BOOK THE FIFTH.

No. I.

Illustration-One sitting sad on the ground; Virgins passing by.

I charge you, O daughters of Jerusalem, if ye find my beloved, that ye tell him, that I am sick of love.-CANTICLES v. 8.

1 YE holy virgins, that so oft surround

The city's sapphire walls; whose snowy feet Measure the pearly paths of sacred ground,

And trace the new Jerusalem's jasper street; Ah! whose care-forsaken hearts are crown'd

you

With your best wishes; that enjoy the sweet

Of all your hopes; if e'er you chance to spy My absent love, oh, tell him that I lie Deep wounded with the flames that furnaced from his eye.

2 I charge you, virgins, as you hope to hear

The heav'nly music of your Lover's voice;
I charge you, by the solemn faith you bear
To plighted vows, and to that loyal choice
your affections, or, if aught more dear
You hold, by Hymen, by your marriage joys;

Of

I charge you tell him, that a flaming dart,
Shot from his eye, hath pierced my bleeding
heart,

And I am sick of love, and languish in my smart.

3 Tell him, oh tell him, how my panting breast

Is scorch'd with flames, and how my soul is pined; Tell him, oh tell him, how I lie opprest

With the full torments of a troubled mind;
Oh tell him, tell him, that he loves in jest,
But I in earnest; tell him he's unkind:
But if a discontented frown appears

Upon his angry brow, accost his ears
With soft and fewer words, and act the rest in tears.

4 Oh tell him, that his cruelties deprive

My soul of peace, while peace in vain she seeks; Tell him, those damask roses that did strive

With white, both fade upon my sallow cheeks; Tell him, no token doth proclaim I live,

But tears, and sighs, and sobs, and sudden shrieks; Thus if your piercing words should chance to bore His heark'ning ear, and move a sigh, give o'er To speak; and tell him, tell him that I could no more.

5 If your elegious breath should hap to rouse

A happy tear, close harb'ring in his eye,

Then urge

his plighted faith, the sacred vows,

Which neither I can break, nor he deny ;
Bewail the torment of his loyal spouse,

That for his sake would make a sport to die:
O blessed virgins, how my passion tires

Beneath the burden of her fond desires!

Heav'n never shot such flames, earth never felt such fires!

What shall I say? what shall I do? whither shall I go? where shall I seek him? or when shall I find him? whom shall I ask? who will tell my beloved that I am sick of love?—S. AUGUST. Med. Cap. xl.

I live, but not I: it is my beloved that liveth in me: I love myself, not with my own love, but with the love of my beloved that loveth me: I love not myself in myself, but myself in him, and him in me.-GULIEL. in Cap. v. Cant.

EPIG. 1.

Grieve not, my soul, nor let thy love wax faint:
Weep'st thou to lose the cause of thy complaint?
He'll come; love ne'er was bound to times nor laws;
Till then thy tears complain without a cause.

No. II.

Illustration-One on ground-two Virgins holding him up-flowers and apples around.

Stay me with flowers, and comfort me with apples; for I am sick of love.— CANTICLES ii. 5.

1 0 TYRANT love! how doth thy sov'reign pow'r

Subject poor souls to thy imperious thrall! They say thy cup's composed of sweet and sour; They say thy diet 's honey mix'd with gall; How comes it then to pass, these lips of ours Still trade in bitter, taste no sweet at all? O tyrant love! shall our perpetual toil Ne'er find a sabbath to refresh awhile Our drooping souls? art thou all frowns, and ne'er a smile?

2 Ye blessed maids of honour, that frequent
The royal courts of our renown'd Jehove,
With flowers restore my spirits faint and spent;
Oh fetch me apples from love's fruitful grove,
To cool my palate, and renew my scent,
For I am sick, for I am sick of love:

These will revive my dry, my wasted powers, And they will sweeten my unsav'ry hours; Refresh me then with fruit, and comfort me with flowers.

3 Oh bring me apples to assuage that fire,

Which, Etna-like, inflames my flaming breast; Nor is it ev'ry apple I desire,

Nor that which pleases ev'ry palate best: 'Tis not the lasting deuzan I require:

Nor yet the red-cheek'd queening I request:

Nor that which first beshrew'd the name of wife, Nor that whose beauty caused the golden strife; No, no, bring me an apple from the tree of life.

4 Virgins, tuck up your silken laps, and fill ye
With the fair wealth of Flora's magazine:
The purple violet, and the pale-faced lily;

The pansy and the organ columbine;
The flow'ring thyme, the gilt bowl daffodilly;
The lowly pink, the lofty eglantine;

The blushing rose, the queen of flowers, and best
Of Flora's beauty; but above the rest,

Let Jesse's sov'reign flow'r perfume my qualming breast.

5 Haste, virgins, haste, for I lie weak and faint
Beneath the pangs of love; why stand ye mute,
As if your silence neither cared to grant,
Nor yet your language to deny my suit?
No key can lock the door of my complaint,
Until I smell this flower, or taste that fruit.

Go, virgins, seek this tree, and search that bower;
O how my soul shall bless that happy hour,
That brings to me such fruit, that brings me such a

flower!

Y

O happy sickness, where the infirmity is not to death, but to life, that GOD may be glorified by it! O happy fever, that proceedeth not from a consuming, but a calcining fire! O happy distemper, wherein the soul relisheth no earthly things, but only savoureth Divine nourishment !-GISTEN. in Cap. ii. Cant. Expos. 3.

By flowers understand faith; by fruit, good works. As the flower or blossom is before the fruit, so is faith before good works : so neither is the fruit without the flower, nor good works without faith.-S. BERN. Serm. li. in Cant.

EPIG. 2.

Why apples, O my soul? can they remove
The pains of grief, or ease the flames of love?
It was that fruit which gave the first offence;
That sent him hither; that removed him hence.

No. III.

Illustration-Christ and the Spouse sitting crowned amidst lilies and sheep. My beloved is mine, and I am his; he feedeth among the lilies.-CANTICLES ii. 16.

1 E'EN like two little bank-dividing brooks,

That wash the pebbles with their wanton streams, And having ranged and search'd a thousand nooks, Meet both at length in silver-breasted Thames, Wherein a greater current they conjoin: So I my best beloved 's am; so he is mine.

2 E'en so we met; and after long pursuit,
E'en so we join'd, we both became entire;
No need for either to renew a suit,

For I was flax, and he was flames of fire.
Our firm united souls did more than twine;
So I my best beloved's am; so he is mine.