"My Love let me thy dear Affection feel, / Imprint me on thy Heart, there stamp me as a Seal; Upon thy Arm let me engraven be, / There fix me as a Seal, love's Signet make thou me."

— Pennecuik, Alexander (d. 1730)

Place of Publication
Printed by John Mosman and Company for the Author
"My Love let me thy dear Affection feel, / Imprint me on thy Heart, there stamp me as a Seal; Upon thy Arm let me engraven be, / There fix me as a Seal, love's Signet make thou me."
Metaphor in Context
My Love let me thy dear Affection feel,
Imprint me on thy Heart, there stamp me as a Seal;
Upon thy Arm let me engraven be,
There fix me as a Seal, love's Signet make thou me
O let my flame of Love be satisfied,
Loves Floods o'erwhelm me with a raging Tide;
Love's strong as Death, who can withstand its Power,
When jealous like the Grave it doth devour.
I'm, my beloved, jealous of thy stay,
What keeps my Love? What makes the long delay?
Loves Coals burn fiercer than the Coals of Fire,
O vehement's the Flames of Loves Desire:
Ten Thousand Rivers, cannot quench my Rage,
Nay the whole Ocean can't the Flames asswage.
These feed it's burning Lust; it's fiery Womb
The Floods and Rivers and the Seas o'ercome:
When once a Fire he kindles in the Mind,
The Soul no Pleasure in the World can find;
The cordial Drops of Heaven it longs to have,
The World turns Trash, seems rotten like the Grave.
Love won't capitulate with th'earthly Man,
Christ's only fair, and all the World looks wan:
Should Earth give Bribes, Heav'ns Lover to forsake,
An Offer of its choicest Treasures make,
Give all the Substance of the World, 'twould prove
In vain to these inflam'd with heav'nly Love.
Earth's lost its Lustre, he's the dazling Gem;
Presents of Gold they'd scornfully contemn;
They court a Crown a heav'nly Diadem.
But, O sweet Lover! whilst I pant for thee,
Breath short, and gasp, thy Glory for to see,
Whilst humbly I implore thy Love and Grace,
And fondly court the Shinings of thy Face,
Dare I forget our little Sister's Case.
My Love, we have a little Sister, she,
Invelopt in a Cloud thy Beauty cannot see,
Exert almighty Pow'r, and draw her unto thee.
She hath no Breasts, she's a deformed Vine;
Yet she's thy future Spouse, then make her thine,
Deck her with wedding Robes and make her shine.
O when thy forming Fingers moulds her right,
And she looks glorious in the World's sight,
In Pomp appears, and shines with heav'nly Light.
O what shall we for our dear Sister do,
To bring her nigh and wed her unto you:
When you'll thy long delayed Visit make,
What shall we do for our dear Sister's sake,
That she may of our Privilege partake.
Yes, firmly we're resolv'd upon the thing,
We'll her with solemn Preparation bring,
Upon the Wedding-Day to meet the King.
If she for Strength like brazen Wall appear,
Upon her silver Palaces we'll rear:
If she a Door do prove, thy En'mies to keep out,
She's be enclos'd with Cedar-Boards about.
With Beauty, Strength and Honour she'll command,
And spread her numerous Issue thro' the Land;
Her Greatness the astonish'd World shall see;
In Strength and Grandeur she shall rival me.
Me, whom the envying World do Happy call,
A Rock impregnable, a Castle Wall.
I am a Wall, my swelling Breasts are Tow'rs,
But Oh, my Love, my Strength and Beauties yours!
From thee the Fountain Head, my Mercies rise;
For I found Grace and Favour in thine Eyes:
Hence I'm thro' all the Universe renound,
Because thou has my Head with Glory crown'd,
And I with Grace and Love and Strength abound.
I'll tell the list'ning World what he's done,
I'll sound the Praises of my Solomon:
For me, King Solomon was at the pains
T'enclose a Vineyard in Balhamon's Plains.
He farm'd it out to Labourers for a Rent,
Ten thousand Pieces was the Equivalent
Each Keeper yearly to the Land-Lord sent.
The Fruit rewarded ev'ry virtuous one;
Enrich'd the Frugal, but it starv'd the Dron:
My Vineyard, which is mine, before me lies;
It's still the darling Object of mine Eyes.
O Solomon, the Rents be paid by me,
A Thousand silver Pieces I'll give thee,
Each Keeper of the Fruit two hundred for their Fee.
O thou who dwellest in the gladsome Grove
Behold the dear Companions of my Love
Listen unto the Musick of thy Tongue,
And never think the blessed Hours too long;
No, they are all in Rapture with thy Song.
When they're made glad, being intertain'd by you,
Make me a Sharer in the Pleasures too;
With equal Warmth and Gratitude rejoyce,
I'll in strong Numbers sing with rapt'rous Noise,
When I in Consort join, and hear my Lovers Voice.
O my Beloved! fly with Lovers haste!
O! when shall Days and Hours, and Years be past,
And Time, dull tedious Time, no longer last.
Make swift Approaches, let my Bridgroom go
Swiftly, as on the Spicy Hills the Roe:
Swifter than the young nimble Hart can flie
Let thy Appearance unto Judgment be;
I shall be Happy then thro' all Eternitie.
Found again searching "heart" and "stamp" in HDIS (Poetry)
Streams from Helicon: or, Poems on Various Subjects. In Three Parts (Edinburgh: Printed by John Mosman, 1720). <Link to ECCO>
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The Mind is a Metaphor is authored by Brad Pasanek, Assistant Professor of English, University of Virginia.