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My fpicy flowerets, mingled as they fly,
With doubling odours croud a balmy sky.
Now all the fruits, which crown the season, view,
Thefe nearer fruits are old, and thofe are new;
And thefe, and all of every loaded tree,
My love, I gather, and referve for thee.
If then thy spouse's labour please thee well,
Oh! like my brethren, with thy Sifter dwell;
No blameless maid, whose fond careffes meet
An infant-brother in the public street,

Clings to its lips with lefs referve than I

Would hang on thine, where'er I found thee nigh:
No shame would make me from thy fide remove,
No danger make me not confefs thy love.
Strait to my mother's houfe, thine Ifrael she
(And thou my monarch wouldst arrive with me);
'Tis there I'd lead thee, where I mean to stay,
Till thou, by her, inftruct my foul to pray;
There shalt thou prove my virtues, drink my wine,
And feel my joy, to find me wholly thine.
Oh! while my foul were fick, through fond defire,
Thine hands fhould hold me left my life expire;
As round a child the parents' arms are plac'd,
This holds the head, and that enfolds the waist.
So caft thy cares on me, the lover cry'd,
Lean to my bofom, lean, my lovely bride;
And now, ye daughters of the realm of blifs,
Let nothing difcompofe a love like this;
But guard her reft from each approach of ill;
I caus'd her languor, guard her while she will.

Here

Here pause the lines, but foon the lines renew,
Once more the pair celestial come to view;
Ah! feek 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 fhines out, but shines not half so 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 spouse! Oh! favour'd o'er the rest!
Who walks reclin'd by such a lover's breast.

The fpoufe, 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 search 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 loose, love, mix'd with jealous dread!
As foon the marble tomb resigns the dead.

Its fatal arrows fiery-pointed fall,

The fire intense, 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 agree,
With foft regard our little fifter fee;

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

Too much a Gentile at her erring heart;
Hér day draws nearer; what have we to do,-
Lest she be ask'd, and prove unworthy too ?
Defpair not, fpoufe, he cries; we 'll find the means,
Her good beginnings afk the greater pains.

Let her but ftand, the 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 spare the cost ?):

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

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

We'll clofe in cedar's uncorrupting wood.

Wrapt with the news, the spouse 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 fay, Yes, I'm a wall; lo! fhe that boafted none, Now boafts of breafts unmeasurably grown; Large towery buildings, where fecurely rests A thousand thousand 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 laft,
Thus adds afsurance 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 purfes 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 shall 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 spotless, for I must away,
Say, fpoufe, 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 spouse address'd the prayer 3.
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 'lt-honour waits thy coming down
Nor let fuch fwiftnefs in the roes be fhown

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

J. ON A H.

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

And now, thou fairett garden ever made,
Broad banks of fpices, bloffom'd walks of fhadé,
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 fcene fupplies;
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 juft arrives before;
He fees a fhip unmooring, foft the gales,
He pays, and enters, and the veffel fails.

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

Weak

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