Classic Poem

PART III.

My sister and my lovely bride,
(To me by many ties ally'd)
Is like a garden round inclos'd,
Not, as the common field, expos'd:
A spring shut up, a fountain seal'd,
And ne'er to vulgar eyes reveal'd.
Thy plants, all set in decent rows,
A fruitful paradise compose:
There trees, with fair pomegranates crown'd,
And all delicious fruits abound:
There camphire drops, and spikenard grows,
With spikenard fragrant saffron blows:
Sweet cane, and cinnamon are there,
With aloes, frankincense, and myrrh:
And all choice spices there are found,
Which fill the air with odors round.
From thee the gardens all derive
The streams that keep their plants alive;
From thee their spring and sacred well,
Whose living waters all excel:
From Lebanon these waters flow,
And bless with fruit the vale below.
Awake, O north-wind, and at last
Give thou, O south, a warmer blast;
Upon my garden kindly blow,
That all sweet spices there may flow.

The Bride .

To's garden let my love repair,
Pluck his rare fruits, and eat 'em there.