Classic Poem

PART II.

O daughters of Jerusalem,
(Fair offspring of a noble stem)
Tho, I confess, my skin is brown,
My comely features you must own:
I'm black as tents of Kedar are;
As Solomon's curtains bright and fair.
O do not with censorious eyes
Survey my face, and then despise:
The sun has view'd me many days,
And scorch'd my beauty with his rays.
My mother's sons against me fir'd
With an uncomely rage, conspir'd
To make me keep and dress their Vines,
Thro winter-storms and summer-shines;
While that lov'd vineyard of my own
With weeds and thorns is all o'ergrown.
Dear object of my soul's desire!
O tell me whither dost retire
With thy lov'd flock, thy joy and care?
Where dost thou feed 'em? tell me where
Where giv'st 'em soft repose at noon?
For why should I, as some have done,
To other pastures turn aside,
Where thy companions flocks abide?

The Bridegroom .

Fair one, who hast more charms ingrost
Than all thy sex beside can boast!
I'll be thy guide, if thou wouldst know
How to my fields and folds to go.
The footsteps of my flock you see:
Follow them, as they follow me:
Beside those shepherds tents repair;
There feed thy kids, and fold 'em there.

PART III.

Thy steps and port so graceful are,
Thee, O my love, I may compare
To a fair set of goodly steeds
Of that fam'd race which Egypt breeds,
To Pharaoh's pompous chariot ty'd,
When he in solemn state does ride.
Thy cheeks with rows of jewels shine;
(Jewels become such cheeks as thine)
And chains of gold, fit to be worn
On royal necks, do thine adorn.
We'll golden borders for thy sake,
Pouder'd with studs of silver, make.

The B RIDE .

While the glad king at table sits
Among his welcome favourites,
My spikenard shall the board perfume,
And breathe its sweets all round the room.
A heap of myrrh, for fragrancy,
Is my beloved Lord to me:
Him in my arms I will embrace,
My bosom make his resting place.
My dearest love appears to me
A cluster from the camphire-tree,
Whose odorous gum in drops distill'd,
Engedi's fertile vineyards yield.

The Bridegroom .

How fair, my love, how wondrous fair
Art thou, beyond what others are!
Thy eyes, that flame with spotless loves,
Are chast and bright, like those of doves.

The B RIDE .

How fair art thou! my only dear,
How amiable dost thou appear!
Come let us here securely rest,
Our Bed with pleasant greens is drest;
And all we have delightful seems:
Our house is built with cedar beams;
The galleries, contriv'd to be
For spacious walks, with brutine-tree.