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When that this Bird of Paradise put in

The Wicker Cage (my Corps) to tweedle3 praise Had peckt the Fruite forbad: and so did fling

Away its Food; and lost its golden dayes;

It fell into Celestiall Famine sore:
And never could attain a morsell more.

Alas! alas! Poore Bird, what wilt thou doe?

The Creatures field no food for Souls e're gave..
And if thou knock at Angells dores they show
An Empty Barrell: they no soul bread have.
Alas! Poore Bird, the Worlds White Loafe is done.
And cannot yield thee here the smallest Crumb.

In this sad state, Gods Tender Bowells1 run

Out streams of Grace: and he to end all strife
The Purest Wheate in Heaven, his deare-dear Son
Grinds, and kneads up into this Bread of Life.

Which Bread of Life from Heaven down came and stands
Disht on thy Table up by Angells Hands.

Did God mould up this Bread in Heaven, and bake,
Which from his Table came, and to thine goeth?
Doth he bespeake thee thus, This Soule Bread take.
Come Eate thy fill of this thy Gods White Loafe?
Its Food too fine for Angells, yet come, take
And Eate thy fill. Its Heavens Sugar Cake.

What Grace is this knead in this Loafe? This thing
Souls are but petty things it to admire.

Yee Angells, help: This fill would to the brim

Heav'ns whelm'd-down Chrystall meele Bowle, yea and higher. This Bread of Life dropt in thy mouth, doth Cry.

Eate, Eate me, Soul, and thou shalt never dy.

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The Glory of and Grace in
the Church set out

Come now behold

Within this Knot What Flowers do grow:
Spanglde like gold:

Whence Wreaths of all Perfumes do flow.

3. I.e., twiddle, here signifying "warble," in reference to the bird of paradise, his soul.

4. Here referring to a supposed inward center of compassion.

5. Clump.

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Most Curious Colours of all sorts you shall
With all Sweet Spirits s[c]ent. Yet thats not all.

Oh! Look, and finde

These Choicest Flowers most richly sweet
Are Disciplinde

With Artificiall Angells meet.8

An heap of Pearls is precious: but they shall
When set by Art Excell: Yet that's not all.

Christ's Spirit showers

Down in his Word, and Sacraments

Upon these Flowers

The Clouds of Grace Divine Contents.

Such things of Wealthy Blessings on them fall
As make them sweetly thrive: Yet that's not all.

Yet Still behold!

All flourish not at once. We see

While some Unfold

Their blushing Leaves, some buds there bee.
Here's Faith, Hope, Charity in flower, which call
On yonders in the Bud. Yet that's not all.

But as they stand

Like Beauties reeching in perfume

A Divine Hand

Doth hand them up to Glories room:

Where Each in sweet'ned Songs all Praises shall
Sing all ore Heaven for aye. And that's but all.

1682

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9. Cf. "reeking"; an obsolete meaning was "to emit sweet odors."

1. Peevish, ill-humored. Cf. "pet,"

1. 17.

Whom yet thy whorle2 pins did not clasp
Lest he should fling

His sting.

But as affraid, remote

Didst stand hereat

And with thy little fingers stroke

And gently tap

His back.

Thus gently him didst treate

Lest he should pet,

And in a froppish,3 waspish heate
Should greatly fret
Thy net.

Whereas the silly Fly,

Caught by its leg

Thou by the throate tookst hastily,

And 'hinde the head

Bite Dead.

This goes to pot, that not

Nature doth call.4

Strive not above what strength hath got

Lest in the brawle

Thou fall.

This Frey seems thus to us.

Hells Spider gets

His intrails spun to whip Cords thus

And wove to nets

And sets.

To tangle Adams race

In's stratigems

To their Destructions, spoil'd, made base

By venom things

Damn'd Sins.

But mighty, Gracious Lord

Communicate

Thy Grace to breake the Cord, afford

2. The whorl, or small flywheel of the spindle, whose "pins" secure the spinning thread, as the whirling legs of the spider enmesh his victim.

3. Fretful.

4. that not / Nature doth call: I.e., he "goes to pot" who does not call upon "Natural Reason," which, in the Puri

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tan Covenant theology, was man's inherent endowment of capacity to know God's Truth.

5. I.e., fray, or affray, here meaning "attack."

6. Tough cord, now of hemp, formerly of animal entrails, like catgut.

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Lord, art thou at the Table Head above
Meat, Med'cine, sweetness, sparkling Beautys to
Enamour Souls with Flaming Flakes of Love,
And not my Trencher,8 nor my Cup o'reflow?
Be n't I a bidden Guest? Oh! sweat mine Eye.
Oreflow with Teares: Oh! draw thy fountains dry.

Shall I not smell thy sweet, oh! Sharons Rose?
Shall not mine Eye salute thy Beauty? Why?
Shall thy sweet leaves their Beautious sweets upclose?
As halfe ashamde my sight should on them ly?
Woe's me! for this my sighs shall be in grain
Offer'd on Sorrows Altar for the same.

Had not my Soule's thy Conduit, Pipes stopt bin
With mud, what Ravishment would'st thou Convay?

Let Graces Golden Spade dig till the Spring
Of tears arise, and cleare this filth away.

Lord, let thy Spirit raise my sighings till

These Pipes my soule do with thy sweetness fill.

Earth once was Paradise of Heaven below

Till inkefac'd sin had it with poyson stockt
And Chast this Paradise away into

Heav'ns upmost Loft, and it in Glory Lockt.
But thou, sweet Lord, hast with thy golden Key
Unlock[t] the Doore, and made a golden day.

Once at thy Feast, I saw thee Pearle-like stand

"Tween Heaven, and Earth where Heavens Bright glory all

7. In the Song of Solomon, the bride's announcement of her readiness. Mystical religious writers frequently substituted Christ and the worshiper in "sanctifica

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tion" instead of marriage. Cf. the note to the epigraph of "The Experience." 8. Wooden platter.

In streams fell on thee, as a floodgate and,

Like Sun Beams through thee on the World to Fall.
Oh! sugar sweet then! My Deare sweet Lord, I see
Saints Heavens-lost Happiness restor❜d by thee.

Shall Heaven, and Earth's bright Glory all up lie

Like Sun Beams bundled in the sun, in thee?
Dost thou sit Rose at Table Head, where I
Do sit, and Carv'st no morsell sweet for mee?
So much before, so little now! Sprindge, Lord,
Thy Rosie Leaves, and me their Glee afford.
Shall not thy Rose my Garden fresh perfume?
Shall not thy Beauty my dull Heart assaile?
Shall not thy golden gleams run through this gloom?
Shall my black Velvet Mask thy fair Face Vaile?
Pass o're my Faults: shine forth, bright sun: arise
Enthrone thy Rosy-selfe within mine Eyes.

1683

[TWO MEDITATIONS ON "THE SONG
OF SOLOMON," CANTICLE VI]1

Meditation 142, Second Series

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Canticles VI: 9. My Dove is One the onely One of her mother the Choice
One of her that bare her etc.

What shall I say, my Deare Deare Lord? most Deare
Of thee! My choisest words when spoke are then

Articulated Breath, soon disappeare.

If wrote are but the Drivle of my pen

Beblackt with my inke, soon torn worn out unless
Thy Holy Spirit be their inward Dress.

What, what a Say is this. Thy Spouse doth rise.
Thy Dove all Undefiled doth excell

9. "Spread out, extend over" [John-
son's note].

1. Among the biblical texts which inspired Taylor's "Preparatory Meditations" the Canticles, with their luxuriant tonality and imagery, moved him most deeply. Solomon's eight Canticles, independently striking, are at the same time an integrated totality of the erotic experience as sublime and indispensable to the human condition. Early Christian theology retained this work in the canon

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by a mystical sublimation of the erotic to the level at which the love of God, of Christ and His Church, and mankind coexist. Solomon's sixth Canticle reconstructs his young love for the Shulamite girl, early lost but passionately remembered. For this Canticle alone Taylor wrote twenty poems in the Second Series, of which we represent the dominant theme in "Meditation 142" and "Meditation 146."

The story of the Shulamite appears in

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