These tumultuous shops of noise Effectual whispers, whose still voice Amorous languishments, luminous trances, Whose pure and subtle lightning flies Home to the heart, and sets the house on fire; And melts it down in sweet desire: Yet does not stay To ask the windows leave to pass that way. Delicious deaths, soft exhalations. Of soul; dear and divine annihilations; Of joys, and rarified delights. A hundred thousand goods, glories, and graces, Which the divine embraces Of the dear spouse of spirits with them will bring; That dull mortality must not know a name. Of all this store Of blessings, and ten thousand more, If when He come He find the heart from home, Doubtless He will unload Himself some otherwhere, His precious sweets, On the fair soul whom first he meets. O fair! O fortunate! O rich! O dear! Whoe'er she be, Whose early love, With winged vows, Makes haste to meet her morning spouse, Happy, indeed, who never misses Seize her sweet prey, All fresh and fragrant as he rises, O, let the blessful heart hold fast She shall have power To rifle and deflower The rich and roseal spring of those rare sweets, Of pure inebriating pleasures: Happy proof she shall discover, What joy, what bliss, F How many heavens at once it is, To have a God become her lover! ON MR. G. HERBERT'S BOOK, Entitled, "The Temple of Sacred Poems,” sent to a Gentlewoman. NOW you, fair, on what you look? To kindle this His sacrifice. When your hands untie these strings, To wait upon each morning sigh, These white plumes of His He'll lend you, A HYMN TO THE NAME AND HONOUR OF THE ADMIRABLE SAINT TERESA, Foundress of the Reformation of the discalced Carmelites, both men and women; a woman for angelical height of speculation, for masculine courage of performance, more than a woman; who, yet a child, outran maturity, and durst plot a martyrdom. OVE, thou art absolute, sole Lord Those thy old soldiers, great and tall, Ripe men of martyrdom, that could reach down Speak loud, unto the face of death, Their great Lord's glorious name; to none Scarce has she learnt to lisp a name 's ногу Understave Also -2 Love then "She never undertook to know What death with love should have to do. Why, to show love, she should shed blood; Scarce has she blood enough to make A guilty sword blush for her sake;l Yet has a heart dares hope to prove How much less strong is death than love. Be love but there; let poor six years Man trembles at, we straight shall find -Love knows no nonage, nor the mind.aturity 'Tis love, not years or limbs, that can Make the martyr, or the man. Love burns Love touch'd her heart, and lo! it beats fire thirst. cred Good reason, for she breathes all fire; Since 'tis not to be had at home, But where she may a martyr be. For this unvalued diadem ;Crown |