A paraphrase vpon the Song of Solomon by G. S.

A PARAPHRASE VPON THE SONG OF SOLOMON.

BY G. S.

Cum Privilegio Regiae Majeſtatis.

LONDON, Printed by Iohn Legatt. 1641.

To the King. SIR,

I Preſume to invite you to theſe ſacred Nuptials: the Epithalamium ſung by a crowned Muſe. Never was there Paire of ſo divine a Beautie, nor united in ſuch harmonious Affections: and infinitely he deſerved her love; redeemed at ſo dear a Price, and inricht with ſo invaluable a Dowry.

SIR, Let me finde your Pardon for thus long continuing to make my Allay currant by the impreſsion of your Name. Directed by your propitious Aſpect, have I ſafely ſteered between ſo many Rocks; and now, arrived at my laſt Harbor, have broken up my ruinous Veſſell.

The humbleſt of your Majeſties Servants George Sandys.

Imprimatur

Tho. Wykes. March 31. 1641.

A PARAPHRASE VPON THE SONG OF SOLOMON.

Cant. I. SPONSA. IOyn thy life breathing lips to mine; Thy love excels the joy of Wine: Thy Odors, ô how redolent! Attract me with their pleaſing ſent; Theſe ſweetly flowing from thy Name, Our Virgins with deſire inflame. O draw me, my Belov'd, and we With winged feet will follow thee. Thy longing Spouſe at length, great King, To thy prepared Chamber bring: Then ſhall our Souls, intranſt with joy, In thy due praiſe their Zeal imploy; Thy celebrated loves recite, Which more then crowned cups delight. Who Truth and ſacred Iuſtice priſe, To thee their hearts ſhall Sacrifice. You Daughters of Ieruſalem, You Branches of that holy Stem, Though black, in favour I excell: Black as the Tents of Iſmael; Yet gracefull, as the burniſht Throne, And Ornaments of Solomon. Deſpiſe not my diſcoloured look: This Tawney from the Sun I took. My Mothers Sons envy'd my worth, And ſwoln with malice, thruſt me forth To Keep their Vines in heat of Day, While, ah, my own neglected lay. More lov'd then all of humane Seed, O tell me where thy Sheep do feed; Where reſt they, in what gratefull ſhade, When ſcorching Beames the fields invade! Why ſhould I ſtray, and turn to thoſe Who are but thy diſguiſed Foes? SPONSVS. O thou the faireſt of thy kind! I will inform thy troubled Mind. Follow the way my Flock had led, And in their ſteps ſecurely tread; Thy Kids feed on the fruitfull plains, Beſides the Sheep-coates of our Swains. Thou love art like thoſe generous Steeds Which Pharo for his Chariot breeds, Trickt in their rich Capariſons. How ſhine thy Cheeks with ſparkling Stones, Which looſely dangle from thine eares! Thy Neck the Oceans Treaſure weares. I will a golden Zone impart, Enameled with curious Art. SPONSA. WHile he the Prince of Bountie feaſts, And entertains his happie Gueſts; My Spiknard ſhall perfume his haire, Whoſe Odor fils the ambient aire. All Night his ſacred Head ſhall reſt Between the Pillows of my Breſt. Not Myrrh, new bleeding from the tree, So acceptable is to me: Nor Camphire Cluſters when they blow, Which in Engedies Vineyard grow. SPONSUS. Thy Beautie, Love, allures my ſight, And Sheds a Firmament of Light. In either Eye there ſits a Dove; So mild, ſo full of Artleſſe Love! SPONSA. Thou, my Belov'd art fairer far; Thou as the Sun, I but a Star. Come, my Delight, our pregnant Bed Is with green buds and violets ſpred: Our Cedar Roofs are richly gilt, Our Galleryes of Cyprus built.

Cant. II. SPONSUS. I Am the Lilly of the Vale, The Roſe of Sharons fragrant Dale: Lo, as th'unſullyed Lilly ſhows Which in a Brake of Brambles grows; My Love ſo darkens all that are By erring men admir'd for faire. SPONSA. Lo, as the Tree which Citrons bears Amidſt the barren ſhrubs appears: So my Belov'd excells the Race Of Man in every winning Grace. In his deſired Shade I reſt, And with his Fruits my Pallate feaſt: He brought me to his Magazines, Repleniſht with refreſhing wines: And over me, a tender Maid, The Enſignes of his love diſplay'd. With Flagons ô receive my Powers, And ſtrew my Bed with Fruits and Flowres, Whoſe taſte and ſmell may cordiall prove, For, ah, my Soul is ſick with Love: Beneath my head thy left Arme place, And gently with thy Right embrace. SPONSUS. You Daughters of Ieruſalem, You Branches of that Holy Stem, I, by the mountain Roes, and by The Harts which through the Forreſt fly, Adjure you that you ſilence keep, Nor, till ſhe call, diſturbe her ſleep. SPONSA. Is it a Dreame! or do I heare, The Voice that ſo delights mine Eare! Lo, he o're Hils his ſteps extends, And bounding from the Cliffs deſcends; Now like a Roe, out-ſtrips the wind, And leaves the breathed Hart behind. Behold! without my Deareſt ſtayes, And through the lattice darts his Rayes. Thus, as his looks, his words invite: O thou the Crown of my Delight, Ariſe my Love, my Faire One, riſe, O Come, delay our Ioy envyes. Lo, the ſharp Winter now is gone, The threatning Tempeſts over-blown; Harke, how the Aires Muſicians ſing, And carrol to the floury Spring, Chaſt Turtles, hous'd in ſhady Groves, Now murmur to their faithfull Loves: Green Figs on ſprouting trees appear, And Vines ſweet ſmelling Bloſomes bear. Ariſe my Love, my Faire one Riſe, O Come! delay our Ioy envies. O thou my Dove, whom Terror locks Within the Cranies of the Rocks; Come forth, now like thy ſelf appear, And with thy Voice delight mine Eare: Thy Voice in Muſick, and thy Face All conquers with reſiſtleſſe Grace. My lov'd Companions, for my ſake, Theſe Foxes, theſe young Foxes take: Who thus our tender Grapes deſtroy, And in their proſperous Rapine joy. I am my Loves, and He is mine; So mutually our Souls combine! He, whoſe affection words exceeds, His Flock among the Lillies feeds. Return to me my onely Dear; Stay till the Morning Star appear; Stay till Nights duskie ſhadows fly Before the Dayes illuſtrious Eye. Run like a Roe, or Hart, upon The loftie Hils of Bitheron.

Cant. III. SPONSA. STretcht on my Reſtleſſe Bed, all night I vainly ſought my Souls Delight; Then roſe, the Citie ſearcht: No Street, No Angle my unwearyed Feet Vntraced left: Yet could not find The Onely ſolace of my Mind. When Lo, the Watch who walk the Round, Me in my Souls diſtemper found: Of whom, with paſsion, I enquir'd; Saw you the Man ſo much deſir'd? Nor many ſteps had farther paſt, But found my Love, and held him faſt: Faſt held, till I the ſo long ſought Had to my Mothers Manſion brought. In that adorned Chamber laid, Of her, who gave me life, I ſaid: You Daughters of Ieruſalem, You Branches of that holy Stem, I, by the Mountain Roes, and by The Hinds, which through the Forreſt fly; Adjure you that you ſilence keep, Nor, till he call, diſturb his ſleep. CHORUS. What Beautie from the Deſert comes, Like Spires of Smoak rais'd from ſweet gums! With Aromaticke Powders fraught, By Merchants from Sabaea brought. SPONSA. Behold the Bed he reſts upon, The Royall Bed of Solomon: Twice thirtie Souldiers, who excell In Valor, Sons of Iſrael, So dreadfull to their Enemies, Their bright Swords mounted on their thighs, His Perſon guard from the affright, And Treaſons of concealing Night. King Solomon a Chariot made, Of Trees from Lebanon convay'd: The Pillars Silver, and the Throne With Gold of Indian Ophir ſhone: With Tyrian Purple ceil'd above, For Sions Daughters pav'd with Love. Come Holy Virgins, O come forth, Behold a Spectacle of worth! Behold the Royall Solomon, High mounted on his Fathers Throne, Crown'd with the Crown his mother plac'd On his ſmooth Brows, with Iems enchac'd, At that ſolemniz'd Nuptiall Feaſt, When Ioy his raviſh't Soul poſſeſt.

Cant. IV. SPONSUS. HOw faire art thou, how wondrous faire! Thy Dove like Eyes in ſhades of Haire; Whoſe dangling Curles appear like flocks Of Climing Goats from Gileads Rocks: Thy Teeth like Sheep in their return From Chiſon, waſht, and ſmoothly ſhorn, None markt for barren, none of all But equall Twins at once let fall. Thy Lips like threds of ſcarlet ſhow, Whence gracefull accents ſweetly flow: Thy Cheeks like Punicke Apples are, Which bluſh beneath thy flowing haire: Thy Neck like Davids Armory, With Poliſht Marble rais'd on high; Whoſe walls a thouſand Shields adorn, By Worthies oft in Battell born: Thy Breaſts are Twins, Twins of the Roe; There grazing where the Lillies grow. I to the Mountains will retire, Where bleeding Trees perfumes expire: Vntill the Morning fleck the sky, And Nights repulſed Shadows fly. How beautifull thy looks appear! In every part from blemiſh clear! My Spouſe, at length let us be gone; Leave we the fragrant Lebanon: Look down from Amana, Look down From Sheners top and Hermons Crown: From Hils where dreadfull Lions rave, And from the Mountain Leopards Cave. Thou who my Spouſe and Siſter art; How haſt thou raviſhed my heart! Struck with one glance of thy bright Eyes! One Haire of thine in Fetters tyes! Thy Beautie, Siſter, is divine, Thy love, my Spouſe, more ſtrong then wine. Thy Odors, far more redolent Then Spices from Panchaia ſent: Thy Lips drop Honey, from below Thy Pallate Milke and Honey flow. Thy Robes a ſweeter Odor caſt, Then Lebanon with Cedars grac't. My Love, by mutuall vows aſſur'd, A Garden is with ſtrength immur'd: A Chriſtall Fountain, a cleare Spring, Shut up and ſealed with my Ring: An Orchard ſtor'd with pleaſant Fruits; Pomgranet Trees, there ſpread their roots, Where ſweetly ſmelling Camphire blows, And never dying Spiknard grows; Sweet Spiknard, Crocus newly blown, Sweet Calamus and Cinamon: Thoſe Trees which ſacred Incenſe ſhed, The Teares of Myrrh, and Aloes bled From bitter wounds; with all the rare Productions which perfume the Aire. SPONSA. Thoſe living Springs from thee proceed, Whoſe Drils our plants with moiſture feed: Like Chriſtall Streams which iſſue from The Fountain-fruitfull Lebanon. You cooler Winds breath from the North, You dropping Southern Gales break forth; On this our Garden gently blow, And through the Land rich Odors throw. Come Love, Come with a Lovers haſt, Our riper fruits and ſpices taſt.

Cant. V. SPONSUS. MY Spouſe, my Siſter, thou who art The Ioy and Treaſure of my heart: I to my Garden have retir'd, Reapt ſpices which perfumes expir'd; Sweet Gums from trees profuſely ſhed, On dropping Combs of Honey fed; Drunk Morning Milk, with new preſt Wine: O Friends, whom like deſires combine; Eate, drink, drink freely: nor remove Till you be all inflam'd with Love. SPONSA. Although I ſleep my Paſsions wake, For he who knockt, thus ſadly ſpake: My Love, my Siſter, thou more mild Then galleſſe Doves, my undefil'd, O let me enter! Night hath ſhed Her Dew on my uncovered Head; Which from my drenched Locks diſtils, And with a frozen numneſſe chils. Can I aſſent to thy requeſt, Diſrob'd and newly laid to reſt? Shall I now cloath my ſelf again? And feet ſo lately waſht, diſtain? But when I had his hand diſcern'd, Drawn from the latch, my bowels yern'd. I roſe, no longer could defer To unlock the Door; when liquid Myrrh, Thence dropping, on my finger fell, And breath'd an odoriferous ſmell. But ah, when opened he was gone: His grief fetcht from my heart a groane. In vain I ſought my Souls Belov'd; I call'd him, ô too far remov'd! The Watch and thoſe who walk the Round, In this purſuit the Afflicted found: Smot, wounded, and prophanely tore The Sable Veile my Sorrow wore. You Virgins of faire Solyma, I charge you, if you meet him, ſay, That I his Spouſe am ſick for Love, And with your teares ſoft pitty move. CHORUS. O thou of all our Sex moſt faire, Can none with thy belov'd compare! Doth he ſo much our Loves tranſcend That we alone ſhould him intend! SPONSA. Lo! in his face the bluſhing Roſe, Ioyn'd with the Virgin Lilly, grows: Among a Myriad he appears The Chief, and Beauties Enſign bears. His head adorn'd with burniſht gold, Which Curls of ſhining haire infold, Black as the newly pruned Crow: His Eyes like Doves by Fountains ſhow, Late bathed in a Rivolet Of Milk, alike exactly ſet: His Cheeks, ſweet Spice, and flowres confer, His Lips, like Roſes dropping Myrrh. His Hand, the wondering Eye invites, Like Rings that blaze with Chryſolites: His Belly, polliſht Ivory, Where Saphires in blew branches lie: His Legs, like Marble pillars, plac'd On Baſes with pure gold inchac'd: His Looks, like Cedars planted on The Brows of loftie Lebanon: His Tongue, the Eare with Muſick feeds: And he in every part exceeds. You Daughters of Ieruſalem, Such is my Friend, my praiſes Theam.

Cant. VI. CHORUS. FAire Virgin, paralel'd by none, O whither's thy Beloved gone! Direct our forward Zeal, that we May joyn in this purſuit with thee. SPONSA. Behold, the more then life deſir'd Down to his Garden is retir'd: There gathers Flowers, Feaſts in the Shade, On Beds of bruiſed Spices laid. Our mutuall flame all flames exceeds: My Dear among the Lillies feeds. SPONSUS. Not Regall Terza, Iſraels Delight, thy Beautie, Love, excels: Not thou, Divine Ieruſalem, That art of all the World the Iem: Nor Armies with their Enſigns ſpread, So threaten with amazing Dread. O turn from me thy wounding Eyes! In every glance an Arrow flyes! Thy dangling Haire appears like flocks Of climing Goats from Gileads Rocks: Thy Teeth, like Sheep in their Return From Chiſon, waſht and ſmoothly ſhorn; None markt for barren, none of all But equall Twins at once let fall: Thy Cheeks like Punick Apples are, Which bluſh beneath thy flowing Haire. They boaſt of many Queens, great ſtore Of Concubines, and Virgins more Then can be told: my Vndefill'd Is all in one; the onely Child Of her faire Mother: and brought forth To ſhew the World an unknown Worth. Queens, Virgins, Concubines, beheld, Admir'd, and bleſt th' Vnparalel'd. CHORUS. Who's this, who like the Morning ſhews, When ſhe her Paths with Roſes ſtrews! More faire then the repleniſht Moon, More Radiant then the Sun at Noon: Not Armies with their Enſigns ſpread, So threaten with amazing dread. SPONSUS. I to my pleaſant Gardens went, Where Nutmegs breath a fragrant ſent, To ſee the generous fruits which grac'd The pregnant vale, with ſprings inchac'd: To ſee the Vines diſcloſe their Iems, And Granets blooming on their Stems. Then unaware, and half amaz'd, Me thought my raviſht Soul was rais'd Vp to a Chariot, ſwift as winds, Drawn by my Peoples willing Minds. CHORUS. Return faire Shulamite, return To us, who for thy abſence mourn. What ſee you in the Shulamite! Two Armies prevalent in fight.

Cant. VII. SPONSUS. O Princeſſe, thou then life more dear, How beautifull thy feet appear; When they, with purple ribands bound, In golden Sandals print the ground! Thy Ioynts, like Iewels, which impart To wondring Eyes the Workmans Art: Thy Navell, like a Mazer, fill'd With Iuyce from rareſt fruits diſtill'd: Thy Belly, like a heap of wheat, With never fading Lillies ſet: Thy Breaſts two Roes, new weaned, ſhow, Which fell at once from one faire Doe: Thy Neck, an Ivory Tower diſplayes: Thine Eyes, which ſhine with equall Raies, Like Heſhbons Pooles by Bathrabim, Where ſilver-ſcaled fiſhes ſwim: Thy Noſe, preſents that Tower upon The face of flowry Lebanon; Which all the pleaſant plain ſurvays, Where Abana her ſtreames diſplays: Thy Head, like Carmel, cloth'd with ſhade; Whoſe Treſſes Tyrian fillets brai'd. The King, from Cypreſſe Galleryes, This Chaine of ſtrong Affection tyes. How pleaſant! O how exquiſite! Thy Beautie fram'd for ſweet delight! Thy Stature, like an upright Palme: Thy Breaſts, like Cluſters dropping Balme. I will aſcend the Palmes high Crown, Whoſe Boughes Victorious Hands renown, And from the ſpreading Branches Root, Will gather her delitious fruit. Thy Breaſts ſhall like ripe Cluſters ſwell, Thy Breath like new pull'd Citrons ſmell: Choice wines ſhall from thy Palate ſpring, Moſt acceptable to the King: Which ſweetly ſhall deſcend, and make The Dumb to ſpeak, the Dead to wake. SPONSA. I, my Belov'd, am onely thine, And thou by juſt exchange art mine; Come, let us tread the pleaſant fields, Taſt we what fruit the Country yields, And in the Villages repoſe When ſhades of Night all Formes incloſe. Then with the early Morn repaire To our new Vineyard; ſee if there The tender Vines thruſt forth their Gems, And Granets bloſſom on their Stems. There, where no froſts our Spring deſtroy, Shalt thou alone my Love enjoy▪ How ſweet a ſmell our Mandrakes yield! Our Gates with various fruits are fill'd: Fruits that are old, fruits from the tree New gathered, all preſerv'd for thee.

Cant. VIII. SPONSA. O Had we from one Mother ſprung! Both at her Breaſts together hung! Then ſhould I meet thee in the Street, With unreproved kiſſes greet: And to my Mothers houſe conduct, Where thou thy Siſter ſhouldſt inſtruct: There would I ſpiced Wines produce, And my Pomegranets purple Iuice; Thy left Arme for my Pillow plac'd, And ſtricktly with thy right embrac'd. You Virgins, born in Sions Towers, I charge you by the chief of Powers, That you a conſtant ſilence keep, Nor till he call, diſturb his ſleep. CHORUS. Who's this, whoſe feet the Hils aſcend From Deſerts, leaning on her Friend! SPONSA. I, my Belov'd firſt raiſed thee From under the Pomecitron tree: Thy carefull Mother, in that Shade, With anguiſh, her faire Belly laid. Be I, ô thou my better Part, A Seale impreſt upon thy Heart: May I thy Fingers Signet prove, For Death is not more ſtrong then Love: The Grave not ſo inſatiate, As Iealouſies enflame debate. Should falling Clouds with Flouds conſpire, Their waters could not quench Loves fire: Nor all in Natures Treaſury, The Freedome of Affection buy. We have a Siſter immature, That hath no Breaſts, as yet obſcure, What Ornaments ſhall we beſtow, When Mortalls her Endowments know? SPONSUS. On her, if ſtrongly built to beare, We will a Silver Palace reare; Or, if a Doore, to deck the ſame, Will Leaves of carved Cedar frame. SPONSA. I am a firm Foundation For my Belov'd to build upon; My Breaſts are Towers: I, his Delight, His object and ſole Favorite. SPONSUS. Late in Baal-Hamon Solomon Let forth his Vineyard: every one For Fruits and Wines there yeerely made, A Thouſand ſilver Sheckles payd. SPONSA. This Vineyard, this which I poſſeſſe, With diligence I daily dreſſe. Thou Solomon ſhalt have thy due: Two hundred more remain for you, (Out of the ſurplus of our gains) Who in our Vineyard took ſuch pains. SPONSUS. O thou that in the Gardens liv'ſt, And life infuſing counſel giv'ſt▪ To thoſe that in thy Songs rejoyce, To me addreſſe thy cheerfull Voice. SPONSA· Come my Belov'd, ô come away! Love is impatient of Delay: Run, like a youthfull Hart, or Roe, On Hils where precious Spices grow. FINIS.