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PREPARATORY MEDITATIONS, 2D SERIES: 115, by                 Poet Analysis     Poet's Biography
First Line: What art thou mine? Am I espoused to thee?
Last Line: Loaded with praise that to thyselfe belong.
Subject(s): Puritans In Literature


What art thou mine? Am I espousd to thee?
What honour's this? It is more bright Renown.
I ought to glory more in this sweet glee
Than if I'd wore greate Alexanders Crown.
Oh! make my Heart loaded with Love ascend
Up to thyselfe, its bridegroom, bright, and Friend.

Her whole delight, and her Belov'de thou art.
Oh! Lovely thou: Oh! grudg my Soule, I say,
Thou straitend standst, lockt up to Earths fine parts
Course matter truly, yellow earth, Hard Clay.
Why should these Clayey faces be the keyes
T'lock, and unlock thy love up as they please?

Lord, make thy Holy Word, the golden Key
My Soule to lock and make its bolt to trig
Before the same, and Oyle the same to play
As thou dost move them off and On to jig.
The ripest Fruits that my affections beare
I offer, thee. Oh! my Beloved faire.

Thou standst the brightest object in bright glory
More shining than the shining sun to 'lure.
Unto thyselfe the purest Love. The Stories
Within my Soul can hold refinde most pure
In flaming bundles polishd all with Grace
Most sparklingly about thyselfe t'imbrace.

The most refined Love in Graces mint
In rapid flames is best bestowd on thee
The brightest: metall with Divinest print
Thy tribute is, and ever more shall bee.
The Loving Spouse and thou her Loved Sweet
Make Lovely Joy when she and thee do meet:

Thou art so lovely, pitty 'tis indeed
That any drop of love the Heart can hold
Should be held back from thee, or should proceed
To drop on other Objects, young, or old.
Best things go best together: best agree:
But best are badly usd, by bad that bee.

Thou all o're Lovely art, Most lovely Thou:
Thy Spouse, the best of Loving Ones: Her Love,
The Best of Love: and this she doth avow
Thyselfe. And thus she doth thyself approve.
That object robs thee of thy due that wares
Thy Spouses Love. With thee none in it shares.

Lord fill my heart with Grace refining Love.
Be thou my onely Well-Belov'd I pray.
And make my Heart with all its Love right move
Unto thyselfe, and all her Love display.
My Love is then right well bestow'd, alone
When it obtains thyselfe her Lovely One.

My Best love then shall on Shoshannim play,
Like David her Sweet Musick, and thy praise
Inspire her Songs, that Glory ever may
In Sweetest tunes thy Excellency Glaze.
And thou shalt be that burden of her Song
Loaded with Praise that to thyselfe belong.





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