Classic Poem

CANT. VII.

S PONSUS .

O PRINCESS , thou than life more dear,
How beautiful thy feet appear,
When they, with purple ribands bound,
In golden sandals print the ground!
Thy joints, like jewels, which impart
To wond'ring eyes the workman's art.
Thy navel, like a mazer, fill'd
With juice from rarest fruits distill'd.
Thy belly, like a heap of wheat,
With never fading lilies set.
Thy breasts two roes, new weaned, show,
Which fell at once from one fair doe.
Thy neck an ivory tow'r displays:
Thine eyes, which shine with equal rays,
Like Heshbon's pools by Bathrabim,
Where silver-scaled fishes swim.
Thy nose presents that tow'r upon
The face of flow'ry Lebanon,
Which all the pleasant plain surveys,
Where Abana her streams displays.
Thy head, like Carmel, cloth'd with shade,
Whose tresses Tyrian fillets braid.
The king, from cypress galleries,
This chain of strong affection ties.
How pleasant! O how exquisite!
Thy beauty fram'd for sweet delight!
Thy stature like an upright palm!
Thy breasts like clusters dropping balm!
I will ascend the palm's high crown,
Whose boughs victorious hands renown,
And, from the spreading branches' root,
Will gather her delicious fruit.
Thy breasts shall like ripe clusters swell,
Thy breath like new-pull'd citrons smell.
Choice wines shall from thy palate spring,
Most acceptable to the King,
Which sweetly shall descend, and make
The dumb to speak, the dead to wake.

S PONSA .

I MY Belov'd am only Thine,
And Thou by just exchange art mine.
Come, let us tread the pleasant fields,
Taste we what fruit the country yields,
And in the villages repose,
When shades of night all forms inclose:
Then with the early morn repair
To our new vineyard; see if there
The tender vines thrust forth their gems,
And granates blossom on their stems.
There, where no frosts our spring destroy,
Shalt Thou alone my love enjoy.
How sweet a smell our mandrakes yield!
Our gates with various fruits are fill'd,
Fruits that are old, fruits from the tree
New-gather'd, all preserv'd for Thee.