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At length I rofe from off my bed,
My drowsy bed of floth,
My folemn marriage-oath.
And fweetly dropt with oil and myrrh
Verse 6. I opened to my Beloved, but my Beloved bad withdrawn bimfelf, and was gone: my beart failed when be Spake. I fought him, but I could not find bim; I called bim, but he gave me no answer. I op'ned ftraight to my Belov'd,
Expecting his embrace;
But, ah! from thence he had remov'd,
Mine aking heart did not collect
With great perplexity I fought,
Verfe 7. The watchmen that went about the city found me, they fmote me, they wounded me the keepers of the wall took away my vail from me.
When I, in private means, with care
Kind paftors formerly condol'd
My cafe with fympathy;
But now I met with fuch as rul'd
With force and cruelty †.
Untender watchmen, on their rounds,
In open flreets, me got,
Afflicted me with many wounds,
And without mercy fmote.
They hurt my name, my head, my crown,
My fair profeffion they defam'd,
A ftrolling harlot I was nam'd,
Verfe 8. I charge you, O daughters of Jerufalem, if ye find my Beloved, that ye tell him that I am fick of love.
O Salem's race, when watchmen wound,
Won't ye more favour show? What pity can't with them be found, May I expect with you?
I want my foul's beloved One;
None elfe can give me ease:
I'm fick of love; Oh! is there none
His abfence from my foul is death;
I charge you, with my dying breath,
The COMPANIONS Words.
What is thy Beloved more than another be
loved, O thou fairest among women! What is thy Beloved more than another beloved, that thou doft fo
+ Ezek. xxxiv. 4.
Fair lover, thou who dofl to us
Thy moaning speech direct,
Whofe fhining beauteous carriage thus
The object does thy love engage,
We judge by viewing thee,
What's thy Belov'd? pray let us know,
And giv'ft fuch folemn charge, as though
Thou faireft beauty, can't thou fee
The CHURCH's Words.
Verfe 10. My Beloved is white and ruddy, the chiefeft* among ten thousands.
If why I love my Jefus fo,
The wond'ring world enquire,
O there is no Belov'd like mine!
Was he not red but only white,
He might fuffice the angels fight;
Was he not white but only red,
A fuffrer for his fin,
His blood would reft upon his head,
Nor could I joy therein.
But here's my joy and confidence,
Both mix'd I fee by faith; The whitenefs of his innocence,
The redness of his death.
Since for my fin he bore difgrace,
The Chief of chiefs beyond compare,
To him the heav'ns their homage bring,
The root of Jeffe's rod;
Nor fpeak the greatnefs of the man,
The grandeur of the God.
Verse 11. His head is as the most fine gold, bis locks * are bufhy and black as a raven.
His head which once was crown'd with thorns,
And where all wifdom dwells,
A crown of glory bright adorns,
So firm, fo bright, fo eminent,
Is his extenfive government,
Black as a rav'n's his curled hair
And bushy locks; a mark,
Verse 12. His eyes are as the eyes of doves by the rivers of waters, washed with milk, and * fitly set. His dove-like eyes moft bright appear,
Like thefe the brooks have wet;
Or milky ftreams have moist'ned clear,
These fparkling eyes with piercing fight
Behold, both loftinefs and love
In his omnifcient eye;
The eagle temper'd with the dove,
With meeknefs, majefty.
Ver. 13. His cheeks are as a bed of spices, as † Sweet flowers; his lips like lilies dropping fweet-fmelling myrrb.
His rofy cheeks a bed of flow'rs
These very cheeks he once refign'd
His lips, refembling lily blooms,
The balmy drops his lips afford
Give life to fons of death:
The vital favour of his word
Reftores expiring breath.
*Heb. Setting in fulness; that is, Fitly placed, and fet as a, pre
cious fione in the foil of a ring.
+ Or, towers of perfume.