The canticles or song of Solomon, reduced into a decasyllable together with the song of Moses in meeter / by R.K.
         R. K.
      
       
         
           1662
        
      
       Approx. 43 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 16 1-bit group-IV TIFF page images.
       
         Text Creation Partnership,
         Ann Arbor, MI ; Oxford (UK) :
         2007-01 (EEBO-TCP Phase 1).
         A27984
         Wing B2630
         ESTC R17703
         12109824
         ocm 12109824
         54175
         
           
            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. A27984)
         Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 54175)
         Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books, 1641-1700 ; 859:11)
      
       
         
           
             The canticles or song of Solomon, reduced into a decasyllable together with the song of Moses in meeter / by R.K.
             R. K.
          
           [6], 24, [1] p.
           
             s.n.],
             [London :
             1662.
          
           
             Reproduction of original in Huntington Library.
          
        
      
    
     
       
         Created by converting TCP files to TEI P5 using tcp2tei.xsl, TEI @ Oxford.
         Re-processed by University of Nebraska-Lincoln and Northwestern, with changes to facilitate morpho-syntactic tagging. Gap elements of known extent have been transformed into placeholder characters or elements to simplify the filling in of gaps by user contributors.
      
       
         EEBO-TCP is a partnership between the Universities of Michigan and Oxford and the publisher ProQuest to create accurately transcribed and encoded texts based on the image sets published by ProQuest via their Early English Books Online (EEBO) database (http://eebo.chadwyck.com). The general aim of EEBO-TCP is to encode one copy (usually the first edition) of every monographic English-language title published between 1473 and 1700 available in EEBO.
         EEBO-TCP aimed to produce large quantities of textual data within the usual project restraints of time and funding, and therefore chose to create diplomatic transcriptions (as opposed to critical editions) with light-touch, mainly structural encoding based on the Text Encoding Initiative (http://www.tei-c.org).
         The EEBO-TCP project was divided into two phases. The 25,363 texts created during Phase 1 of the project have been released into the public domain as of 1 January 2015. Anyone can now take and use these texts for their own purposes, but we respectfully request that due credit and attribution is given to their original source.
         Users should be aware of the process of creating the TCP texts, and therefore of any assumptions that can be made about the data.
         Text selection was based on the New Cambridge Bibliography of English Literature (NCBEL). If an author (or for an anonymous work, the title) appears in NCBEL, then their works are eligible for inclusion. Selection was intended to range over a wide variety of subject areas, to reflect the true nature of the print record of the period. In general, first editions of a works in English were prioritized, although there are a number of works in other languages, notably Latin and Welsh, included and sometimes a second or later edition of a work was chosen if there was a compelling reason to do so.
         Image sets were sent to external keying companies for transcription and basic encoding. Quality assurance was then carried out by editorial teams in Oxford and Michigan. 5% (or 5 pages, whichever is the greater) of each text was proofread for accuracy and those which did not meet QA standards were returned to the keyers to be redone. After proofreading, the encoding was enhanced and/or corrected and characters marked as illegible were corrected where possible up to a limit of 100 instances per text. Any remaining illegibles were encoded as <gap>s. Understanding these processes should make clear that, while the overall quality of TCP data is very good, some errors will remain and some readable characters will be marked as illegible. Users should bear in mind that in all likelihood such instances will never have been looked at by a TCP editor.
         The texts were encoded and linked to page images in accordance with level 4 of the TEI in Libraries guidelines.
         Copies of the texts have been issued variously as SGML (TCP schema; ASCII text with mnemonic sdata character entities); displayable XML (TCP schema; characters represented either as UTF-8 Unicode or text strings within braces); or lossless XML (TEI P5, characters represented either as UTF-8 Unicode or TEI g elements).
         
          Keying and markup guidelines are available at the
           Text Creation Partnership web site
          .
        
      
       
         
         
      
    
     
       
         eng
      
       
         
           Bible. -- O.T. -- Song of Solomon -- Paraphrases, English.
        
      
    
     
        2006-01 TCP
        Assigned for keying and markup
      
        2006-01 Aptara
        Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images
      
        2006-04 Judith Siefring
        Sampled and proofread
      
        2006-04 Judith Siefring
        Text and markup reviewed and edited
      
        2006-09 pfs
        Batch review (QC) and XML conversion
      
    
  
   
     
       
         
         
         
           THE
           CANTICLES
           ,
           OR
           SONG
           OF
           SOLOMON
           ,
           Reduced
           into
           a
           Decasyllable
           :
           Together
           ,
           with
           the
           Song
           of
           
             MOSES
             In
             Meeter
          
           .
        
         
           By
           R.
           K.
           
        
         
           Printed
           in
           the
           yeare
           1662.
           
        
      
       
         
         
         
           To
           the
           Right
           Honourable
           ,
           and
           my
           ever
           most
           Honoured
           Lady
           ,
           the
           Lady
           DIANA
           Countesse
           of
           HOLLAND
           .
        
         
           AS
           Providence
           ,
           Right
           Honourable
           ,
           made
           you
           Inheretrix
           of
           so
           Princelike
           a
           Mansion
           ,
           as
           few
           of
           your
           Sex
           have
           ever
           been
           superior
           therein
           ;
           so
           are
           you
           hardly
           to
           be
           parallel'd
           in
           those
           more
           estimable
           possessions
           treasur'd
           up
           in
           your
           mind
           ,
           being
           as
           well
           familiar
           with
           other
           Tougues
           ,
           as
           the
           owning
           Orator
           of
           that
           harmonious
           Lutetian
           Language
           ,
           in
           the
           voluble
           ,
           and
           elegant
           pronuntiation
           whereof
           so
           to
           be
           admired
           ,
           and
           in
           all
           other
           gifts
           and
           endowments
           both
           of
           body
           and
           mind
           so
           transcendent
           ,
           as
           if
           Urania
           seem'd
           onely
           in
           your
           person
           and
           presence
           to
           erect
           a
           second
           Parnassus
           for
           her
           learned
           sisters
           .
           But
           amongst
           your
           Honours
           matchlesse
           vertues
           ,
           that
           of
           your
           Modesty
           ,
           together
           with
           my
           owne
           insufficiency
           ,
           would
           disallow
           the
           expatiating
           in
           a
           Panegyricall
           addresse
           ;
           I
           shall
           therefore
           decline
           further
           prayses
           ,
           which
           not
           to
           seeme
           flatteries
           where
           you
           are
           not
           knowne
           ,
           would
           doubtlesse
           be
           thought
           detractions
           where
           you
           are
           .
           An
           obligation
           (
           most
           Honour'd
           Madam
           )
           under
           which
           a
           great
           and
           undeserved
           favour
           from
           your
           honour
           ,
           having
           brought
           mee
           long
           since
           ,
           (
           not
           only
           after
           my
           septennian
           travels
           ,
           and
           returne
           into
           the
           Land
           of
           my
           nativity
           )
           in
           then
           admitting
           mee
           a
           servant
           in
           your
           most
           Noble
           Family
           and
           
           House
           of
           Kinsington
           ,
           but
           also
           commending
           mee
           afterward
           as
           Secretary
           to
           King
           James
           (
           of
           Famous
           Memory
           )
           his
           Embassadour
           .
           And
           therefore
           being
           ignorant
           how
           I
           might
           give
           testimony
           of
           my
           bounden
           duty
           ,
           I
           took
           upon
           mee
           the
           boldnesse
           to
           devote
           these
           few
           lines
           ,
           onely
           to
           manifest
           I
           had
           a
           desire
           (
           though
           unable
           )
           to
           make
           expressions
           of
           a
           due
           engagement
           ,
           and
           so
           be
           delivered
           of
           that
           most
           pregnant
           conception
           of
           my
           devoted
           service
           ;
           not
           doubting
           but
           as
           the
           Persian
           Monarch
           kindly
           accepted
           the
           poore
           mans
           handfull
           of
           water
           ,
           so
           your
           Honour
           will
           likewise
           admit
           this
           mite
           into
           the
           treasury
           of
           your
           Noble
           acceptation
           .
           As
           it
           hath
           pleased
           our
           Gracious
           God
           to
           give
           you
           patience
           (
           that
           precious
           and
           powerfull
           Panoplie
           )
           in
           all
           troubles
           ,
           not
           onely
           in
           the
           most
           injurious
           deprivation
           of
           goods
           and
           lands
           ,
           but
           also
           in
           the
           Martyrdome
           of
           the
           nearest
           relation
           :
           so
           that
           there
           may
           be
           ,
           as
           with
           holy
           Job
           ,
           a
           double
           restitution
           ;
           as
           also
           that
           all
           the
           blessings
           on
           mount
           Gerizim
           in
           this
           life
           ,
           and
           in
           the
           next
           all
           the
           blessings
           that
           Christ
           preached
           on
           the
           Mount
           ,
           may
           be
           multiplyed
           in
           your
           Honourable
           Person
           and
           Posterity
           ,
           shall
           be
           the
           daily
           prayers
           of
        
         
           
             Your
             Honours
             most
             humbly
             devoted
             servant
             R.
             K.
             
          
        
      
       
         
         
           To
           the
           Reader
           .
        
         
           IF
           any
           wonder
           at
           my
           presumption
           in
           publishing
           these
           lines
           ,
           especially
           at
           such
           a
           time
           wherein
           so
           many
           learn'd
           productiōs
           are
           set
           forth
           ,
           and
           so
           little
           regarded
           :
           I
           wish
           them
           to
           understand
           that
           I
           was
           induced
           hereunto
           by
           some
           ,
           not
           of
           the
           meanest
           Quality
           ,
           either
           for
           Vertue
           or
           Learning
           :
           and
           though
           for
           many
           late
           yeares
           we
           have
           heard
           the
           voyce
           as
           of
           Haddarimmon
           in
           the
           vallye
           of
           Megiddo
           ,
           nothing
           but
           Lamentation
           and
           mourning
           in
           our
           Streets
           ,
           we
           now
           (
           blessed
           be
           God
           )
           have
           cause
           to
           celebrate
           our
           deliverance
           in
           Songs
           of
           thanksgiving
           .
           Wherefore
           I
           have
           reduc'd
           into
           this
           Form
           of
           a
           Decasyllable
           ,
           the
           Song
           of
           Solomon
           :
           The
           Subject
           as
           it
           proceeds
           from
           Royall
           (
           rather
           Divine
           )
           Authority
           ,
           so
           it
           is
           no
           less
           Musicall
           ,
           and
           therefore
           were
           it
           overmuch
           Boldness
           in
           me
           to
           deviate
           from
           the
           text
           :
           Wherefore
           so
           near
           as
           I
           could
           ,
           I
           confind
           my self
           to
           the
           words
           themselves
           ,
           as
           by
           a
           Comparative
           Perusall
           will
           appear
           .
           Else
           happily
           the
           Verse
           (
           as
           more
           delightfull
           to
           Curiosity
           )
           might
           have
           been
           invested
           in
           some
           Richer
           habit
           ,
           and
           so
           Marched
           out
           in
           a
           more
           Poeticall
           Posture
           then
           now
           it
           seemeth
           to
           do
           .
           How
           any
           shall
           value
           the
           ensuing
           Lines
           I
           am
           Ignorant
           ,
           though
           my
           Conscience
           beares
           me
           witness
           in
           these
           weak
           Endeavours
           ,
           my
           only
           Aime
           was
           at
           Gods
           Glory
           ,
           for
           that
           not
           seldome
           a
           verse
           moves
           such
           Delight
           and
           Attention
           as
           otherwise
           were
           not
           so
           easily
           obtain'd
           in
           the
           opinion
           of
        
         
           
             R.
             K.
             
          
        
      
    
     
       
         
         
         
           The
           Song
           of
           SOLOMON
           .
        
         
           
             
               Argument
               .
               Chap.
               1.
               
            
             
               
                 The
                 Church
                 to
                 Christ
                 makes
                 most
                 sincere
                 expression
              
               
                 Of
                 her
                 true
                 love
                 :
                 and
                 by
                 her
                 owne
                 confession
              
               
                 She
                 is
                 deform'd
                 ,
                 yet
                 prays
                 she
                 may
                 be
                 sent
              
               
                 Amongst
                 the
                 flocks
                 unto
                 the
                 shepheards
                 tent
                 ;
              
               
                 He
                 condescends
                 (
                 O
                 gratious
                 declaration
                 )
              
               
                 And
                 so
                 there
                 's
                 made
                 a
                 joynt
                 congratulation
                 .
              
               
                 Vers
                 :
              
            
          
           
             
               
                 Vers
                 .
              
               1
            
             
               AN
               holy
               Cantick
               paralell'd
               by
               none
               ,
            
             
               A
               Song
               of
               Songs
               ,
               the
               Song
               of
               Solomon
               ;
            
          
           
             
               
                 Vers
                 .
              
               2
            
             
               The
               sacred
               Kisses
               of
               his
               mouth
               kiss
               mine
               ,
            
             
               Thy
               love
               doth
               much
               exceed
               the
               sweetest
               wine
               .
            
             
               There
               's
               hope
               of
               concord
               (
               Diapason
               sweet
               )
            
             
               When
               spouse
               her
               Husband
               doth
               so
               kindly
               greet
               .
            
          
           
             
               
                 Vers
                 .
              
               3
            
             
               The
               fragant
               savour
               of
               thine
               Oyntments
               prove
               thee
            
             
               Effus'd
               ,
               and
               therefore
               do
               the
               Virgins
               love
               thee
               .
            
          
           
             
               
                 Vers
                 .
              
               4
            
             
               O
               draw
               mee
               (
               sure
               thy
               hests
               we
               will
               not
               shun
               )
            
             
               We
               will
               make
               hast
               and
               after
               thee
               will
               run
               .
            
             
             
               A
               Gratious
               King
               most
               lovingly
               hath
               sought
               me
               ,
            
             
               Who
               hath
               into
               his
               royall
               chambers
               brought
               me
               .
            
             
               We
               will
               be
               glad
               and
               all
               rejoyce
               in
               thee
               ,
            
             
               Thy
               love
               's
               more
               precious
               then
               the
               Wine
               to
               me
               .
            
             
               From
               thee
               the
               upright
               never
               will
               depart
               ,
            
             
               But
               most
               entirely
               love
               thee
               in
               their
               heart
               .
            
          
           
             
               
                 Vers
                 .
              
               5
            
             
               I
               do
               indeed
               confess
               that
               black
               I
               am
            
             
               (
               O
               all
               you
               daughters
               of
               Jerusalem
               )
            
             
               Like
               tents
               of
               Kedar
               though
               a
               comely
               one
               ,
            
             
               Or
               like
               the
               Curtaines
               of
               King
               Solomon
               .
            
          
           
             
               
                 Vers
                 .
              
               6
            
             
               O
               look
               not
               one
               me
               ,
               for
               if
               black
               I
               be
               ,
            
             
               The
               Sun
               hath
               blemish't
               ,
               and
               defaced
               me
               :
            
             
               There
               's
               none
               but
               will
               with
               me
               condole
               my
               woes
               ,
            
             
               To
               think
               that
               brethren
               should
               become
               my
               foes
               ,
            
             
               They
               only
               made
               me
               keeper
               of
               the
               Vine
               ,
            
             
               But
               careless
               and
               remiss
               I
               kept
               not
               mine
               .
            
          
           
             
               
                 Vers
                 .
              
               7
            
             
               Thou
               whom
               my
               soul
               doth
               love
               ,
               O
               let
               me
               tast
               ,
            
             
               And
               know
               where
               thou
               art
               pleas'd
               to
               take
               repast
               :
            
             
               Conceale
               it
               not
               ,
               I
               pray
               ,
               to
               mee
               disclose
            
             
               Where
               all
               thy
               tender
               Flocks
               at
               noon
               repose
               :
            
             
               For
               why
               should
               I
               be
               one
               that
               turnes
               aside
               ,
            
             
               Or
               goes
               astray
               ?
               Come
               ,
               come
               ,
               be
               thou
               my
               guide
               .
            
          
           
             
               
                 Vers
                 .
              
               8
            
             
               O
               thou
               of
               women
               fairest
               ,
               wouldst
               thou
               know
               ?
            
             
               Then
               trace
               my
               flocks
               ,
               and
               by
               their
               foot-steps
               go
               ;
            
             
               And
               let
               thy
               tender
               Kids
               take
               nutriment
            
             
               With
               neare
               approaches
               to
               the
               shepherds
               tent
               .
            
          
           
             
               
                 Vers
                 .
              
               9
            
             
               I
               did
               thee
               often
               ,
               O
               my
               love
               ,
               compare
            
             
               To
               horses
               that
               in
               Pharaohs
               chariots
               are
               .
            
          
           
             
               
                 Vers
                 .
              
               10
            
             
               Rich
               jewels
               set
               in
               rowes
               thy
               cheeks
               do
               grace
               :
            
             
               Chaines
               of
               the
               purest
               gold
               thy
               neck
               embrace
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               
                 Vers
                 .
              
               11
            
             
               To
               the
               Rich
               Golden
               Borders
               for
               content
            
             
               Wee
               l
               make
               with
               Silver
               Studs
               for
               Ornament
               .
            
          
           
             
               
                 Vers
                 .
              
               12
            
             
               While
               that
               my
               royall
               King
               receives
               refection
            
             
               I
               feast
               one
               sence
               with
               Spicknards
               sweet
               confection
               .
            
          
           
             
               
                 Vers
                 .
              
               13
            
             
               A
               bundle
               of
               sweet
               Myrrh
               my
               well-beloved
            
             
               Is
               unto
               me
               ,
               and
               so
               of
               me
               approved
               .
            
             
               O
               may
               it
               be
               well
               pleasing
               in
               his
               sight
            
             
               Between
               my
               Breasts
               to
               lodge
               and
               lye
               at
               night
               .
            
          
           
             
               
                 Vers
                 .
              
               14
            
             
               He
               as
               a
               Cypress
               cluster
               is
               to
               me
            
             
               Among
               the
               fertill
               vines
               of
               Engedie
               .
            
          
           
             
               
                 Vers
                 .
              
               15
            
             
               Behold
               ,
               behold
               how
               fair
               thou
               art
               my
               Love
               ,
            
             
               Thine
               eyes
               are
               like
               th'
               eyes
               of
               the
               comely
               Dove
               .
            
          
           
             
               
                 Vers
                 .
              
               16
            
             
               Behold
               ,
               Beloved
               thou
               art
               pleasing
               fair
               ,
            
             
               Our
               bed
               is
               also
               green
               ,
               my
               Dove
               ,
               my
               Dear
               .
            
          
           
             
               
                 Vers
                 .
              
               17
            
             
               The
               Beams
               are
               Cedar
               which
               our
               house
               support
               ,
            
             
               Our
               Rafters
               Firr
               :
               so
               do
               they
               well
               consort
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             
               Argument
               .
               Chap.
               2.
               
            
             
               
                 The
                 mutuall
                 love
                 of
                 Christ
                 ,
                 and
                 Church
                 we
                 hear
                 ,
              
               
                 The
                 hope
                 and
                 her
                 vocation
                 doth
                 appear
                 ;
              
               
                 Christs
                 tender
                 care
                 of
                 her
                 ,
                 and
                 her
                 profession
                 ,
              
               
                 The
                 Church
                 her
                 hope
                 ,
                 and
                 of
                 her
                 faiths
                 Confession
                 .
              
            
          
           
             
               
                 Vers
                 .
              
               1
            
             
               I
               am
               the
               Rose
               of
               Sharons
               fertile
               field
               ,
            
             
               The
               fairest
               Lillie
               that
               the
               vallies
               yeeld
               .
            
          
           
             
               
                 Vers
                 .
              
               2
            
             
               Even
               as
               the
               Lillie
               that
               with
               thornes
               doth
               grow
            
             
               Amongst
               the
               daughters
               ,
               so
               my
               Love
               ye
               know
               .
            
          
           
             
               
                 Vers
                 .
              
               3
            
             
               Amongst
               the
               Brambles
               ,
               as
               the
               Apple-Tree
               ,
            
             
               Amongst
               the
               sonnes
               so
               is
               my
               Dear
               to
               mee
               .
            
             
             
               'T
               was
               my
               delight
               and
               best
               my
               Joyes
               did
               fit
               ,
            
             
               When
               underneath
               his
               shaddow
               I
               did
               sit
               :
            
             
               There
               to
               repose
               I
               made
               no
               little
               hast
               :
            
             
               His
               fruit
               was
               sweet
               and
               pleasing
               to
               my
               tast
               .
            
          
           
             
               
                 Vers
                 .
              
               4
            
             
               He
               brought
               me
               to
               the
               wine
               ,
               and
               for
               mine
               honour
            
             
               Did
               over
               me
               display
               his
               loving
               Banner
               .
            
          
           
             
               
                 Vers
                 .
              
               5
            
             
               Stay
               me
               with
               flaggons
               ,
               apples
               comfort
               me
               ;
            
             
               For
               I
               am
               sick
               ,
               sick
               of
               loves
               maladie
               .
            
          
           
             
               
                 Vers
                 .
              
               6
            
             
               Under
               my
               head
               he
               doth
               his
               left
               hand
               place
               ,
            
             
               And
               with
               his
               right
               he
               kindly
               doth
               embrace
               .
            
          
           
             
               
                 Vers
                 .
              
               7
            
             
               I
               do
               adjure
               you
               of
               Jerusalem
            
             
               Even
               by
               the
               Roes
               and
               Hindes
               ,
               and
               all
               of
               them
            
             
               You
               do
               not
               stir
               ,
               nor
               once
               my
               love
               dis-ease
               ,
            
             
               Nor
               yet
               presume
               t'
               awake
               him
               till
               he
               please
               .
            
          
           
             
               
                 Vers
                 .
              
               8
            
             
               O
               leap
               for
               Joy
               ,
               and
               chearfully
               rejoyce
               ,
            
             
               For
               surely
               't
               is
               my
               well-Beloved's
               voice
               .
            
             
               Behold
               ,
               he
               comes
               leaping
               upon
               the
               mountaines
            
             
               Skipping
               the
               hills
               ,
               above
               the
               liquid
               fountaines
               .
            
          
           
             
               
                 Vers
                 .
              
               9
            
             
               If
               my
               Belov'd
               I
               can
               directly
               know
            
             
               He
               's
               like
               the
               Hart
               ,
               or
               like
               the
               nimble
               Roe
               :
            
             
               Behold
               ,
               behind
               our
               wall
               he
               takes
               his
               Station
               ,
            
             
               And
               through
               the
               window
               makes
               his
               Speculation
               :
            
             
               O
               how
               these
               sacred
               Glympes
               my
               Soul
               do
               nourish
               ,
            
             
               When
               through
               the
               Lattess
               I
               behold
               him
               flourish
               .
            
          
           
             
               
                 Vers
                 .
              
               10
            
             
               My
               Dear-Beloved
               spake
               ,
               and
               thus
               did
               say
               ,
            
             
               Rise
               up
               my
               Love
               ,
               my
               Fair
               One
               ,
               come
               away
               .
            
          
           
             
               
                 Vers
                 .
              
               11
            
             
               For
               loe
               the
               thunder
               clapping
               stormes
               at
               last
               flowers
               ,
            
             
               Do
               cease
               ,
               the
               Raine
               is
               over
               ,
               Winter
               past
               .
            
          
           
             
               
                 Vers
                 .
              
               12
            
             
               The
               Earth's
               adorn'd
               with
               sweet
               and
               fragrant
            
             
               The
               Birds
               make
               Musick
               in
               their
               wooden
               Towers
               :
            
             
             
               Rejoyce
               and
               sing
               your
               comfort
               's
               now
               at
               hand
               ,
            
             
               The
               Turtles
               Voice
               is
               heard
               within
               our
               Land.
               
            
          
           
             
               
                 Vers
                 .
              
               13
            
             
               The
               Fig
               Tree
               shew's
               her
               fruit
               though
               it
               be
               green
               ,
            
             
               The
               Vines
               sweet
               smelling
               tender
               grapes
               are
               seen
               ;
            
             
               (
               His
               joyfull
               sacred
               Voice
               brooks
               no
               delay
               )
            
             
               Arise
               my
               love
               ,
               my
               faire
               one
               ,
               come
               away
               .
            
          
           
             
               
                 Vers
                 .
              
               14
            
             
               My
               Dove
               !
               that
               art
               within
               the
               secret
               place
            
             
               Of
               Rocks
               ,
               and
               Staires
               ,
               let
               me
               behold
               thy
               face
               :
            
             
               Thy
               sweet
               melodious
               voice
               O
               let
               me
               hear
               ,
            
             
               Voice
               sweet
               ,
               and
               count'nance
               comly
               both
               appear
               .
            
          
           
             
               
                 Vers
                 .
              
               15
            
             
               The
               great
               and
               little
               Foxes
               see
               you
               take
               ,
            
             
               For
               in
               our
               Vines
               and
               Grapes
               they
               havock
               make
               .
            
          
           
             
               
                 Vers
                 .
              
               16
            
             
               My
               well-Belov'd
               is
               mine
               ,
               mine
               wholly
               is
               ,
            
             
               I
               in
               like
               manner
               totally
               am
               his
               .
            
          
           
             
               
                 Vers
                 .
              
               17
            
             
               Amongst
               the
               fairest
               Lillies
               feedeth
               hee
               ,
            
             
               Till
               Sun
               dispell
               the
               Clouds
               ,
               till
               Shadows
               flee
               .
            
             
               Return
               belov'd
               ,
               like
               some
               young
               Hart
               or
               Roe
               ,
            
             
               Which
               do
               upon
               the
               Mount
               of
               Bether
               go
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             
               Argument
               :
               Chap
               3.
               
            
             
               
                 The
                 Church
                 her
                 fight
                 and
                 Conquest
                 in
                 temptation
                 ;
              
               
                 Her
                 Glory
                 and
                 Triumphant
                 Ostentation
                 .
              
            
          
           
             
               
                 Vers
                 .
              
               1
            
             
               In
               bed
               I
               sought
               him
               by
               obscurest
               night
            
             
               Whom
               my
               Soul
               counts
               most
               precious
               in
               her
               sight
               ▪
            
             
               No
               place
               so
               secret
               which
               I
               had
               forgot
               ,
            
             
               Wherein
               to
               seek
               him
               ,
               yet
               I
               found
               him
               not
               .
            
          
           
             
               
                 Vers
                 .
              
               2
            
             
               No
               Street
               ,
               nor
               place
               in
               Citty
               ,
               but
               I
               le
               prove
               ,
            
             
               And
               search
               and
               seek
               him
               whom
               my
               Soul
               doth
               love
               ,
            
          
           
             
             
               
                 Vers
                 .
              
               3
            
             
               The
               Watch
               men
               which
               about
               the
               Citty
               went
               ,
            
             
               Even
               they
               had
               found
               me
               out
               incontinent
               :
            
             
               To
               whom
               I
               said
               ,
               ô
               can
               you
               learn
               or
               prove
            
             
               Where
               I
               may
               find
               him
               whom
               my
               Soul
               doth
               love
               .
            
          
           
             
               
                 Vers
                 .
              
               4
            
             
               From
               whom
               ,
               when
               I
               had
               past
               a
               litle
               space
               ,
            
             
               I
               found
               my
               Soul
               's
               sweet
               Love
               ,
               and
               only
               Grace
               :
            
             
               Fast
               hold
               on
               him
               I
               took
               ,
               (
               I
               long
               had
               sought
               him
               )
            
             
               I
               left
               him
               not
               ,
               but
               to
               my
               mother
               brought
               him
               ;
            
             
               Nor
               yet
               content
               untill
               I
               did
               him
               see
            
             
               Within
               her
               Chamber
               that
               conceived
               me
               .
            
          
           
             
               
                 Vers
                 .
              
               5
            
             
               I
               do
               adjure
               you
               of
               Jerusalem
            
             
               Even
               by
               the
               Roes
               ,
               
               the
               Hindes
               ,
               and
               all
               of
               them
               ,
            
             
               You
               do
               not
               stir
               ,
               nor
               once
               my
               Love
               disease
               ,
            
             
               Nor
               yet
               presume
               t'
               awake
               him
               till
               he
               please
               .
            
          
           
             
               
                 Vers
                 .
              
               6
            
             
               Who
               is
               She
               now
               that
               comes
               (
               I
               pray
               confess
               )
            
             
               Like
               smoaking
               Pillars
               from
               the
               Wilderness
               ,
            
             
               Perfum'd
               with
               Odours
               ,
               Myrth
               ,
               and
               incense
               brave
               ,
            
             
               And
               with
               all
               Spices
               which
               the
               Merchants
               have
               ?
            
          
           
             
               
                 Vers
                 .
              
               7
            
             
               Behold
               the
               Princely
               bed
               of
               Solomon
               ,
            
             
               A
               rich
               one
               sure
               ,
               for
               like
               it
               there
               is
               none
               ;
            
             
               Ther
               's
               round
               about
               it
               (
               if
               you
               view
               it
               well
               )
            
             
               Sixtie
               brave
               valiant
               men
               of
               Israel
               .
            
          
           
             
               
                 Vers
                 .
              
               8
            
             
               They
               brandish
               all
               the
               Sword
               :
               they
               fear
               no
               Skars
               ,
            
             
               Couragious
               all
               ,
               all
               expert
               in
               the
               warres
            
             
               All
               have
               their
               Swords
               upon
               their
               Thighs
               for
               fear
            
             
               Least
               any
               Danger
               should
               by
               Night
               appear
               .
            
          
           
             
               
                 Vers
                 .
              
               9
            
             
               A
               Pallace
               was
               there
               made
               by
               Solomon
            
             
               Of
               the
               strong
               stately
               Trees
               of
               Lebanon
               :
            
             
               The
               Pillars
               Silver
               ,
               and
               the
               Pavement
               Gold
               ,
            
             
               The
               Covering
               Richest
               purple
               that
               is
               sold
               :
            
             
             
               The
               midst
               thereof
               with
               love
               was
               pav'd
               for
               them
               ,
            
             
               (
               I
               mean
               )
               the
               Daughters
               of
               Jerusalem
               .
            
          
           
             
               
                 Vers
                 .
              
               10
            
             
               Goe
               forth
               ye
               Daughters
               of
               Mount
               Zion
               ,
               see
            
             
               The
               King
               now
               crown'd
               in
               Glorious
               Majesty
               :
            
             
               (
               O
               chiefest
               Joy
               ,
               ô
               sacred
               Consolation
            
             
               To
               hear
               of
               such
               a
               matchless
               Coronation
               .
               )
            
          
        
         
           
             
               Argument
               .
               Chap.
               4
            
             
               
                 The
                 Graces
                 of
                 the
                 Church
                 he
                 makes
                 appear
                 ,
              
               
                 With
                 that
                 true
                 Love
                 which
                 he
                 to
                 her
                 doth
                 bear
                 ;
              
               
                 She
                 likewise
                 prayes
                 he
                 would
                 vouchafe
                 her
                 fit
              
               
                 In
                 his
                 most
                 Gratious
                 presence
                 for
                 to
                 sit
                 .
              
            
          
           
             
               
                 Vers
                 .
              
               1
            
             
               Loe
               thou
               art
               fair
               ,
               yea
               fair
               thou
               art
               my
               Love
               ,
            
             
               Thine
               eyes
               are
               like
               ,
               th'
               eyes
               of
               the
               comely
               Dove
               :
            
             
               Those
               comely
               haires
               which
               grow
               among
               thy
               locks
               ,
            
             
               In
               my
               esteem
               are
               like
               unto
               the
               Flocks
            
             
               Of
               Goats
               ,
               (
               th'
               increase
               whereof
               makes
               th'owners
               glad
               ,
            
             
               Such
               as
               look
               down
               from
               great
               Mount
               Gilead
               .
            
          
           
             
               
                 Vers
                 .
              
               2
            
             
               Thy
               teeth
               like
               flocks
               of
               Sheep
               in
               order
               grow
               ,
            
             
               Which
               purely
               wash't
               do
               from
               the
               washing
               go
               ;
            
             
               Each
               one
               brings
               twins
               (
               so
               fruitfull
               is
               the
               Stock
               )
            
             
               There
               is
               not
               one
               prov's
               barren
               in
               the
               flock
               .
            
          
           
             
               
                 Vers
                 .
              
               3
            
             
               Thy
               Lipps
               like
               Scarlet
               are
               (
               thy
               teeth
               to
               fence
               )
            
             
               Thy
               talk
               's
               most
               comely
               ,
               sweet
               ,
               thy
               conference
               ;
            
             
               And
               as
               a
               peece
               of
               a
               Pomegranat
               rare
            
             
               Within
               thy
               Locks
               ,
               even
               so
               thy
               Temples
               are
               .
            
          
           
             
               
                 Vers
                 .
              
               4
            
             
               Thy
               neck
               is
               strong
               ,
               't
               is
               of
               great
               force
               &
               power
               ,
            
             
               Made
               for
               Defence
               like
               David's
               only
               Tower
            
             
             
               A
               Thousand
               Shields
               do
               hang
               within
               the
               same
               ,
            
             
               And
               all
               the
               Targets
               of
               great
               men
               of
               fame
               .
            
          
           
             
               
                 Vers
                 .
              
               5
            
             
               Thy
               Breasts
               like
               two
               young
               Roes
               (
               being
               twins
               )
               appear
            
             
               Which
               do
               themselves
               among
               the
               Lillies
               chear
               .
            
          
           
             
               
                 Vers
                 .
              
               6
            
             
               Till
               the
               day
               break
               ,
               and
               shaddows
               pass
               away
               ,
            
             
               The
               Mount
               of
               Myrrh
               ,
               and
               Incense
               I
               'le
               survey
               .
            
          
           
             
               
                 Vers
                 .
              
               7
            
             
               Thou
               art
               all
               fair
               my
               Love
               ;
               in
               thee
               's
               no
               blot
               ,
            
             
               Nor
               is
               there
               blemish
               or
               deformed
               spot
               .
            
          
           
             
               
                 Vers
                 .
              
               8
            
             
               O
               come
               with
               me
               my
               Spouse
               ,
               come
               let
               's
               be
               gon
               ,
            
             
               Make
               hast
               ,
               come
               quickly
               from
               Mount
               Lebanon
               :
            
             
               From
               Amana
               see
               that
               thou
               cast
               thine
               eye
               :
            
             
               From
               Shenir
               top
               ,
               and
               from
               Mount
               Hermon
               high
               ,
            
             
               From
               Dens
               of
               Lyons
               ,
               and
               the
               Mountains
               fell
               ,
            
             
               Where
               none
               but
               cruell
               spotted
               Leopards
               dwell
               .
            
          
           
             
               
                 Vers
                 .
              
               9
            
             
               My
               Spouse
               ,
               my
               Sister
               ,
               thou
               hast
               ravished
            
             
               Mine
               Heart
               ,
               and
               hast
               with
               Love
               me
               captive
               led
               ;
            
             
               Both
               with
               thine
               Eye
               ,
               and
               Chain
               (
               my
               Love
               my
               Dear
               )
            
             
               Which
               thou
               about
               thy
               comely
               neck
               dost
               wear
               .
            
          
           
             
               
                 Vers
                 .
              
               10
            
             
               How
               fair
               's
               thy
               Love
               (
               my
               Spouse
               &
               Sister
               mine
               ,
            
             
               And
               how
               much
               better
               is
               thy
               Love
               then
               Wine
               !
            
             
               And
               all
               thine
               Oyntments
               in
               their
               fragrant
               smell
               ,
            
             
               The
               richest
               Spices
               of
               the
               world
               excell
               .
            
          
           
             
               
                 Vers
                 .
              
               11
            
             
               Thy
               Lips
               like
               th'hony
               comb
               drop
               constantly
               ,
            
             
               Under
               thy
               Tongue
               doth
               milke
               and
               hony
               lie
               :
            
             
               The
               Garments
               which
               thou
               dayly
               put'st
               upon
            
             
               Do
               smell
               as
               sweet
               as
               Mount
               Lebanon
               .
            
          
           
             
               
                 Vers
                 .
              
               12
            
             
               My
               Spouse
               a
               spring
               shut
               up
               ,
               or
               fountain
               sealed
            
             
               Doth
               seem
               ,
               or
               like
               a
               Garden
               fast
               impaled
               .
            
          
           
             
               
                 Vers
                 .
              
               13
            
             
               Thy
               plants
               ,
               an
               Orchard
               of
               Pomegranates
               are
               ,
            
             
               With
               Spicknard
               ,
               Camphire
               ,
               and
               what
               else
               is
               rare
               :
            
          
           
             
             
               
                 Vers
                 .
              
               14
            
             
               Spicknard
               ,
               and
               Saffron
               ,
               Calamus
               ,
               and
               Myrrh
               ,
            
             
               Aloes
               ,
               chief
               Spices
               ,
               with
               the
               juice
               of
               Firr
               .
            
          
           
             
               
                 Vers
                 .
              
               15
            
             
               O
               Gardens
               fountain
               ,
               Well
               of
               waters
               living
               ,
            
             
               With
               streames
               from
               Lebanon
               true
               comfort
               giving
               .
            
          
           
             
               
                 Vers
                 .
              
               16
            
             
               Arise
               O
               North
               ,
               and
               come
               O
               South
               ,
               and
               blow
            
             
               On
               this
               My
               Garden
               ,
               that
               the
               spice
               may
               flow
               ;
            
             
               Let
               my
               Beloved
               to
               his
               Garden
               hast
               ,
            
             
               And
               of
               the
               fruits
               best
               pleasing
               let
               him
               tast
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             
               Argument
               :
               Chap.
               5.
               
            
             
               
                 Christ
                 here
                 awakes
                 his
                 Church
                 and
                 her
                 he
                 calls
                 ,
              
               
                 She
                 tast's
                 his
                 Love
                 ,
                 and
                 then
                 Love-sick
                 she
                 falls
                 ,
              
               
                 Not
                 fully
                 able
                 yet
                 she
                 interlaces
              
               
                 A
                 brief
                 de
                 scription
                 of
                 him
                 by
                 his
                 Graces
                 .
              
            
          
           
             
               
                 Vers
                 .
              
               1
            
             
               Loe
               in
               my
               Garden
               Sister
               now
               am
               I
               ,
            
             
               My
               Myrrh
               I
               gather
               with
               my
               Spicery
               ,
            
             
               On
               th'hony
               comb
               ,
               and
               hony
               is
               my
               will
            
             
               To
               feed
               ;
               on
               Wine
               and
               Milk
               to
               drink
               my
               fill
               :
            
             
               Be
               merry
               friends
               ,
               't
               is
               comfort
               you
               may
               think
               ,
            
             
               When
               you
               may
               feast
               ,
               and
               may
               so
               freely
               drink
               .
            
          
           
             
               
                 Vers
                 .
              
               2
            
             
               Indeed
               I
               now
               do
               sleep
               and
               slumber
               take
               ,
            
             
               And
               yet
               methinks
               my
               troubled
               soul
               doth
               wake
               ,
            
             
               'T
               is
               my
               Beloved's
               voice
               that
               sems
               to
               knock
               ,
            
             
               And
               saith
               ,
               come
               quickly
               ,
               quick
               to
               me
               unlock
               ,
            
             
               My
               Sister
               ,
               Love
               ,
               my
               Dove
               ,
               immaculate
               ,
            
             
               Make
               hast
               ,
               dispateh
               ,
               wide
               open
               set
               the
               gate
               ,
            
             
               My
               head
               is
               full
               of
               dew
               ,
               which
               doth
               distill
            
             
               The
               humid
               Drops
               by
               night
               ,
               my
               locks
               do
               fill
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               
                 Vers
                 .
              
               3
            
             
               I
               am
               now
               naked
               ,
               for
               my
               Coat
               is
               gone
               ,
            
             
               Alass
               what
               meanes
               is
               there
               to
               put
               it
               on
               ?
            
             
               I
               now
               am
               wash't
               ,
               and
               now
               my
               feet
               be
               clean
               ,
            
             
               Must
               I
               pollute
               ,
               and
               them
               defile
               again
               ?
            
          
           
             
               
                 Vers
                 .
              
               4
            
             
               My
               Love
               his
               hand
               put
               up
               into
               the
               door
               ,
            
             
               My
               Bowells
               for
               him
               all
               were
               moved
               sore
               .
            
          
           
             
               
                 Vers
                 .
              
               5
            
             
               I
               did
               arise
               when
               as
               my
               Love
               did
               knock
               ,
            
             
               With
               Myrrh
               perfum'd
               were
               Fingurs
               ,
               and
               the
               Lock
               .
            
          
           
             
               
                 Vers
                 .
              
               6
            
             
               I
               then
               did
               open
               ,
               but
               my
               Love
               was
               one
            
             
               Withdrew
               himselfe
               ,
               and
               quickly
               got
               him
               gone
               .
            
             
               (
               O
               Admiration
               ,
               )
               when
               to
               me
               he
               spake
               ,
            
             
               How
               sence
               and
               motion
               did
               my
               Soul
               forsake
               ?
            
             
               I
               sought
               him
               truly
               ,
               him
               I
               could
               not
               find
               ,
            
             
               No
               answer
               had
               I
               :
               (
               Justly
               I
               repind
               .
               )
            
          
           
             
               
                 Vers
                 .
              
               7
            
             
               The
               watchmen
               which
               in
               Citty
               walk
               the
               round
               ,
            
             
               They
               sought
               me
               out
               ,
               to
               me
               they
               gave
               the
               wound
               ;
            
             
               Wall
               Keepers
               struck
               me
               ,
               and
               they
               did
               assaile
            
             
               To
               take
               from
               me
               mine
               Honour
               ,
               and
               my
               vaile
               .
            
          
           
             
               
                 Vers
                 .
              
               8
            
             
               I
               charge
               you
               Daughters
               of
               Jerusalem
               ,
            
             
               Tell
               my
               Belov'd
               ,
               of
               Love
               that
               sick
               I
               am
               .
            
          
           
             
               
                 Vers
                 .
              
               9
            
             
               O
               Thou
               fair'st
               of
               Women
               ,
               (
               tell
               me
               if
               thou
               can
               )
            
             
               Is
               thy
               Love
               fairer
               then
               another
               man
               ?
            
             
               In
               thy
               Belov'd
               is
               this
               thy
               trust
               so
               large
            
             
               Him
               to
               preferr
               ,
               and
               us
               so
               deeply
               charge
               ?
            
          
           
             
               
                 Vers
                 .
              
               10
            
             
               O!
               my
               Belov'd
               is
               ruddy
               ,
               pure
               ,
               and
               white
               ,
            
             
               In
               whom
               before
               ten
               thousand
               I
               delight
               .
            
          
           
             
               
                 Vers
                 .
              
               11
            
             
               His
               head
               is
               like
               pure
               gold
               ,
               and
               gold
               that
               's
               fine
               ,
            
             
               His
               bushy
               Locks
               like
               raven
               sable
               shine
               .
            
          
           
             
               
                 Vers
                 .
              
               12
            
             
               His
               Eyes
               are
               like
               Doves
               Eyes
               ,
               by
               Rivers
               wet
            
             
               With
               Milk
               ,
               and
               wash't
               ,
               compos'd
               ,
               and
               fitly
               set
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               
                 Vers
                 .
              
               13
            
             
               His
               Cheeks
               like
               Beds
               of
               Spices
               in
               our
               Bowers
               ,
            
             
               Adorn'd
               ,
               and
               grac'd
               with
               sweet
               perfuming
               Flowers
               .
            
             
               His
               Lipps
               like
               fragrant
               Lillies
               dropping
               sweet
               ,
            
             
               Which
               with
               strong
               smelling
               Mirrh
               do
               kindly
               meet
               .
            
          
           
             
               
                 Vers
                 .
              
               14
            
             
               His
               hands
               like
               Ringes
               of
               Gold
               with
               Berill
               suited
            
             
               (
               Hands
               pure
               ,
               such
               hands
               as
               never
               were
               polluted
               )
            
             
               Like
               Ivory
               ,
               such
               is
               his
               belly
               bright
               ,
            
             
               With
               Saphyrs
               purest
               in
               our
               humane
               sight
               .
            
          
           
             
               
                 Vers
                 .
              
               15
            
             
               Like
               Marble
               Pillars
               ,
               such
               his
               leggs
               I
               hold
               ,
            
             
               Set
               on
               the
               Sockets
               of
               the
               purest
               Gold.
            
             
               Like
               Lebanon
               his
               count'nance
               permanent
               ,
            
             
               And
               like
               the
               Cedars
               ,
               so
               most
               excellent
               .
            
          
           
             
               
                 Vers
                 .
              
               16
            
             
               His
               Mouth
               is
               sweet
               ,
               yea
               loving
               sure
               is
               he
               ,
            
             
               He
               only
               ,
               he
               's
               best
               pleasing
               unto
               me
               .
            
             
               'T
               is
               my
               Belov'd
               ,
               my
               friend
               ,
               and
               his
               I
               am
               ,
            
             
               (
               O
               all
               you
               Daughters
               of
               Jerusalem
               )
            
          
        
         
           
             
               Argument
               .
               Chap.
               6.
               
            
             
               
                 The
                 Church
                 in
                 humble
                 manner
                 makes
                 profession
                 ,
              
               
                 And
                 of
                 her
                 Faith
                 in
                 Christ
                 ,
                 atrue
                 confession
                 ,
              
               
                 He
                 shews
                 the
                 the
                 Graces
                 of
                 his
                 Church
                 (
                 his
                 Dove
                 )
              
               
                 And
                 likewise
                 doth
                 assure
                 her
                 of
                 his
                 Love.
                 
              
            
          
           
             
               
                 Vers
                 .
              
               1
            
             
               Of
               Women
               thou
               the
               fairest
               ,
               where
               's
               that
               one
            
             
               I
               mean
               ,
               how
               far
               is
               thy
               Beloved
               gone
               ,
            
             
               And
               whither
               's
               thy
               Belov'd
               now
               turn'd
               aside
               ,
            
             
               That
               we
               may
               seek
               him
               ,
               and
               with
               him
               abide
               .
            
          
           
             
               
                 Vers
                 .
              
               2
            
             
               To
               Beds
               of
               Spices
               my
               Belov'd
               doth
               go
               ,
            
             
               To
               gather
               Lillies
               which
               in
               Gardens
               grow
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               
                 Vers
                 .
              
               3
            
             
               He
               feeds
               amongst
               them
               ,
               and
               without
               repine
               :
            
             
               His
               Love
               I
               am
               ,
               and
               my
               Belov'd
               is
               mine
               .
            
          
           
             
               
                 Vers
                 .
              
               4
            
             
               As
               beautifull
               as
               Tirza
               art
               thou
               love
               ,
            
             
               So
               comely
               as
               Jerusalem
               thou
               'l
               prove
               :
            
             
               Fierce
               like
               a
               Foe
               with
               brave
               undaunted
               braggs
               ,
            
             
               And
               like
               an
               Army
               with
               displayed
               Flaggs
               .
            
          
           
             
               
                 Vers
                 .
              
               5
            
             
               O
               turn
               ,
               O
               turn
               thy
               piercing
               eyes
               from
               me
               ,
            
             
               For
               now
               they
               seem
               to
               get
               the
               victorie
               .
            
             
               Thy
               Hair
               ,
               and
               comely
               Locks
               which
               thou
               dost
               wear
               ,
            
             
               Like
               Flocks
               of
               Goats
               in
               Gilead
               do
               appear
               .
            
          
           
             
               
                 Vers
                 .
              
               6
            
             
               Thy
               teeth
               like
               flocks
               of
               sheep
               in
               order
               grow
            
             
               Which
               purely
               wash't
               ,
               
               do
               from
               the
               washing
               go
               :
            
             
               Each
               one
               bring
               twins
               (
               so
               fertill
               is
               the
               stock
               )
            
             
               That
               there
               's
               not
               one
               proves
               barren
               in
               the
               flock
               .
            
          
           
             
               
                 Vers
                 .
              
               7
            
             
               And
               as
               a
               piece
               of
               a
               Pomegranat
               rare
            
             
               Within
               thy
               Locks
               even
               so
               thy
               Temples
               are
               .
            
          
           
             
               
                 Vers
                 .
              
               8
            
             
               Queens
               Sixtie
               ,
               Eightie
               Concubines
               there
               stand
               ,
            
             
               Virgins
               in
               number
               ,
               which
               exceed
               the
               Sand.
               
            
          
           
             
               
                 Vers
                 .
              
               9
            
             
               My
               Dove
               she
               's
               one
               that
               's
               pure
               and
               unpolluted
               ,
            
             
               Sole
               Daughter
               of
               her
               Mother
               she
               's
               reputed
               :
            
             
               The
               Daughters
               yeeld
               her
               blessed
               Salutations
               ,
            
             
               The
               Queens
               ,
               and
               Concubines
               high
               Commendations
               .
            
             
               Who
               is
               she
               ,
               and
               what
               count'nance
               in
               my
               sight
            
             
               Is
               that
               which
               seems
               like
               to
               the
               morning
               bright
               ?
            
             
               Fair
               as
               the
               Moon
               ,
               so
               radiant
               and
               so
               clear
               ,
            
             
               As
               is
               that
               glorious
               Sol
               in
               his
               careere
               :
            
             
               And
               Like
               an
               Armie
               (
               cruel
               in
               their
               manners
               )
            
             
               Most
               dreadfull
               in
               their
               practise
               under
               Banners
               .
            
          
           
             
               
                 Vers
                 .
              
               11
            
             
               Down
               to
               the
               Garden
               of
               the
               nuts
               went
               I
               ,
            
             
               Fruits
               in
               the
               valley
               that
               I
               might
               espy
               ,
            
             
             
               If
               Vine
               did
               flourish
               ,
               if
               the
               Grapes
               were
               good
               ,
            
             
               Or
               if
               Pomegranat
               yet
               put
               forth
               a
               Budd
               .
            
          
           
             
               
                 Vers
                 .
              
               12
            
             
               My
               Soul
               for
               flight
               before
               I
               was
               aware
            
             
               In
               Chariots
               of
               my
               Nobles
               did
               prepare
               .
            
             
               Returne
               ,
               O
               Shulamite
               ,
               procrastination
            
             
               Renounce
               ,
               on
               thee
               let
               's
               fix
               our
               contemplation
               ,
            
             
               In
               this
               ,
               our
               Shulamite
               ,
               what
               can
               you
               see
               ?
            
             
               Even
               as
               a
               furious
               armed
               companie
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             
               Argument
               .
               Chap.
               7.
               
            
             
               
                 Her
                 Graces
                 here
                 are
                 Further
                 manifested
                 ,
              
               
                 Faith
                 and
                 Desire
                 are
                 likewise
                 here
                 protested
                 .
              
            
          
           
             
               
                 Vers
                 .
              
               1
            
             
               How
               splendent
               is
               th'
               appearence
               unto
               me
            
             
               Of
               thy
               shod
               feet
               ,
               O
               Princely
               Progenie
               ?
            
             
               Joynts
               of
               thy
               Thighs
               like
               precious
               Jewells
               are
               ,
            
             
               No
               work
               of
               Artists
               may
               with
               them
               compare
               .
            
          
           
             
               
                 Vers
                 .
              
               2
            
             
               Thy
               Navell's
               some
               round
               goblett
               without
               crack
            
             
               And
               such
               an
               one
               as
               doth
               no
               Liquor
               lack
               :
            
             
               An
               heap
               of
               Wheat
               so
               white
               as
               whitest
               Lillie
               ,
            
             
               Even
               such
               an
               one
               is
               my
               Beloved's
               Bellie
               .
            
          
           
             
               
                 Vers
                 .
              
               3
            
             
               Thy
               Breasts
               like
               to
               yong
               Roes
               being
               twins
               appear
               ;
            
             
               Which
               do
               themselves
               among
               the
               Lillies
               chear
               .
            
          
           
             
               
                 Vers
                 .
              
               4
            
             
               Thy
               Neck
               is
               like
               some
               Turret
               mounted
               high
               ,
               
            
             
               Or
               Tower
               of
               the
               purest
               Ivorie
               ;
            
             
               Thine
               Eyes
               are
               full
               of
               Glorie
               and
               of
               State
               ,
            
             
               Like
               Heshbons
               Pool
               near
               to
               Bathrabbims
               Gate
               :
            
             
               Like
               Lebanons
               fair
               Tower
               is
               thy
               Nose
               ,
            
             
               Which
               on
               Damascus
               doth
               a
               looke
               dispose
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               
                 Vers
                 .
              
               5
            
             
               Thine
               head
               like
               Carmel
               ,
               purple
               is
               thine
               haire
               :
            
             
               The
               Kings
               bound
               in
               thy
               rafters
               (
               O
               my
               Deare
               .
               )
            
          
           
             
               
                 Vers
                 .
              
               6
            
             
               How
               faire
               ,
               how
               pleasant
               art
               thou
               for
               delight
               ,
            
             
               My
               Love
               ?
               (
               I
               am
               unable
               to
               recite
               .
               )
            
          
           
             
               
                 Vers
                 .
              
               7
            
             
               Thy
               stature's
               like
               the
               palm
               ,
               those
               breasts
               of
               thine
            
             
               Are
               like
               the
               clusters
               of
               the
               sweetest
               vine
               ,
            
          
           
             
               
                 Vers
                 .
              
               8
            
             
               Up
               to
               the
               Palme
               tree
               I
               much
               speed
               will
               make
               ,
            
             
               And
               on
               the
               boughs
               thereof
               fast
               hold
               will
               take
               :
            
             
               Like
               clusters
               of
               the
               Grape
               thy
               breasts
               shall
               be
               ,
            
             
               Smell
               of
               thy
               nose
               like
               apples
               unto
               mee
               .
            
          
           
             
               
                 Vers
                 .
              
               9
            
             
               The
               pallat
               of
               thy
               mouth
               like
               sweetest
               wine
               ,
            
             
               Prepar'd
               and
               fit
               for
               this
               belov'd
               of
               mine
               .
            
             
               Such
               wine
               as
               forceth
               by
               pure
               influence
               ,
            
             
               Those
               fast
               asleep
               to
               shew
               their
               eloquence
               .
            
          
           
             
               
                 Vers
                 .
              
               10
            
             
               My
               well
               belov'd
               is
               mine
               ,
               mine
               wholly
               is
               ;
            
             
               I
               in
               like
               manner
               totally
               am
               his
               .
            
          
           
             
               
                 Vers
                 .
              
               11
            
             
               Into
               the
               fields
               ,
               belov'd
               ,
               let
               's
               hast
               amain
               ,
            
             
               And
               in
               the
               villages
               let
               us
               remaine
               .
            
          
           
             
               
                 Vers
                 .
              
               12
            
             
               Let
               's
               early
               rise
               and
               to
               the
               Vine-yards
               hie
               ,
            
             
               There
               to
               behold
               the
               Vines
               plosperity
               :
            
             
               Whether
               the
               root
               its
               tender
               vine
               doth
               nourish
               ,
            
             
               Or
               Vines
               yeeld
               Grapes
               ,
               or
               if
               Pomegranat
               flourish
               :
            
             
               And
               there
               ,
               even
               there
               thou
               shalt
               most
               certain
               prove
               ,
            
             
               That
               I
               will
               freely
               give
               to
               thee
               my
               love
               .
            
          
           
             
               
                 Vers
                 .
              
               13
            
             
               The
               Mandrakes
               ,
               O
               belov'd
               ,
               I
               send
               forth
               a
               smel
               ,
            
             
               Within
               our
               Gates
               are
               all
               things
               that
               excell
               ;
            
             
               All
               fruits
               both
               new
               and
               old
               ,
               and
               best
               approved
            
             
               I
               have
               layd
               up
               for
               thee
               my
               best
               beloved
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             
             
               Argument
               .
               Chap
               :
               8.
               
            
             
               
                 The
                 Church
                 her
                 love
                 ,
                 and
                 fervent
                 inflamation
              
               
                 To
                 Christ
                 :
                 and
                 of
                 the
                 Gentiles
                 true
                 vocation
                 :
              
               
                 The
                 Church
                 here
                 longs
                 ,
                 nor
                 can
                 she
                 brook
                 delayes
                 ,
              
               
                 She
                 daily
                 for
                 Christs
                 sacred
                 coming
                 prayes
                 .
              
            
          
           
             
               
                 Vers
                 .
              
               1
            
             
               O
               would
               thou
               were
               like
               my
               native
               brother
               ,
            
             
               Who
               suckt
               the
               breasts
               of
               my
               most
               loving
               mother
               .
            
             
               When
               I
               without
               should
               find
               thee
               would
               I
               meet
               thee
               ,
            
             
               And
               would
               most
               kindly
               with
               my
               kisses
               greet
               thee
               :
            
             
               With
               kindest
               greeting
               that
               might
               be
               devised
               ,
            
             
               I
               would
               salute
               ,
               and
               yet
               not
               be
               despised
               .
            
          
           
             
               
                 Vers
                 .
              
               2
            
             
               Then
               would
               I
               bring
               ,
               &
               forthwith
               would
               conduct
               thee
            
             
               Into
               my
               mothers
               house
               who
               would
               instruct
               mee
               ,
            
             
               Where
               thou
               shouldst
               drinke
               wine
               (
               of
               such
               influence
               )
            
             
               Of
               my
               pomegranats
               ,
               spiced
               Quintescence
               .
            
          
           
             
               
                 Vers
                 .
              
               3
            
             
               Under
               my
               head
               his
               left
               hand
               should
               he
               place
               ,
            
             
               And
               with
               his
               right
               should
               kindly
               mee
               embrace
               .
            
          
           
             
               
                 Vers
                 .
              
               4
            
             
               I
               charge
               you
               daughters
               of
               Jerusalem
               ,
               
            
             
               Even
               by
               the
               Roes
               ,
               the
               Hinds
               ,
               and
               all
               of
               them
               ,
            
             
               You
               do
               not
               stirre
               ,
               nor
               once
               my
               love
               dis-ease
               ,
            
             
               Nor
               yet
               presume
               t'
               awake
               him
               till
               he
               please
               .
            
          
           
             
               
                 Vers
                 .
              
               5
            
             
               Who
               is
               this
               now
               comes
               leaning
               (
               pray
               confesse
               )
            
             
               On
               her
               beloved
               from
               the
               wildernesse
               ?
            
             
               By
               mine
               endeavours
               I
               have
               raised
               thee
            
             
               From
               underneath
               the
               fruitfull
               apple
               tree
               ;
            
             
               There
               that
               deare
               mother
               that
               conceived
               thee
            
             
               Did
               bring
               thee
               forth
               :
               (
               a
               blessed
               progenie
               .
               )
            
          
           
             
             
               
                 Vers
                 .
              
               6
            
             
               O
               thou
               my
               love
               ,
               see
               thou
               do
               not
               forget
               mee
            
             
               In
               heart
               ,
               on
               arme
               there
               like
               a
               signet
               set
               mee
               :
            
             
               For
               love
               is
               strong
               as
               death
               ,
               and
               jealousie
            
             
               Is
               to
               the
               grave
               most
               like
               for
               cruelty
               :
            
             
               Th'
               are
               coales
               of
               fire
               ,
               which
               issue
               from
               the
               same
               ,
            
             
               which
               do
               afford
               an
               hot
               and
               vehement
               flame
               .
            
          
           
             
               
                 Vers
                 .
              
               7
            
             
               Much
               water
               cannot
               quench
               lov
               's
               inflamation
               ,
            
             
               Nor
               can
               floods
               drowne
               it
               with
               their
               inundation
               :
            
             
               Though
               man
               would
               give
               his
               whole
               estate
               for
               love
               ,
            
             
               It
               would
               nought
               but
               contempt
               and
               hatred
               move
               .
            
          
           
             
               
                 Vers
                 .
              
               8
            
             
               We
               have
               a
               sister
               ,
               but
               those
               springs
               be
               dry
               ,
            
             
               Which
               fed
               yong
               babes
               ,
               &
               still
               them
               when
               they
               cry
               ;
            
             
               What
               shall
               wee
               for
               our
               little
               sister
               do
               ,
            
             
               When
               for
               her
               shall
               be
               suit
               and
               seeking
               to
               .
            
          
           
             
               
                 Vers
                 .
              
               9
            
             
               If
               that
               she
               be
               a
               wall
               without
               defect
               ,
            
             
               On
               her
               a
               silver
               pallace
               wee
               'l
               erect
               :
            
             
               If
               that
               a
               doore
               she
               be
               we
               thus
               dispose
               her
               ,
            
             
               Only
               with
               boards
               of
               Cedar
               to
               inclose
               her
               .
            
          
           
             
               
                 Vers
                 .
              
               10
            
             
               I
               was
               a
               wall
               with
               breasts
               like
               towers
               bright
               ,
            
             
               Then
               was
               I
               one
               found
               favour
               in
               his
               sight
               .
            
          
           
             
               
                 Vers
                 .
              
               11
            
             
               At
               Baal-hamon
               was
               a
               vineyard
               large
               ,
            
             
               Which
               Solomon
               to
               keepers
               gave
               in
               charge
               ;
            
             
               Each
               did
               a
               thousand
               silver
               pieces
               bring
            
             
               For
               fruit
               thereof
               unto
               the
               royall
               King.
               
            
          
           
             
               
                 Vers
                 .
              
               12
            
             
               'T
               is
               neere
               at
               hand
               the
               vineyard
               which
               is
               mine
               :
            
             
               (
               O
               Solomon
               )
               a
               thousand
               must
               be
               thine
               :
            
             
               For
               such
               as
               keep
               the
               fruit
               we
               will
               prepare
            
             
               (
               A
               portion
               fit
               )
               two
               hundred
               for
               their
               share
               .
            
          
           
           
             
               
                 Vers
                 .
              
               13
            
             
               All
               the
               companions
               to
               thy
               voyce
               give
               eare
               :
            
             
               O
               thou
               that
               in
               the
               gardens
               dost
               appeare
               ,
            
             
               And
               dwell
               :
               O
               therefore
               let
               my
               soule
               rejoyce
               ,
            
             
               Cause
               mee
               likewise
               to
               heare
               that
               blessed
               voyce
               :
            
          
           
             
               
                 Vers
                 .
              
               14
            
             
               Make
               hast
               belov'd
               ,
               like
               some
               yong
               hart
               or
               Roe
               ,
            
             
               Which
               do
               upon
               the
               spiced
               mountaines
               goe
               .
            
          
        
      
       
         
         
           The
           Song
           of
           MOSES
           .
           Deut.
           32.
           
        
         
           
             And
             they
             sung
             the
             Song
             of
             Moses
             ,
             and
             the
             Song
             of
             the
             Lamb.
             
          
           
             Revel
             .
             15.
             3.
             
          
        
         
           
             
               Vers
               .
            
             1
          
           
             GIve
             eare
             a
             while
             you
             heavens
             high
          
           
             To
             that
             I
             have
             in
             hand
             ,
          
           
             Thou
             earth
             below
             thy self
             apply
          
           
             My
             words
             to
             understand
             .
          
        
         
           
             
               Vers
               .
            
             2
          
           
             As
             bigger
             raine
             from
             clouds
             doth
             fall
          
           
             My
             speech
             powre
             out
             I
             will
             ,
          
           
             And
             as
             the
             drops
             of
             dew
             so
             small
             ,
          
           
             So
             shall
             my
             words
             distill
             .
          
        
         
           
             
               Vers
               .
            
             3
          
           
             As
             gentle
             raine
             ,
             that
             glads
             the
             flowers
          
           
             which
             plesant
             Garden
             yeelds
             ;
          
           
             And
             as
             the
             stronger
             streames
             of
             showers
             ,
          
           
             Which
             wash
             the
             Grass
             ,
             in
             Fields
             ;
          
           
             The
             matter
             which
             I
             shall
             record
             ,
          
           
             Is
             great
             Jehovah's
             name
             ,
          
           
             Give
             Glory
             therefore
             ,
             to
             the
             Lord
          
           
             By
             listning
             to
             the
             same
             .
          
        
         
           
             
               Vers
               .
            
             4
          
           
             The
             most
             strong
             God
             hath
             perfected
          
           
             His
             workes
             ,
             which
             shew
             his
             might
             ,
          
           
             And
             all
             his
             wayes
             are
             ordered
          
           
             By
             Judgment
             ,
             and
             by
             Right
             :
          
           
             In
             word
             so
             faithfull
             him
             account
             ,
          
           
             As
             workes
             do
             shew
             him
             strong
             ,
          
           
             As
             he
             in
             Judgment
             doth
             surmount
             ,
          
           
             So
             far
             is
             he
             from
             wrong
             :
          
        
         
           
           
             
               Vers
               .
            
             5
          
           
             It
             s
             of
             themselves
             that
             they
             be
             bad
          
           
             Who
             spilt
             themselves
             with
             Sin
             ,
          
           
             A
             Bastard
             brood
             ,
             and
             Nation
             mad
             ,
          
           
             Not
             sonnes
             ,
             nor
             ought
             of
             kinn
             .
          
        
         
           
             
               Vers
               .
            
             6
          
           
             Is
             this
             the
             thanks
             ,
             O
             folk
             unwise
             ,
          
           
             You
             for
             your
             God
             prepar'd
             ,
          
           
             Ye
             foolish
             men
             ,
             is
             this
             your
             guise
             ,
          
           
             Your
             Lord
             thus
             to
             reward
             :
          
           
             What
             ,
             is
             he
             not
             thy
             Father
             dear
             ,
          
           
             Who
             thee
             most
             dearly
             bought
             ,
          
           
             Who
             made
             thee
             of
             his
             mercy
             meer
             ,
          
           
             And
             faishion'd
             thee
             of
             nought
             ?
          
        
         
           
             
               Vers
               .
            
             7
          
           
             The
             day
             's
             forepast
             remember
             well
             ,
          
           
             Time
             's
             gone
             to
             mind
             recall
             ;
          
           
             Ask
             Grand-syres
             old
             ,
             and
             they
             will
             tell
             ,
          
           
             And
             aged
             Fathers
             all
             .
          
        
         
           
             
               Vers
               .
            
             8
          
           
             The
             highest
             God
             when
             he
             of
             old
          
           
             Gave
             Nations
             each
             their
             share
             ,
          
           
             Alotting
             Adam's
             Sonnes
             to
             hold
          
           
             Their
             Portions
             as
             they
             are
             :
          
           
             The
             Borders
             of
             the
             People
             he
          
           
             Appointed
             out
             to
             lie
             ,
          
           
             As
             numbred
             now
             the
             issues
             be
          
           
             Of
             Jacobs
             Progenie
             .
          
        
         
           
             
               Vers
               .
            
             9
          
           
             Jehovahs
             portion
             is
             his
             stock
          
           
             That
             chose
             he
             for
             his
             own
             ,
          
           
             His
             Lot
             is
             fell
             in
             Jacobs
             Flocks
          
           
             His
             Heritage
             alone
             .
          
        
         
           
             
               Vers
               .
            
             10
          
           
             In
             midst
             of
             wastfull
             Wilderness
             ,
          
           
             He
             there
             forlorn
             him
             found
             ,
          
           
           
             In
             place
             of
             dolefull
             barrenness
             ,
          
           
             A
             roaring
             fruitless
             ground
             :
          
           
             He
             led
             him
             like
             a
             skilful
             guide
             ,
          
           
             And
             taught
             him
             carefully
             ,
          
           
             And
             from
             all
             perill
             did
             him
             hide
             ,
          
           
             As
             apple
             of
             his
             Eye
             .
          
        
         
           
             
               Vers
               .
            
             12
          
           
             As
             Eagle
             moves
             her
             birds
             to
             fly
             ,
          
           
             By
             fluttering
             ore
             her
             nest
             ,
          
           
             Shoots
             out
             her
             wing
             ,
             lifts
             up
             on
             high
          
           
             Her
             brood
             she
             bears
             to
             rest
             ;
          
        
         
           
             
               Vers
               .
            
             12
          
           
             Even
             so
             the
             Lord
             ,
             and
             none
             beside
          
           
             Jehovah
             he
             alone
          
           
             Led
             him
             about
             ,
             and
             other
             guide
          
           
             Or
             God
             with
             him
             was
             none
             .
          
        
         
           
             
               Vers
               .
            
             13
          
           
             He
             bare
             him
             to
             the
             highest
             hills
          
           
             To
             eat
             the
             fruits
             in
             field
             ,
          
           
             And
             suck
             the
             hony
             which
             distills
          
           
             From
             stone
             ,
             and
             Oyle
             Rocks
             yeeld
             .
          
        
         
           
             
               Vers
               .
            
             14
          
           
             To
             feed
             on
             butter
             of
             the
             Kine
             ,
          
           
             And
             Milk
             of
             fruitfull
             Sheep
             :
          
           
             Fat
             Lambs
             ,
             and
             Rams
             ,
             and
             Kids
             which
             clime
          
           
             on
             Bashan
             hill
             ,
             so
             steep
             :
          
           
             The
             grains
             of
             purest
             Wheat
             for
             bread
             ,
          
           
             He
             him
             alow'd
             to
             have
             :
          
           
             The
             Grape
             's
             sweet
             bloud
             ,
             and
             liquor
             red
          
           
             For
             drink
             to
             him
             he
             gave
             .
          
        
         
           
             
               Vers
               .
            
             15
          
           
             But
             he
             full
             fed
             ,
             began
             to
             kick
          
           
             With
             heel
             ,
             and
             spurn
             full
             hard
             ,
          
           
             So
             gross
             thou
             art
             ,
             and
             brawnd
             so
             thick
             ,
          
           
             And
             laded
             so
             with
             lard
             :
          
           
           
             Eft
             soon
             therefore
             did
             he
             forsake
          
           
             The
             God
             which
             life
             him
             gave
             .
          
           
             And
             of
             the
             Lord
             no
             count
             did
             make
          
           
             Who
             him
             from
             death
             did
             save
             .
          
        
         
           
             
               Vers
               .
            
             16
          
           
             They
             him
             provok'd
             to
             jelousie
          
           
             With
             gods
             of
             Nations
             strange
             ;
          
           
             And
             did
             through
             their
             idolatrie
          
           
             His
             love
             to
             hatred
             change
             ,
          
        
         
           
             
               Vers
               .
            
             17
          
           
             They
             serv'd
             such
             gods
             they
             never
             knew
             ,
          
           
             Not
             gods
             but
             fiends
             they
             were
             ,
          
           
             A
             sort
             of
             start
             up
             gods
             and
             new
             ,
          
           
             Whom
             Fathers
             did
             not
             feare
             .
          
        
         
           
             
               Vers
               .
            
             18
          
           
             The
             mighty
             Lord
             thou
             hast
             forgot
             ,
          
           
             Who
             thee
             of
             love
             begate
             ,
          
           
             And
             thou
             thy
             god
             remembrest
             not
             ,
          
           
             Whose
             hand
             did
             thee
             create
             .
          
        
         
           
             
               Vers
               .
            
             19
          
           
             The
             Lord
             was
             angry
             for
             to
             see
          
           
             His
             children
             to
             offend
             :
          
        
         
           
             
               Vers
               .
            
             20
          
           
             From
             them
             my
             face
             I
             will
             (
             said
             hee
             )
          
           
             Turne
             back
             ,
             and
             see
             their
             end
             :
          
           
             For
             sure
             a
             froward
             nation
             ,
          
           
             And
             overthwart
             they
             are
             ,
          
           
             A
             Faithlesse
             generation
          
           
             From
             truth
             removed
             far
             .
          
        
         
           
             
               Vers
               .
            
             21
          
           
             With
             that
             which
             is
             not
             God
             ,
             they
             mee
          
           
             Provoke
             to
             Jealousie
             ,
          
           
             Me
             to
             displease
             in
             love
             they
             be
          
           
             With
             every
             vanity
             .
          
           
             To
             Jealousie
             I
             will
             them
             move
          
           
             By
             men
             not
             great
             nor
             gay
             ,
          
           
           
             I
             mean
             their
             patience
             for
             to
             prove
          
           
             By
             some
             as
             mad
             as
             they
             .
          
        
         
           
             
               Vers
               .
            
             22
          
           
             For
             fire
             is
             kindled
             in
             my
             fume
             ,
          
           
             Which
             burnes
             to
             hel's
             deep
             pit
             ,
          
           
             The
             earths
             increase
             for
             to
             consume
          
           
             And
             mountain
             roots
             with
             it
             .
          
        
         
           
             
               Vers
               .
            
             23
          
           
             My
             plagues
             on
             them
             I
             will
             bestow
             ,
          
           
             Mine
             arrows
             I
             will
             spend
             .
          
        
         
           
             
               Vers
               .
            
             24
          
           
             My
             wrath
             by
             hunger
             some
             shall
             know
             ,
          
           
             By
             heat
             ,
             shall
             others
             end
             ▪
          
           
             A
             bitter
             plague
             appoint
             I
             shall
          
           
             With
             teeth
             of
             beast
             to
             teare
             :
          
           
             The
             serpents
             which
             in
             dust
             do
             crawle
          
           
             For
             them
             their
             stings
             shall
             beare
             .
          
        
         
           
             
               Vers
               .
            
             25
          
           
             The
             sword
             without
             shall
             overtwrow
          
           
             In
             chambers
             fear
             shall
             slay
          
           
             Young
             men
             ,
             young
             maids
             ,
             babes
             ,
             him
             also
             ,
          
           
             Whose
             head
             for
             age
             is
             gray
             .
          
        
         
           
             
               Vers
               .
            
             26
          
           
             I
             said
             I
             sure
             would
             havock
             make
             ,
          
           
             And
             scatter
             them
             abroad
             ,
          
           
             So
             that
             their
             names
             should
             quite
             forsake
          
           
             The
             place
             of
             their
             aboad
             .
          
        
         
           
             
               Vers
               .
            
             27
          
           
             But
             that
             I
             fear
             their
             foes
             fell
             band
             ,
          
           
             Would
             boast
             and
             brag
             it
             out
             ,
          
           
             And
             say
             it
             was
             our
             mighty
             hand
             ,
          
           
             That
             brought
             this
             work
             about
             .
          
        
         
           
             
               Vers
               .
            
             28
          
           
             A
             nation
             sensless
             sure
             are
             they
             ,
          
           
             No
             whit
             for
             to
             amend
             .
          
        
         
           
             
               Vers
               .
            
             29
          
           
             For
             were
             they
             wise
             ,
             then
             would
             they
             weigh
             ,
          
           
             And
             marke
             their
             latter
             end
             .
          
        
         
           
           
             
               Vers
               .
            
             30
          
           
             How
             should
             one
             man
             a
             thousand
             chase
             ,
          
           
             And
             two
             ten
             thousand
             foyle
             ,
          
           
             Except
             their
             God
             drew
             back
             his
             Grace
             ,
          
           
             And
             sold
             them
             to
             the
             spoule
             .
          
        
         
           
             
               Vers
               .
            
             31
          
           
             For
             with
             our
             God
             ,
             their
             Gods
             no
             whit
             ▪
          
           
             Are
             once
             to
             be
             compar'd
             :
          
           
             No
             though
             our
             deadliest
             foes
             should
             sit
          
           
             The
             Judgment
             to
             award
             .
          
        
         
           
             
               Vers
               .
            
             32
          
           
             Their
             grapes
             ,
             are
             grapes
             of
             bitter
             gall
             ,
          
           
             Their
             〈◊〉
             cruell
             death
             ;
          
        
         
           
             
               Vers
               .
            
             33
          
           
             Their
             wine
             ,
             they
             Dragons
             venome
             call
             ,
          
           
             And
             Aspes
             most
             deadly
             breath
             .
          
        
         
           
             
               Vers
               .
            
             34
          
           
             And
             is
             not
             this
             repos'd
             in
             store
             ,
          
           
             And
             treasur'd
             up
             with
             me
             :
          
           
             Yea
             sealed
             sure
             with
             many
             more
             ,
          
           
             So
             sure
             as
             sure
             can
             be
             .
          
        
         
           
             
               Vers
               .
            
             35
          
           
             Revenge
             ,
             and
             recompence
             mine
             are
             ,
          
           
             Their
             foot
             in
             time
             shall
             slide
             ,
          
           
             Their
             day
             of
             ruine
             is
             not
             far
             ,
          
           
             Their
             Judgment
             stays
             no
             bide
             .
          
        
         
           
             
               Vers
               .
            
             39
          
           
             Yet
             God
             shall
             for
             his
             folk
             repent
             ,
          
           
             And
             Judg
             their
             cause
             alone
          
           
             When
             as
             their
             strength
             ,
             and
             power
             is
             spent
             ,
          
           
             And
             all
             their
             hope
             is
             gone
             .
          
        
         
           
             
               Vers
               .
            
             37
          
           
             When
             once
             he
             may
             begin
             to
             say
             ,
          
           
             Where
             now
             is
             all
             their
             boast
             ,
          
           
             Where
             are
             those
             Gods
             which
             were
             their
             stay
          
           
             On
             whom
             they
             trusted
             most
             .
          
        
         
           
             
               Vers
               .
            
             38
          
           
             Which
             ate
             their
             sacrificed
             fall
          
           
             And
             drank
             their
             offred
             wine
             ▪
          
           
           
             Let
             them
             rise
             up
             ,
             and
             help
             ;
             for
             that
          
           
             They
             need
             no
             help
             of
             mine
             .
          
        
         
           
             
               Vers
               .
            
             39
          
           
             No
             God
             besides
             me
             ,
             can
             be
             found
             ,
          
           
             Behold
             I
             ,
             I
             am
             he
             ,
          
           
             I
             kill
             ,
             I
             save
             ,
             I
             heale
             ,
             I
             wound
             ,
          
           
             None
             ,
             none
             can
             hide
             from
             me
             .
          
        
         
           
             
               Vers
               .
            
             40
          
           
             Mine
             hand
             to
             Heaven
             up
             I
             stretch
             ,
          
           
             And
             swear
             ,
             I
             live
             for
             ay
             .
          
        
         
           
             
               Vers
               .
            
             41
          
           
             My
             glittering
             sword
             〈…〉
          
           
             And
             whet
             ,
             I
             home
             〈…〉
          
           
             If
             once
             on
             Judgment
             I
             〈…〉
          
           
             My
             wrath
             on
             foes
             shall
             〈◊〉
          
           
             Mine
             haters
             then
             shall
             understand
             ,
          
           
             I
             can
             regard
             them
             all
             .
          
        
         
           
             
               Vers
               .
            
             42
          
           
             My
             shafts
             I
             shall
             make
             drunk
             in
             blood
             ,
          
           
             My
             sword
             shall
             flesh
             devour
             .
          
           
             On
             slain
             and
             spar'd
             when
             I
             think
             good
          
           
             My
             wrath
             on
             them
             to
             powre
             .
          
        
         
           
             
               Vers
               .
            
             43
          
           
             Ye
             Nations
             with
             his
             Church
             him
             praise
             ,
          
           
             For
             you
             it
             will
             be
             good
             :
          
           
             For
             sure
             it
             is
             he
             will
             alwaies
          
           
             Avenge
             his
             servants
             blood
             .
          
           
             His
             enemies
             shall
             feel
             his
             hand
          
           
             In
             vengeance
             more
             and
             more
             ,
          
           
             But
             for
             his
             people
             ,
             and
             his
             land
          
           
             He
             mercy
             hath
             in
             store
             .
          
        
         
           FINIS
           .
        
         
      
    
     
       
         Notes, typically marginal, from the original text
         
           Notes for div A27984-e270
           
             2
             Chap.
             7
             
          
           
             ch
             .
             4.
             2.
             
          
           
             4.
             ch
             .
             5.
             
          
           
             3.
             ch
             .
             5