A paraphrase vpon the Song of Solomon by G. S. Sandys, George, 1578-1644. This text is an enriched version of the TCP digital transcription A27982 of text R18355 in the English Short Title Catalog (Wing B2629A). Textual changes and metadata enrichments aim at making the text more computationally tractable, easier to read, and suitable for network-based collaborative curation by amateur and professional end users from many walks of life. The text has been tokenized and linguistically annotated with MorphAdorner. The annotation includes standard spellings that support the display of a text in a standardized format that preserves archaic forms ('loveth', 'seekest'). Textual changes aim at restoring the text the author or stationer meant to publish. This text has not been fully proofread Approx. 25 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 19 1-bit group-IV TIFF page images. EarlyPrint Project Evanston,IL, Notre Dame, IN, St. Louis, MO 2017 A27982 Wing B2629A ESTC R18355 13413546 ocm 13413546 99432 This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Early English Books Online Text Creation Partnership. This Phase I text is available for reuse, according to the terms of Creative Commons 0 1.0 Universal . The text can be copied, modified, distributed and performed, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission. Early English books online. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. A27982) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 99432) Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books, 1641-1700 ; 835:31) A paraphrase vpon the Song of Solomon by G. S. Sandys, George, 1578-1644. [4], 32 p. Printed for Iohn Legatt, London : 1641. "To the King" signed: George Sandys. "Cum privilegio Regiae Majestatis." Reproduction of original in Union Theological Seminary Library, New York. eng Bible. -- O.T. -- Song of Solomon -- Paraphrases, English. A27982 R18355 (Wing B2629A). civilwar no A paraphrase vpon the Song of Solomon. By G.S. Cum privilegio Regiæ Majestatis. [no entry] 1641 3885 2 0 0 0 0 0 5 B The rate of 5 defects per 10,000 words puts this text in the B category of texts with fewer than 10 defects per 10,000 words. 2005-06 TCP Assigned for keying and markup 2005-08 SPi Global Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2006-01 Jonathan Blaney Sampled and proofread 2006-01 Jonathan Blaney Text and markup reviewed and edited 2006-04 pfs Batch review (QC) and XML conversion 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 .