Classic Poem

PART II.

The Daughters of Jerusalem .

Who's this that from the desart moves,
Leaning upon the arm she loves?

The B RIDEGROOM .

At first, my love, I rais'd up thee
Under the fruitful apple-tree;
There many a pang, and many a throw
Did thy fair mother undergo;
But after many pangs and throws,
Did her blest fruit at last disclose.

The B RIDE .

O let my name be deep imprest,
Like a fair signet, on thy breast!
Engrave it on thy arm, and wear
The precious seal for ever there:
For there's so great a power in love,
Not death itself so strong can prove;
The king of terrors in his pride
By fiercer jealousy's outvy'd:
Those darts shine with celestial fire,
Those darts a love divine inspire,
A love whose flame can never be
Extinguish'd by th' o'erflowing sea:
The swelling floods in vain conspire
To quench so pure and bright a fire.
He whose large stores do most abound,
Too poor to purchase love is found;
His offers would successless prove,
Should he give all his wealth for love;
Love at so high a rate is priz'd,
His treasures would be all despis'd.