisht with refreshing wines: And over me, a tender Maid, The Ensignes of his love display'd. With Flagons ô receive my Powers, And strew my Bed with Fruits and Flowres, Whose taste and smell may cordiall prove, For, ah, my Soul is sick with Love: Beneath my head thy left Arme place, And gently with thy Right embrace.

SPONSUS.

You Daughters of Ierusalem, You Branches of that Holy Stem, I, by the mountain Roes, and by The Harts which through the Forrest fly, Adjure you that you silence keep, Nor, till she call, disturbe her sleep.

SPONSA.

Is it a Dreame! or do I heare, The Voice that so delights mine Eare! Lo, he o're Hils his steps extends, And bounding from the Cliffs descends; Now like a Roe, out-strips the wind, And leaves the breathed Hart behind. Behold! without my Dearest stayes, And through the lattice darts his Rayes. Thus, as his looks, his words invite: O thou the Crown of my Delight, Arise my Love, my Faire One, rise, O Come, delay our Ioy envyes. Lo, the sharp Winter now is gone, The threatning Tempests over-blown; Harke, how the Aires Musicians sing, And carrol to the floury Spring,

Chast Turtles, hous'd in shady Groves, Now murmur to their faithfull Loves: Green Figs on sprouting trees appear, And Vines sweet smelling Blosomes bear. Arise my Love, my Faire one Rise, O Come! delay our Ioy envies. O thou my Dove, whom Terror locks Within the Cranies of the Rocks; Come forth, now like thy self appear, And with thy Voice delight mine Eare: Thy Voice in Musick, and thy Face All conquers with resistlesse Grace. My lov'd Companions, for my sake, These Foxes, these young Foxes take: Who thus our tender Grapes destroy, And in their prosperous Rapine joy. I am my Loves, and He is mine; So mutually our Souls combine!

He, whose affection words exceeds, His Flock among the Lillies feeds. Return to me my onely Dear; Stay till the Morning Star appear; Stay till Nights duskie shadows fly Before the Dayes illustrious Eye. Run like a Roe, or Hart, upon The loftie Hils of Bitheron.