The tenth Canticle

Who's this, that leaning on her Friend,
Doth from the Wildernesse ascend?
Minde how I raised thee,
Eu'n where thy Mother thee conceiu'd,
where she that brought thee forth conceiu'd,
beneath an Apple-tree.

Me in thy heart engrauen beare,
And Seale-like on thy hand-wrist weare:
For Loue is strong as Death.
Fierce as the Graue is Iealousie:
The coales thereof doe burning lye;
And furious flames it hath.

Much Water, cannot coole Loues flame:
No floods haue power to quench the same.
For Loue so high is priz'd;
That, who to buy it would assay,
Though all his wealth he gaue away,
it would be all despis'd.

We haue A Sister scarcely growne,
For she is such a little one,
That yet no Breasts hath shee.
What thing shall we now vndertake,
To doe for this our Sisters sake,
If spoken for shee be?

If, that a wall she doe appeare,
We Turrets vpon her will reare,
And Pallaces of Plate:
And then with boords of Cedar-tree
Enclose, and fence her in, will we,
If that she be a Gate.

A wall already built I am:
And now my Breasts vpon the same
Doe Turret-like arise.
Since when, as one that findeth rest,
(And, is of setled peace possest)
I seemed in his eyes.

A Vineyard hath King Solomon,
This Uineyard is at Baal-hamon,
Which he to Keepers put:
And eu'ry one that therein wrought,
A thousand siluer-pieces brought,
And gaue him for the fruite.

My Vineyard which belongs to me,
Eu'n I my selfe doe ouersee.
To thee, oh Solomon,
A thousand-fold doth appertaine:
And, those that keep the same, shall gaine
Two hundred-fold for one.

Thou, whose abode the Gardens are,
(Thy Fellowes vnto thee giue eare)
Cause me to heare thy voice:
And let my Loue as swiftly goe,
As doth a Hart or nimble Roe,
Upon the Hils of Spice.