LO here a little volume, but great Book 
 A nest of new-born sweets; 
 Whose native fires disdaining 
 To ly thus folded, and complaining 
 Of these ignoble sheets, 
 Affect more comly bands 
 (Fair one) from the kind hands 
 And confidently look 
 To find the rest 
Of a rich binding in your Brest. 
It is, in one choise handfull, heavenn; and all 
Heavn?s Royall host; incamp?t thus small 
To prove that true schooles use to tell, 
Ten thousand Angels in one point can dwell. 
It is love?s great artillery 
Which here contracts itself, and comes to ly 
Close couch?t in their white bosom: and from thence 
As from a snowy fortresse of defence, 
Against their ghostly foes to take their part, 
And fortify the hold of their chast heart. 
It is an armory of light 
Let constant use but keep it bright, 
 You?l find it yeilds 
To holy hands and humble hearts 
 More swords and sheilds 
Then sin hath snares, or Hell hath darts. 
 Only be sure 
 The hands be pure 
That hold these weapons; and the eyes 
Those of turtles, chast and true; 
 Wakefull and wise; 
Here is a freind shall fight for you, 
Hold but this book before their heart; 
Let prayer alone to play his part, 
 But ô the heart 
 That studyes this high Art 
 Must be a sure house-keeper 
 And yet no sleeper. 
 Dear soul, be strong. 
 Mercy will come e?re long 
And bring his bosom fraught with blessings, 
Flowers of never fading graces 
To make immortall dressings 
For worthy soules, whose wise embraces 
Store up themselves for Him, who is alone 
The Spouse of Virgins and the Virgin?s son. 
But if the noble Bridegroom, when he come 
Shall find the loytering Heart from home; 
 Leaving her chast aboad 
 To gadde abroad 
Among the gay mates of the god of flyes; 
To take her pleasure and to play 
And keep the devill?s holyday; 
To dance th?sunshine of some smiling 
 But beguiling 
Spheares of sweet and sugred Lyes, 
 Some slippery Pair 
Of false, perhaps as fair, 
Flattering but forswearing eyes; 
Doubtlesse some other heart 
 Will gett the start 
Mean while, and stepping in before 
Will take possession of that sacred store 
Of hidden sweets and holy ioyes. 
Words which are not heard with Eares 
(Those tumultuous shops of noise) 
Effectuall wispers, whose still voice 
The soul it selfe more feeles then heares; 
Amorous languishments; luminous trances; 
Sights which are not seen with eyes; 
Spirituall and soul-peircing glances 
Whose pure and subtil lightning flyes 
Home to the heart, and setts the house on fire 
And melts it down in sweet desire 
 Yet does not stay 
To ask the windows leave to passe that way; 
Delicious Deaths; soft exalations 
Of soul; dear and divine annihilations; 
 A thousand unknown rites 
Of ioyes and rarefy?d delights; 
A hundred thousand goods, glories, and graces, 
 And many a mystick thing 
 Which the divine embraces 
Of the deare spouse of spirits with them will bring 
 For which it is no shame 
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) 
 Doubtlesse he will unload 
 Himself some other where, 
 And poure abroad 
 His pretious sweets 
On the fair soul whom first he meets. 
O fair, ô fortunate! O riche, ô dear! 
O happy and thrice happy she 
 Selected dove 
 Who ere she be, 
 Whose early love 
 With winged vowes 
Makes hast to meet her morning spouse 
And close with his immortall kisses. 
Happy indeed, who never misses 
To improve that pretious hour, 
 And every day 
 Seize her sweet prey 
All fresh and fragrant as he rises 
Dropping with a baulmy Showr 
A delicious dew of spices; 
O let the blissfull heart hold fast 
Her heavnly arm-full, she shall tast 
At once ten thousand paradises; 
 She shall have power 
 To rifle and deflour 
The rich and roseall spring of those rare sweets 
Which with a swelling bosome there she meets 
 Boundles and infinite 
 Bottomles treasures 
Of pure inebriating pleasures 
Happy proof! she shal discover 
 What ioy, what blisse, 
How many Heav?ns at once it is 
To have her God become her Lover.