Classic Poem

S PONSUS .

M Y spouse, my sister, thou who art
The joy and treasure of My heart,
I to My garden have retir'd,
Reap'd spices which perfumes expir'd,
Sweet gums from trees profusely shed,
On dropping combs of honey fed;
Drunk morning milk with new-press'd wine:
O friends, whom like desires combine,
Eat, drink, drink freely; nor remove,
Till you be all inflam'd with love.

S PONSA .

Although I sleep, my passions wake,
For He Who knock'd thus sadly spake:
My love, My sister, thou more mild
Than galless doves, My undefil'd,
O let Me enter! Night hath shed
Her dew on My uncover'd head,
Which from My drenched locks distills,
And with a frozen numbness chills.
Can I assent to Thy request,
Disrob'd and newly laid to rest?
Shall I now clothe myself again,
And feet so lately wash'd distain?
But when I had His hand discern'd
Drawn from the latch, my bowels yearn'd:
I rose, no longer could defer
To unlock the door; when liquid myrrh,
Thence dropping, on my finger fell,
And breath'd an odoriferous smell.
But, ah! when open'd, He was gone;
His grief fetch'd from my heart a groan.
In vain I sought my soul's Belov'd;
I call'd Him, O too far remov'd!
The watch, and those who walk the round,
In this pursuit th' afflicted found;
Smote, wounded, and profanely tore
The sable veil my sorrow wore.
You virgins of fair Solyma,
I charge you, if you meet Him, say
That I, His spouse, am sick for love,
And with your tears soft pity move.

C HORUS .

O THOU of all our sex most fair,
Can none with thy Belov'd compare?
Doth He so much our loves transcend,
That we alone should Him intend?

S PONSA .

L O ! in His face the blushing rose,
Join'd with the virgin lily, grows.
Among a myriad He appears
The Chief, and beauty's ensign bears.
His head, adorn'd with burnish'd gold,
Which curls of shining hair enfold,
Black as the newly-pruned crow.
His eyes like doves by fountains show,
Late bathed in a rivulet
Of milk, alike exactly set.
His cheeks, sweet spice and flow'rs confer:
His lips, like roses dropping myrrh.
His hand the wand'ring eye invites,
Like rings that blaze with chrysolites.
His belly, polish'd ivory,
Where sapphires in blue branches lie.
His legs, like marble pillars, plac'd
On bases with pure gold enchas'd.
His looks, like cedars planted on
The brows of lofty Lebanon.
His tongue the ear with music feeds,
And He in ev'ry part exceeds.
You daughters of Jerusalem,
Such is my Friend, my praise's theme.