Classic Poem

CHAP. VIII.

PART I.

O How I wish, that thou, my love,
Wouldst to me as a brother prove!
Fed by those breasts, born on that knee,
Which suckled and supported me.
With how much joy I should thee meet,
Or in the field, or in the street!
There I'd embrace thee, there I'd kiss;
Nor should I be despis'd for this.
How gladly would I lead thee home!
Wither thou wouldst as gladly come,
To my dear mother's pleasant seat,
Where thou shouldst many welcomes meet.
Thy kind instructions all should find
A liftening ear, and pliant mind:
Wine mix'd with spices I'd prepare,
And thou shouldst freely drink it there.
The fruit of my pomegranate-tree
Should yield its grateful juice to thee.
His left hand should my head uphold,
His right arm should me round enfold.

The Bridegroom .

O daughters of Jerusalem,
(Fair offspring of a noble stem)
Since here my love now rests secure,
You I most solemnly adjure;
Permit her soft repose to take,
And no indecent clamour make;
Nor jog her as she slumbring lies,
Till she herself is pleas'd to rise.