Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, EMBLEM: 3, by FRANCIS QUARLES

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EMBLEM: 3, by             Poet's Biography
First Line: Ev'n like two little bank-dividing brooks
Last Line: To thr gates of hell; triumphed, and fetched a crown.
Variant Title(s): Canticle;the Loved And The Beloved;a Mystical Ecstasy;my Beloved Is Mine And I Am His
Subject(s): Love; Religion; Theology

E'en like two little bank-dividing brooks,
That wash the pebbles with their wanton streams,
And having ranged and searched a thousand nooks,
Meet both at length in silver-breasted Thames,
Where in a greater current they conjoin:
So I my Best-Beloved's am; so He is mine.
E'en so we met; and after long pursuit,
E'en so we joined; we both became entire;
No need for either to renew a suit,
For I was flax and he was flames of fire:
Our firm-united souls did more than twine:
So I my Best-Beloved's am; so He is mine.
If all those glittering Monarchs that command
The servile quarters of this earthly ball,
Should tender, in exchange, their shares af land,
I would not change my fortunes for them all:
Their wealth is but a counter to my coin:
The world's but theirs; but my Beloved's mine.
Nay more, if the fair Thespian ladies all
Should heap together their diviner treasure,
That treasure should be deemed a price too small
To buy a minute's lease of half my pleasure.
'Tis not the sacred wealth of all the Nine
Can buy my heart from Him, or His from being mine.
Nor time, nor place, nor chance, nor death, can bow
My least desires unto the least remove;
He's firmly mine by oath, I His by vow;
He's mine by faith, and I am His by love;
He's mine by water, I am His by wine;
Thus I my best beloved's am; thus He is mine.
He is my altar; I His holy place;
I am His guest, and he my living food;
I'm His penitence, He mine by grace;
I'm His by purchase, He is mine by blood.
He's my supporting elm, and I His vine;
Thus I my best beloved's am; and thus He is mine.
He gives me wealth, I give him all my vows;
I give Him somngs, He gives me length of days;
With wreaths of grace He crowns my conq'ring brows,
And I His temples with a crown of praise;
Which He accepts as an everlasting sign
That I am my best beloved's am, and He is mine.

Epigram 3

Sing, Hymen, to my soul: what, lost and found?
Welcomed, espoused, enjoyed so soon and crowned!
He did but climb the cross, and then came down
To thr gates of hell; triumphed, and fetched a crown.

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