CHAP. VI
(Virgins.)
But where, ah where can this bright wonder be?
For, till we see Him, we are all on Fire;
We'll find Him out, or in the search Expire.
(Bride.)
If my Prophetick Hopes can rightly guess,
The Lovely Wanderer in his GARDEN is
Among the Lillies, and the Spices; He
Is now perhaps kindly expecting Me;
Oh 'tis a Heaven of Joy to think him Mine.
(Bridegroom.)
And who can see those Eyes and not be thine?
Thy Face, where all the Conquering Graces meet;
Where Majesty doth Virgin-softness greet:
Ah turn away those Fair Approachless Eyes;
I Love, but cannot bear the kind Surprize.
Hide, hide the intangling glories of thy Hair;
More bright than Streams of Fluid Silver are:
Expose no more thy Pearly Teeth, the while
Those Rosie Cheeks put on kind looks and smile:
Such genuine charmes, how strongly they allure
My Soul, and all their rivalls beams obscure.
They'r numberless, my Spouse, my Darling Fair;
But one, the Choice, and all her Mother bare.
The Royal Beauties saw, and blest the Sight;
And Setting, wonder'd at a Star so Bright.
Who is't, they say, Fair as the breaking Morn,
When ruddy beams the bashful Skys adorn?
Clear as the Lamp that Gilds the Sable Night,
Dazling as Sols unsufferable Light:
Gentle, but awfull, as a Scene of War;
At once her Graces conquer and Indear.
And could'st thou think, my Love, I e're design'd
To leave a Spouse so Beautiful and Kind?
I went but down into the Almond-grove,
A Lone-recess, indulgent to my Love;
Thence rang'd the pleasant Vale, whose Spreading Vine
May quit my care perhaps with Bounteous Wine:
Where the Pomgranets Blooming-Fruits display
More Sanguine-Colours then the Wings of Day:
Or e're I was aware, my happy Eyes
Met Thee, a Juster Object of surprize;
Fair as a Vision breaking from the Skyes:
Scarce could my Breast my leaping heart retain;
Scarce could my Soul the unweildy Joy sustain,
When I beheld those Wellcome Eyes again.
But why that Discontent upon thy Brow?
Thou wilt not leave me, Cruel Beauty, now!
Injurious Charmer, stay — What needs this Art,
To try the Faith of a Too-constant heart:
Return again; let my Companions see
The Sweet Inspirer of my Flames in Thee.
Return, my Dear, return, and shew the most
Victorious Face that e're the World could boast.
(Virgins.)
But where, ah where can this bright wonder be?
For, till we see Him, we are all on Fire;
We'll find Him out, or in the search Expire.
(Bride.)
If my Prophetick Hopes can rightly guess,
The Lovely Wanderer in his GARDEN is
Among the Lillies, and the Spices; He
Is now perhaps kindly expecting Me;
Oh 'tis a Heaven of Joy to think him Mine.
(Bridegroom.)
And who can see those Eyes and not be thine?
Thy Face, where all the Conquering Graces meet;
Where Majesty doth Virgin-softness greet:
Ah turn away those Fair Approachless Eyes;
I Love, but cannot bear the kind Surprize.
Hide, hide the intangling glories of thy Hair;
More bright than Streams of Fluid Silver are:
Expose no more thy Pearly Teeth, the while
Those Rosie Cheeks put on kind looks and smile:
Such genuine charmes, how strongly they allure
My Soul, and all their rivalls beams obscure.
They'r numberless, my Spouse, my Darling Fair;
But one, the Choice, and all her Mother bare.
The Royal Beauties saw, and blest the Sight;
And Setting, wonder'd at a Star so Bright.
Who is't, they say, Fair as the breaking Morn,
When ruddy beams the bashful Skys adorn?
Clear as the Lamp that Gilds the Sable Night,
Dazling as Sols unsufferable Light:
Gentle, but awfull, as a Scene of War;
At once her Graces conquer and Indear.
And could'st thou think, my Love, I e're design'd
To leave a Spouse so Beautiful and Kind?
I went but down into the Almond-grove,
A Lone-recess, indulgent to my Love;
Thence rang'd the pleasant Vale, whose Spreading Vine
May quit my care perhaps with Bounteous Wine:
Where the Pomgranets Blooming-Fruits display
More Sanguine-Colours then the Wings of Day:
Or e're I was aware, my happy Eyes
Met Thee, a Juster Object of surprize;
Fair as a Vision breaking from the Skyes:
Scarce could my Breast my leaping heart retain;
Scarce could my Soul the unweildy Joy sustain,
When I beheld those Wellcome Eyes again.
But why that Discontent upon thy Brow?
Thou wilt not leave me, Cruel Beauty, now!
Injurious Charmer, stay — What needs this Art,
To try the Faith of a Too-constant heart:
Return again; let my Companions see
The Sweet Inspirer of my Flames in Thee.
Return, my Dear, return, and shew the most
Victorious Face that e're the World could boast.