Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, PREPARATORY MEDITATIONS, 2D SERIES: 98, by EDWARD TAYLOR


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

PREPARATORY MEDITATIONS, 2D SERIES: 98, by                 Poet Analysis     Poet's Biography
First Line: A vine, my lord, a noble vine indeed
Last Line: Then I will sing thy love better than wine.
Subject(s): Puritans In Literature; Vines And Vineyards


A Vine, my Lord, a noble Vine indeed
Whose juyce makes brisk my heart to sing thy Wine.
I have read of the Vine of Sibmahs breed,
And Wine of Hesbon, yea and Sodoms Vine,
All which raise Clouds up when their Liquour's High
In any one: but thine doth Clarify.

The Choicest Vine, the royallst grape that rose,
Or ere in Cana'ns Vinyard did take Root,
Did Emblemize thy selfe the True Vine those
Are not like thee for Nature, nor for fruite.
Thy noble royall nature Ever blesst
Produceth spiced juyce by far the best.

The Vine deckt in her blosom frindge the Aire
With sweet perfume. O! Smell of Lebanon!
Her Grapes when pounded and presst hard (hard fare)
Bleed out both blood and Spirits leaving none
Which too much tooke, the brain doth too much tole,
Tho't smacks the Palate, merry makes the Soule.

But oh! my Lord, thou Zions Vine most deare,
Didst send the Wealthi'st juyce and Spirits up to
Thy Grape which prest in Zions Wine fat Geere
Did yield the Welthi'st wine that ere did flow.
Its Loves Rich liquour spice't with Grace even thine,
And thus thy love is better far than wine.

This Wine thy Love bleeds from thy grape, how sweet?
To spiritualize the life in every part.
How full of Spirits? And of a spirituall reech,
To th' blood and Spirits of the gracious heart?
How warming to the Chilly person grown?
And Cordiall to spirituall feeble one?

How sweet? how warm? how Cordiall is thy Love
That bleeds thy grapes sweet Juyce into the Soule?
How brings it Grace, and Heaven from above.
And drops them in the Heart its Wassell bowle?
Wine th'Nectar of all juyces with its sapor
Compared to thy love is but a Vaper.

Its not like other wine which took too much,
Whose Spirits vapor. And do wise men foole.
But this the more is tooke, the Better such
Servants and Service best, best grace the Schoole.
Lord tun this Wine in me and make my Savour
Be ever richly filled with its flavour.

Lord make mee Cask, and thy rich Love its Wine.
Impregnate with its Spirits, Lord, my heart.
And make its heat my heart and blood refine,
And Sweetness sweeten me in ery part.
Give me to drinke the juyce of this true Vine
Then I will sing thy Love better than Wine.





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