SOURCE: "Lecture XXX: The Song of Solomon not a Regular Drama" and "Lecture XXXI: Of the Subject and Style of Solomon's Song," in Lectures on the Sacred Poetry of the Hebrews, Vol. II, 1787. Reprint by Garland Publishing, Inc., 1971, pp. 287-308, 309-44.

[In the following lectures, Lowth considers the Song of Songs as a form of dramatic poetry and suggests, after consideration of other Hebrew poetry, that the work should be read allegorically.]

Thus much with suffice for that inferior species of Dramatic Poetry, or rather that Dramatic form which may be assumed by any species of poem. The more perfect and regular Drama, that I mean which consists of a plot or fable, will demand a more elaborate investigation.

There are only two poems extant among the writings of the Hebrews which can, on the present occasion, at all be brought into question, the Song of Solomon, and the book of Job; both eminent in the highest degree for elegance, sublimity, and I am sorry to add obscurity also. The almost infinite labours of the learned have left us but little new to say upon this subject: I shall, however, proceed to inquire, with some degree of minuteness, into the form and structure of each of these poems, and into the reasons which may be alledged in favour of their claim to the appellation of regular Dramas. The opinions of other critics shall not pass unregarded, if any remarks or even conjectures occur, which may be likely to throw any light upon the present subject, or to explain or illustrate their principal beauties.

The Song of Songs (for so it is entitled either on account of the excellence of the subject, or of the composition) is an Epithalamium, or Nuptial Dialogue; or rather, if we may be allowed to give it a title more agreeable to the genius of the Hebrew, a Song of Loves. It is expressive of the utmost fervour as well as the utmost delicacy of passion, it is instinct with all the spirit and all the sweetness of affection. The principal characters are Solomon himself and his bride, who are represented speaking both in dialogue, and in soliloquy when accidentally separated. Virgins also, the companions of the bride, are introduced, who seem to be constantly upon the stage, and bear a part in the dialogue: mention too is made of young men, friends of the bridegroom, but they are mute persons. This is exactly conformable to the manners of the Hebrews, who had always a number of companions to the bridegroom, thirty of whom were present in honour of Sampson, at his nuptial feast. In the New Testament, according to the Hebrew idiom, they are called, "children (or sons) of the bride-chamber," and "friends of the bridegroom;" there too we find mention of ten virgins, who went forth to meet the bridegroom, and conduct him home: which circumstances, I think, indicate that this poem is founded upon the nuptial rites of the Hebrews, and is expressive of the forms or ceremonial of their marriages. In this opinion, indeed, the harmony of commentators is not less remarkable, [It may seem a bold undertaking, to contradict the opinion of all the commentators which has been so long established, that the principal personages of the Canticles are a bride and bridegroom during the nuptial week. As I cannot, however, reconcile the matter to my mind, I shall briefly assign the reasons of my dissent from this opinion. The first is, that no direct mention is made, during the course of this long poem, of the ceremony of marriage; nor of any one of the circumstances which attend that ceremony. Again, who can possibly imagine a bridegroom so necessitated to labour, as not to be able to appropriate a few days in his nuptial week, to the celebration of his marriage; but be compelled immediately to quit his spouse and his friends for whole days, in order to attend his cattle in the pastures? Nay, at this time of festival, he even does not return at night, but leaves his bride, to whom he appears so much attached, alone and unhappy. Or if such instances might occur in particular cases, certainly they do not afford a proper subject for a nuptial song. At the same time the bridegroom is supposed to have the care of a vineyard, and his brothers are displeased with him for having neglected it; this is so contrary to every idea of nuptial festivity, that unless we could suppose it meant in the way of burlesque, it is impossible to conceive it to have any relation to the celebration of a marriage.

There is still less reason to think, that the poem relates to the state of the parties betrothed before marriage; and there are not the smallest grounds for supposing it the description of any clandestine amour, since the transaction is described as public and legal, and the consent of parents is very plainly intimated.

It remains therefore to explain my own sentiments and these are, that the chaste passions of conjugal and domestic life are described in this poem, and that it has no relation to the celebration of nuptials. It may seem improbable to some readers, that conjugal and domestic life should afford a subject for an amorous poem; but those readers have not reflected how materially the manners of the Orientals are different from ours. Domestic life among us is, in general, a calm and settled state, void of difficulties, perplexities, suspicions, and intrigues; and a state like this rarely affords matter for such a poem. But in the East, from the nature of polygamy, that state admits more of the perplexities, jealousies, plots, and artifices of love; the scene is more varied, there is more of novelty, and consequently greater scope for invention and fancy.] than their disagreement concerning the general economy and conduct of the world, and the order and arrangement of the several parts. The present object of inquiry, however, is only whether any plot or fable be contained or represented in this poem; and upon this point, the most probable opinion is that of the celebrated Bossuet, a critic, whose profound learning will ever be acknowledged, and a scholar whose exquisite taste will ever be admired. I shall endeavour, as briefly as possible, to explain his sentiments concerning the form and conduct of this poem, whence we shall probably be enabled to decide in some measure concerning the equity of its claim to the tide of a regular Drama.

It is agreed on all parts, that the nuptial feast, as well as every other solemn rite among the Hebrews, was hebdomadal. Of this circumstance M. Bossuet has availed himself in the analysation of the poem, and he accordingly divides the whole into seven parts, corresponding to the seven days of its supposed duration. [In addition to what I remarked above, there is this circumstance, which militates against the conjecture of Bossuet, namely, that, though the nuptial banquet continues for seven days, no time appears in this poem appropriated to the banquet itself Either the bride and bridegroom are separated from, and in quest of each other, or they are enjoying a wished-for solitude; and wherever they converse with the Virgins, it is in the street or in the field, and never with the guests, or at a banquet.] The vicissitudes of day and night are marked with some degree of distinctness; he therefore makes use of these as indexes, to point to the true division of the parts. The nuptial banquet being concluded, the bride is led in the evening to her future husband; and here commences the nuptial week; for the Hebrews, in their account of time, begin always at the evening. The bridegroom, who is represented in the character of a shepherd, goes forth early in the morning to the accustomed occupations of a rural and pastoral life; the bride presently awaking, and impatient of his absence, breaks out into a soliloquy full of tenderness and anxiety, and this incident forms the exordium of the poem. The early departure of the bridegroom seems to be according to custom; hence that precaution so frequently and so anxiously repeated not to disturb his beloved:

"I adjure you, O ye daughters of Jerusalem,
"By the roes and the hinds of the field,
"That ye disturb not, neither awake
"The beloved, 'till herself be inclined."

Nor less frequent is the following exclamation of the Virgins:

"Who is she, rising up out of the desert!
"Who is she, that is seen like the morning!"

In these terms they seem to greet the bride when she first comes out of her chamber: and these several expressions have some allusion to the early time of the morning. The night is also sometimes mentioned in direct terms, and sometimes it is indirectly denoted by circumstances. If therefore any reader, admitting these indications of time, will carefully attend to them, he cannot, I think, but perceive, that the whole of the work consists of seven parts or divisions, each of which occupies the space of a day. The same critic adds, that he can discover the last day to be clearly distinguished as the sabbath; for the bridegroom does not then, as usual, go forth to his rural employments, but proceeds from the marriage-chamber into public with his bride. Such are the sentiments of this learned person; to which I am inclined to accede, not as absolute demonstration, but as a very ingenious and probable conjecture upon an extremely obscure subject: I follow them therefore as a glimmering of light, which beams forth in the midst of darkness, where it would be almost unreasonable to hope for any clearer illumination.

This opinion is the most favourable of all to those who account the Song of Solomon a regular Drama; for this arrangement seems to display, in some measure, the order and method of a theatrical representation. But if they make use of the term Dramatic according to the common acceptation of the word, this poem must be supposed to contain a fable, or entire and perfect plot or action, of a moderate extent, in which the incidents are all connected, and proceed regularly from one another, and which, after several vicissitudes, is brought to a perfect conclusion. But certainly the bare representation of a nuptial festival cannot in any respect answer to this definition. We are, it is true, very imperfectly instructed in the particular rites and ceremonies of the Hebrew marriages; but we have no reason to suppose, that in their common and usual form they were possessed of such variety and vicissitude of fortunes and events, as to afford materials for a regular plot or fable. The whole was one even tenour of joy and festivity. An unexpected incident might indeed sometimes occur to interrupt the usual order, and to produce such a change of fortune, as might afford a basis for a Dramatic story; and if any such incident is to be found in the poem at present under our consideration, it will establish its claim to that appellation. But the truth is, the keenest inspection of criticism can, throughout the whole, discover no such incident or circumstance; the state of affairs is uniformly the same from the beginning to the end; a few light fluctuations of passion excepted, such as the anxiety of absence, and the amenity and happiness which the lovers enjoy in each others presence. The bride laments the absence of her beloved; she seeks, she finds him, she brings him home; again he is lost, she seeks him again, but with different success; she complains, languishes, indites messages to be delivered to him, she indulges her passion in a full and animated description of his person. All this, however, bears no resemblance to a regular plot, nor affords the piece any fairer title to the appellation of a perfect Drama, than the Dramatic Eclogues of Theocritus and Virgil, in which the loves, the amusements, and the emulations of shepherds are depicted, and which no critic has ever classed with the regular fables of Euripides and Terence. Thus far therefore we may safely admit, that the Song of Solomon possesses indeed the Dramatic form, and therefore belongs properly to that inferior species, which was mentioned in the former part of this Lecture; but that it cannot, upon any fair grounds of reason, be accounted a regular Drama.

There is however one circumstance in which this poem bears a very near affinity to the Greek Drama: the chorus of Virgins seems in every respect congenial to the tragic chorus of the Greeks. They are constantly present, and prepared to fulfil all the duties of advice and consolation: they converse frequently with the principal characters; they are questioned by them, and they return answers to their inquiries; they take part in the whole business of the poem, and I do not find that upon any occasion they quit the scene. Some of the learned have conjectured, that Theocritus, who was contemporary with the seventy Greek translators of the Scriptures, and lived with them in the court of Ptolemy Philadelphus, was not unacquainted with the beauties of this poem, and that he has almost literally introduced some passages from it into his elegant Idylliums. It might also be suspected, that the Greek tragedians were indebted for their chorus to this poem of Solomon, were not the. probabilities on the other side much greater, that the Greeks were made acquainted with it at too late a period; and were it not evident, that the chorus of the Greeks had a very different origin, were it not evident indeed that the chorus was not added to the fable, but the fable to the chorus.

Having, in my last Lecture, briefly explained what appeared to me most probable, among the great variety of opinions which have prevailed, concerning the conduct and economy of the Song of Solomon, a question next presents itself for our investigation, not less involved in doubt and obscurity, I mean the real nature and subject of the poem. Some are of opinion, that it is so be taken altogether in a literal sense, and others esteem it wholly allegorical. There is no less disagreement also among those who consider it as allegorical; some conceive it to be no more than a simple allegory, while others place it in that class which I have denominated mystical, that, namely, which is founded upon the basis of history. I would gladly, from the first, have considered this question as foreign to my undertaking, and would have avoided it as involved in the deepest obscurity, had I not, in the former part of these Lectures, been under the necessity of remarking the connexion between the different kinds of allegory and the principles of the Sacred Poetry; had I not also found it necessary to advert to all the peculiarities of the parabolic style, the most obvious property of which is to express by certain images, chiefly adopted from natural objects, the analogy and application of which is regularly preserved, those ideas and doctrines which are more remote from common apprehension. This I cannot help considering as a matter of the utmost importance, in enabling us to understand properly the poetry of the Hebrews; and upon this point much of the present argument will be found to depend.

I shall on this, as well as upon the last occasion, proceed with that cautious reserve which I think prudent and necessary on so obscure a subject; and since certainty is not to be obtained, I shall content myself with proposing to your consideration what appears least improbable. In the first place then I confess, that by several reasons, by the general authority and consent of both the Jewish and Christian churches; and still more, by the nature and analogy of the parabolic style, I feel irresistibly inclined to that side of the question which confiders this poem as an entire allegory. Those, indeed, who have considered it in a different light; and who have objected against the inconsistency and meanness of the imagery, seem to be but little acquainted with the genius of the parabolic diction; for the removal, therefore, of these difficulties, which I find have been the cause of offence to many persons, I shall beg leave to trespass upon your attention, while I explain somewhat more accurately the nature of this allegory and its analogy with other productions of the Hebrew poets.

The narrowness and imbecility of the human mind being such, as scarcely to comprehend or attain a clear idea of any part of the Divine nature by its utmost exertions; God has condescended, in a manner, to contrast the infinity of his glory, and to exhibit it to our understandings under such imagery as our feeble optics are capable of contemplating. Thus the Almighty may be said to descend, as it were, in the Holy Scriptures, from the height of his majesty, to appear on earth in a human shape, with human senses and affections, in all respects resembling a mortal—"with human voice and human form." This kind of allegory is called anthropopathy, and occupies a considerable portion of theology, properly so called, that is, as delivered in the Holy Scriptures. The principal part of this imagery is derived from the passions; nor indeed is there any one affection or emotion of the human soul which is not, with all its circumstances, ascribed in direct terms, without any qualification whatever, to the supreme God; not excepting those in which human frailty and imperfection is most evidently displayed, anger and grief, hatred and revenge. That love also, and that of the tenderest kind, should bear a part in this Drama, is highly natural and perfectly consistent. Thus, not only the fondness of paternal affection is attributed to God, but also the force, the ardour, and the solicitude of conjugal attachment, with all the concomitant emotions, the anxiety, the tenderness, the jealousy incidental to this passion.

After all, this figure is not in the least productive of obscurity; the nature of it is better understood than that of most others; and although it be exhibited in a variety of lights, it constantly preserves its native perspicuity. A peculiar people, of the posterity of Abraham, was selected by God from among the nations, and he ratified his choice by a solemn covenant. This covenant was founded upon reciprocal conditions; on the one part love, protection, and support; on the other faith, obedience, and worship pure and devout. This is that conjugal union between God and his church; that solemn compact so frequently celebrated by almost all the Sacred writers under this image. It is indeed a remarkable instance of that species of metaphor which Aristotle calls analogical; that is, when in a proposition consisting of four ideas, the first bears the same relation to the second as the third does to the fourth, and the corresponding words may occasionally change their places without any injury to the sense. Thus in this form of expression God is supposed to bear exactly the same relation to the church as a husband to a wife; God is represented as the spouse of the church, and the church as the betrothed of God. Thus also, when the same figure is maintained with a different mode of expression, and connected with different circumstances, the relation is still the same; thus the piety of the people, their impiety, their idolatry, and rejection, stand in the same relation with respect to the sacred covenant; as chastity, modesty, immodesty, adultery, divorce, with respect to the marriage contract. And this notion is so very familiar and well understood in Scripture, that the word adultery (or whoredom) is commonly used to denote idolatrous worship, and so appropriated does it appear to this metaphorical purpose, that it very seldom occurs in its proper and literal sense.

Let us only observe how freely the sacred poets employ this image, how they dwell upon it, in how many different forms they introduce it, and how little they seem to fear exhibiting it with all its circumstances. Concerning the reconciliation of the church to Almighty God, and its restoration to the divine favour, amongst many images of similar nature, the elegant Isaiah introduces the following:

For thy husband is thy maker;
JEHOVAH, God of Hosts, is his name:
And thy Redeemer is the Holy One of Israel;
The God of the whole earth shall he be called.

And in another passage in the form of a comparison:

For as a young man weddeth a virgin,
So shall thy Restorer wed thee;
And as the bridegroom rejoiceth in his bride,
So shall thy God rejoice in thee.

The same image a little diversified, and with greater freedom of expression, as better adapted to the display of indignation, is introduced by Jeremiah, when he declaims against the defection of the Jews from the worship of the true God. Upon the same principle the former part of the prophecy of Hosea ought also to be explained; and whether that part of the prophecy be taken in the literal and historical sense, or whether it be esteemed altogether allegorical, still the nature and principles of this figure, which seems consecrated in some measure to this subject, will evidently appear. None of the Prophets, however, have applied the image with so much boldness and freedom as Ezekiel, an author of a most fervid imagination, who is little studious of elegance, or cautious of offending; insomuch, that I am under some apprehension of his incurring no inconsiderable share of censure from those over-delicate critics who have been emitted from the Gallic schools. [Nothing can be more disgusting to any person of common sense, than the arrogant pretences of our neighbours on the continent to superior refinement and civilization; and I confess, on a fair investigation, I am utterly at a loss to find in what this boasted superiority consists. Is it seen in their enlarged and liberal notions of civil government, in their toleration and general information on politics and religion, in the mildness of their punishments and the equity of their laws? Is it marked by their progress in the great and useful sciences, by their Bacons and their Boyles, their Newtons and their Lockes? Does it appear in the sublimity, the grandeur, the elegance of their poets? Or is it demonstrated by still more certain marks of civilization, by the general cleanliness, decency, and industry of the common people? Is it seen in the convenience and grandeur of their public roads, and the accommodations afforded to travellers in every part of the kingdom? Does it appear in the face of the country, the high state of cultivation, and the success and improvement of agriculture? Or lastly, is it demonstrable from the morals of the people at large, from the independence, the dignity, the probity, particularly of the trading classes of society? I know no other marks of civilization than these; and if the admirers of Gallic frippery cannot answer these questions to my satisfaction, I shall continue to give but little credit to their pretensions to extraordinary refinement and politeness.

That diversity of manners, that delicacy of conversation, which is observed by some nations, and the coarseness of others, results chiefly from the degree of intercourse which subsists between the sexes. In countries where the intercourse is free and familiar, where the sexes meet commonly in mixed companies, they accustom themselves to a greater modesty and delicacy in their conversation, which modesty is easily transferred to their composition. Such a people, therefore, with whom entertainments would seem languid and dull without the company of young women, though perhaps not free from licentiousness in their manners, will yet be chaste and delicate in their expressions. Hence arises, in a great degree, that extreme delicacy in the people of modern Europe, which can scarcely bear some of the passages in Virgil, and the chastest of the ancient poets. The case is quite different with the people of the East: for the men having scarcely any society with the unmarried women, or with the wives of others, converse together without being restrained by the blushes of females, or with their own wives, whom they regard in a very inferior light, and consequently treat with all the insolence of familiarity: the women also converse chiefly with each other; and as they are familiarly situated, are probably not less licentious. It is not extraordinary, therefore, if greater freedom of speech should prevail in those countries, and if this, when transferred into their poetry, should be found to offend our ears, which are accustomed to so much greater delicacy in conversation.]

His great freedom in the use of this image is particularly displayed in two parables, in which he describes the ingratitude of the Jews and Israelites to their great Protector, and their defection from the true worship under imagery assumed from the character of an adulterous wife, and the meretricious loves of two unchaste women. If these parables (which are put into the mouth of God himself with a direct allegorical application, and in which it must be confessed, that delicacy does not appear to be particularly studied) be well considered, I am persuaded, that the Song of Solomon (which is in every part chaste and elegant) will not appear unworthy of the divine sense in which it is usually taken, either in matter or style, or in any degree inferior either in gravity or purity to the other remains of the Sacred Poets. To these instances I may add the forty-fifth Psalm, which is a sacred Epithalamium, of the allegorical application of which, to the union between God and the church, I do not find that any doubt has hitherto been entertained; though many suspect it, and not without good reason, to have been produced upon the same occasion, and with the same relation to a real fact as the Song of Solomon. Neither ought we to omit, that the writers of the New Testament have freely admitted the same image in the same allegorical sense with their predecessors, and have finally consecrated it by their authority.

[What CHARDIN relates of the Persian poetry, may perhaps not be unworthy of the reader's notice in this place. "Debauchery and licentiousness," says he, "are the common topics of these compositions; but I must not omit remarking, that the most serious of their poets treat of the sublimest mysteries of theology, under the most licentious language, in the way of allegory, as Afez in his Kafel." Voyage de Chardin, 4to. tom. ii. cap. xiv. But respecting this matter see the arguments on both sides elegantly stated by the learned Sir William JONES. Poes. Asiaticae Comment.cap. ix.]

These reasons appear to me sufficient to remove those objections founded on the meanness of the imagery, which render many critics averse to the allegorical explanation of this poem. I shall not attempt to confirm this opinion by any internal evidence from the poem itself, as I do not scruple to confess myself deterred by the great difficulty of the undertaking. For though induced by the most ancient authority, and still more by the analogy of this with other similar allegories contained in the Hebrew writings, I am fully persuaded of the truth of what I have advanced; yet I am still apprehensive that it would be extremely difficult to establish the hypothesis by direct arguments from the internal structure of the work itself.

[Our author has treated this very difficult subject with more modesty and more address than any of the commentators; and indeed has said all that could be said, exclusive of the theological arguments in favour of the allegorical sense. I question, however, whether he will be able to remove all doubt from the mind of a cool and attentive reader; the reasons of my scepticism on this matter, I will, as a person earnestly desirous of the truth, endeavour briefly to explain; and I shall hold myself greatly indebted to that man, who shall, upon rational principles, undertake to remove my scruples.

With regard to the authority of the ancient Christian church, in a question merely depending upon the exposition of a passage in Scripture, I hold it of very little importance, not only because the exposition of Scripture does not depend upon human authority, but because the fathers, as well on account of their ignorance of the Hebrew language, as of the principles. of polite literature in general, were very inadequate to the subject, eagerly pursuing certain mystical meanings, even with respect to the clearest passages, in the explanation of which, the most enlightened of the modern commentators have refuted them. The time of the fathers was so very distant from the period when this poem was composed, that it is impossible they should have been possessed of any certain tradition concerning its purport and meaning. I should entertain very different sentiments, if I could find any mention of the Song of Songs in the New Testament; but on the most diligent examination, I have not been able to discern the slightest allusion to that poem.

The authority of the Synagogue is of still less importance in my eyes, since in other respects we have found it so little deserving of confidence in its attempts at expounding the Scriptures. Such of the Jewish writers as have treated of the Canticles lived so many ages after the time of Solomon, after the total destruction of the commonwealth and literature of the Hebrews, that they knew no more of the matter than ourselves.

With regard to the analogy of other poems, all that can be said is, that it was indeed possible enough for Solomon to celebrate the Divine love in terms analogous to the descriptive of the human affections: but it is impossible to determine by that analogy, what kind of love he intended to be the subject of this poem. Shall. we pretend to say, that his attention was wholly employed upon Sacred Poetry, and that he never celebrated in verse any of the human affections? Or, because some of the Hebrew poems celebrate the Divine goodness in terms expressive of the human passions, does it follow, that on no occasion those terms are to be taken in their literal sense?

Our author has prudently declined examining the arguments which are usually taken from the poem itself, and from its internal structure, for the purpose of establishing the allegory. It is indeed very improbable, that in so long a poem, if it were really allegorical, no vestiges, no intimation should be found to direct us to apply it to the Divine love; nothing, which does not most clearly relate to the human passion: and that too, considering it as the production of one of the Hebrew writers, who are accustomed to mix the literal sense with the allegorical in almost all their compositions of this kind. In so long an allegory one should also expect a deeper moral than usual, and one not generally obvious to be indicated: but no sober commentator has ever been able to deduce from the Canticles any other than this trite sentiment, that God loves his church, and is beloved by it. That this simple sentiment should be treated so prolixly, and nothing more distinctly revealed concerning it, who can credit, but upon the soundest basis of argument or proof? But in support of it we have only the bare position, that the Hebrew writers sometimes make use of allegorical expressions to denote the Divine love.

I am aware of the objections which are started by those who rest the matter upon theological arguments (though I cannot find that these are of great weight or utility in the present debate: for they seem rather calculated to silence than convince). They assert, that though the book has never been quoted by Christ or his Apostles, it was yet received into the Sacred Canon, and is therefore to be accounted of Divine original: and that there does not appear any thing in it Divine, or worthy of sacred inspiration, unless it be supposed to contain the mystery of the Divine love. Lest, however, they should seem to have proved too much, and lest they should dismiss the reader prepossessed with some doubts concerning the Divine authority of the book, I will venture to remind these profound reasoners, that the chaste and conjugal affections so carefully implanted by the Deity in the human heart, and upon which so great a portion of human happiness depends, are not unworthy of a muse fraught even with Divine inspiration. Only let us suppose, contrary to the general opinion concerning the Canticles, that the affection, which is described in this poem, is not that of lovers previous to their nuptials, but the attachment of two delicate persons, who have been long united in the sacred bond, can we suppose such happiness unworthy of being recommended as a pattern to mankind, and of being celebrated as a subject of gratitude to the great author of happiness? This is indeed a branch of morals which may be treated in a more artificial and philosophical manner; and such a manner will perhaps be more convincing to be understanding, but will never affect the heart with such tender sentiments as the Song of Solomon; in which there exists all the fervour of passion, with the utmost chastity of expression, and with that delicacy and reserve, which is ever necessary to the life and preservation of conjugal love. Let us remember, moreover, that Solomon, in his Proverbs, has not disdained very minutely to describe the felicities and infelicities of the conjugal state.

Notwithstanding all that this learned writer has so ably advanced against the allegorical import of this exquisite Idyllium, I cannot be prevailed upon entirely to relinquish the idea. That compositions of a similar kind are still extant amongst the Asiatics is certain. The Loves of Megnoun and Leileh have been celebrated in the Arabic, Persic, and Turkish languages, with all the charms of poetic rapture, whilst the impassioned lovers themselves are regarded in the same allegorical light, as the bridegroom and bride in the Song of Songs. Exclusive, however, of this consideration, there appear to stand forth in the composition it self indisputable traits of an allegorical sense. For, though (from our imperfect knowledge of the extraneous manners, arts, local peculiarities, and literature, of so singular a people, at so distant a period) we be now unable to apply the thing signified to its proper sign, yet a variety of images obtrude themselves upon us that evidently contain a symbolical meaning.—JEHOVAH having chosen the Jewish nation as his peculiar people, and being frequently, by the Prophets AFTER Solomon, represented as their HUSBAND, and they personified as his WIFE; might not the consecration (2 C'HRON. vii.) of the Temple, as an habitation for the Lord to dwell in, and there receive them to himself, have suggested to Solomon the idea of a CONJUGAL UNION, and induced him to adapt an allegory to it?—As to the allegation, that this poem is not cited in the New Testament; it will, upon this ground, be of the less weight; for our Saviour, in the parables of the ten Virgins and the Marriage Supper, has adopted (if not from it) the same allegory, as well as in other passages [AMRK ix. 15,&c.] and is himself not only pointed out to the Jews expressly in the character of a bridegroom, by John Baptist [JOHN iii.] but referred to, under it, by St. Paul [EPH. v &c.] and more particularly in the Apocalyps. How far this conjecture may be supported, I will not venture a present to pronounce, but thus much it may be proper to observe, that such images as the tents of Kedar compared to the complexion of a young female; the tower of David to her neck; Tirza to her beauty, and Jerusalem to her comeliness; the filb-pools of Hesbbon by the gates of Betbrabbin, to her eyes; the tower of Lebanon looking towards Damascus, to her nose; the mount of Carmel, to her head; with others of a similar kind, would, I think, have never selected, to exemplify the beauties of a BRIDE, in any composition that was not allegorical.]

But if, after all, it be allowed that this work is of the allegorical kind, another question remains, namely, to which of the three classes of allegory already specified it properly belongs. The first of these, you will recollect, was the continued metaphor; the second the parable, strictly so called; and the third, the mystical allegory, which, under the veil of some historical fact, conceals a meaning more sacred and sublime. I must confess, that I am clearly of the same opinion with those who assign this production to the latter class of allegories; the reason of which will be evident, if it be admitted that there is any thing in the poem at all allegorical; since there can scarcely be any doubt that it relates in a literal sense to the nuptials of Solomon. Those also who are conversant with the writings of the Hebrew poets will easily perceive how agreeable the conduct of this poem is to the practice of those writers, who are fond of annexing a secret and solemn sense to the obvious meaning of their compositions, and of looking through the medium of human affairs to those which are celestial and divine. The subject of the Canticles appears to be the marriage feast of Solomon (who was both in name and in reality the Prince of Peace); his bride is also called Solomitis, the same name with a feminine termination; through the latter Jews have strangely disguised and obscured it by a vicious pronunciation: for Solomon and Solomitis have evidently the same relation to each other, as the Latin names Caius and Caia. This circumstance of the names was not to be disregarded, since they seem to have a very strict connexion, and to afford a very distinct intimation of the latent meaning: for to what purpose innovate the usual practice of the Hebrews, by assigning to the wife of Solomon the same name, unless from a regard to the force and meaning of the word? Unless it was meant to indicate, that the name of Solomon himself was not without importance, not without some further aim than merely the distinction of the person? Who this wife of Solomon was, is not clearly ascertained: but some of the learned have conjectured, with an appearance of probability, that she was the daughter of Pharaoh, to whom Solomon was known to be particularly attached. May we not therefore, with some shadow of reason, suspect, that under the allegory of Solomon chusing a wife from the Egyptians, might be darkly typified that other Prince of Peace, who was to espouse a church, chosen from amoung the Gentiles?

Concerning the explanation of this allegory, I will only add, that, in the first place, we ought to be cautious of carrying the figurative application too far, and of entering into a precise explication of every particular: as these minute investigations are seldom conducted with sufficient prudence not to offend the serious part of mankind, learned as well as unlearned. Again, I would advise, that this production be treated according to the established rules of this kind of allegory, fully and expressly delivered in the Sacred Writings, and that the author be permitted to be his own interpreter. In this respect the errors of critics and divines have been as numerous as they have been pernicious. Not to mention other absurdities, they have taken the allegory not as denoting the universal state of the church, but the spiritual state of individuals; than which, nothing can be more inconsistent with the very nature and ground-work of the allegory itself, as well as with the general practice of the Hebrew poets of these occasions.

It remains to offer a few remarks upon the style of this poem. I formerly intimated that it was of the pastoral kind; since the two principal personages are represented in the character of shepherds. This circumstance is by no means incongruous to the manners of the Hebrews, whose principal occupation consisted in the care of cattle; nor did they consider this employment as beneath the dignity of the highest characters. Least of all, could it be supposed inconsistent with the character of Solomon, whose father was raised from the sheepfold to the throne of Israel. The pastoral life is not only most delightful in itself, but, from the particular circumstances and manners of the Hebrews, is possessed of a kind of dignity. In this poem it is adorned with all the choicest colouring of language, with all the elegance and variety of the most select imagery. "Every part of the Canticles," says a modern writer,[Bossuet]:

abounds in poetical beauties; the objects, which present themselves on every side, are the choicest plants, the most beautiful flowers, the most delicious fruits, the bloom and vigour of spring, the sweet verdure of the fields, flourishing and well-watered gardens, pleasant streams, and perrenial fountains. The other senses are represented as regaled with the most precious odours, natural and artificial; with the sweet singing of birds, and the soft voice of the turtle; with milk and honey, and the choicest of wine. To these enchantments are added all that is beautiful and graceful in the human form, the endearments, the caresses, the delicacy of love; if any object be introduced which seems not to harmonize with this delightful scene, such as the awful prospect of tremendous precipices, the wildness of the mountains, or the haunts of the lions; its effect is only to heighten by the contrast the beauty of the other objects, and to add the charms of variety to those of grace and elegance.

In the following passage the force and splendour of description in united with all the softness and tenderness of passion:

Get thee up my companion.
My lovely one, come away:
For lo! the winter is past,
The rain is over, is gone,
The flowers are seen on the earth;
The season of the song is come,
And the voice of the turtle is heard in our
 land:
The fig-tree puts forth its green figs,
And the vine's tender grapes yield a fragrance:
Arise, my companion, my fair one, and come.

The following comparisons abound in sweetness and delicacy:

How sweet is thy love, O my sister, O spouse,
How much better than wine is thy love,
And the odour of thy perfumes than all
 spices!
Thy lips, O spouse, distil honey from the
 comb,
Honey and milk are under thy tongue,
And the scent of thy garments is like
 the fragrance of Lebanon.

There are some others which demand a more accurate investigation.

Thy hair is like a flock of goats,
That browse upon Mount Gilead.

The hair of the goats was soft, smooth, of a yellow cast; like that of the bride; her beautiful tresses are compared with the numerous flocks of goats which covered this flourishing mountain from the top to the bottom.

Thy teeth are like the shorn flock
Which have come up from the washing place,
All of which have twins,
And none among them is bereaved.

The evenness, whiteness, and unbroken order of the teeth, is admirably expressed.

Like the twice-dyed thread of crimson are thy
 lips,
And thy language is sweet.

That is, thin and ruby-coloured, such as add peculiar graces to the sweetness of the voice.

Like the slice of a pomegranate.
Are thy cheeks amidst thy tresses.

Partly obscured, as it were, by her hair, and exhibiting a gentle blush of red from beneath the delicate shade, as the seeds of the pomegranate (the colour of which is white tinged with red) surrounded by the rind.

Thy neck is like the tower of David
Built for an armoury;
A thousand shields are hung up against it,
All bucklers for the mighty.

The neck is described as long, erect, slender, according to the nicest proportion; decorated with gold, gems, and large pearls. It is compared with some turret of the citadel of Sion, more lofty than the rest, remarkable for its elegance, and not less illustrious for its architecture than for the trophies with which it was adorned, being hung round with shields and other implements of war.

Thy two breasts are like two young kids,
Twins of the gazal, that browse among the
 lilies.

Delicate and smooth, standing equally prominent from the ivory bosom. The animal with which they are compared is an animal of exquisite beauty, and from that circumstance it derives its name in the Hebrew. Nothing can, I think, be imagined more truly elegant and poetical than all these passages, nothing more apt or expressive, than these comparisons. The discovery of these excellencies, however, only serves to increase our regret for the many beauties which we have lost, the perhaps superior graces, which extreme antiquity seems to have overcast with an impenetrable shade.