And the vines with the tender grape give a good smell.
Arise, my love, my fair one, and come away.
O my dove, that art in the clefts of the rock, in the
secret places of the stairs,

Let me see thy countenance, let me hear thy voice;
For sweet is thy voice, and thy countenance is comely.
Take us the foxes,

The little foxes, that spoil the vines:

For our vines have tender grapes.

My beloved is mine, and I am his:

He feedeth among the lilies.

Until the day break, and the shadows flee away,

Turn, my beloved,

And be thou like a roe or a young hart

Upon the mountains of Bether.

By night on my bed I sought him whom my soul loveth:

I sought him, but I found him not.

I will rise now, and go about the city
In the streets, and in the broad ways
I will seek him whom my soul loveth:
I sought him, but I found him not.

The watchmen that go about the city found me:
To whom I said, Saw ye him whom my soul loveth?

It was but a little that I passed from them,
But I found him whom my soul loveth:

I held him, and would not let him go,

Until I had brought him into my mother's house,
And into the chamber of her that conceived me.
I charge you, O ye daughters of Jerusalem,
By the roes, and by the hinds of the field,

That ye stir not up, nor awake my love, till he please.

Who is this that cometh out of the wilderness like pillars of smoke,

Perfumed with myrrh and frankincense,

With all powders of the merchant?
Behold his bed, which is Solomon's;
Threescore valiant men are about it,
Of the valiant of Israel.

They all hold swords, being expert in war:

Every man hath his sword upon his thigh because of fear in the night.

King Solomon made himself a chariot of the wood of Lebanon.

He made the pillars thereof of silver,

The bottom thereof of gold,

The covering of it of purple,

The midst thereof being paved with love, for the daughters of Jerusalem.

Go forth, O ye daughters of Zion, and behold king Solomon

With the crown wherewith his mother crowned him In the day of his espousals,

And in the day of the gladness of his heart.

BEHOLD, thou art fair, my love; behold, thou art fair; Thou hast doves' eyes within thy locks:

Thy hair is as a flock of

mount Gilead.

goats, that appear from

Thy teeth are like a flock of sheep that are even shorn, which came up from the washing;

Whereof every one bear twins, and none is barren among them.

Thy lips are like a thread of scarlet, and thy speech is comely:

Thy temples are like a piece of a pomegranate within thy locks.

Thy neck is like the tower of David

Builded for an armoury,

Whereon there hang a thousand bucklers, all shields of mighty men.

Thy two breasts are like two young roes that are twins,

Which feed among the lilies.

Until the day break, and the shadows flee away, I will get me to the mountain of myrrh, and to the hill of frankincense.

Thou art all fair, my love; there is no spot in thee. Come with me from Lebanon, my spouse, with me from Lebanon:

Look from the top of Amana, from the top of Shenir and Hermon,

From the lions' dens, from the mountains of the leo

pards.

Thou hast ravished my heart, my sister, my spouse;
Thou hast ravished my heart with one of thine eyes,
With one chain of thy neck.

How fair is thy love, my sister, my spouse!
How much better is thy love than wine!

And the smell of thine ointments than all spices!
Thy lips, O my spouse, drop as the honeycomb:
Honey and milk are under thy tongue;

And the smell of thy garments is like the smell of Lebanon.

A garden inclosed is my sister, my spouse;

A spring shut up, a fountain sealed.

Thy plants are an orchard of pomegranates, with pleasant fruits;

Camphire, with spikenard,

Spikenard and saffron;

Calamus and cinnamon, with all trees of frankincense;

Myrrh and aloes, with all the chief spices:

A fountain of gardens, a well of living waters,
And streams from Lebanon.

Awake, O north wind; and come, thou south;

Blow upon my garden, that the spices thereof may flow out.

Let my beloved come into his garden,

And eat his pleasant fruits.

I AM come into my garden, my sister, my spouse: I have gathered my myrrh with

my spice; I have eaten my honeycomb with my honey;

I have drunk my wine with my milk:

Eat, O friends; drink, yea, drink abundantly, O beloved.

I sleep, but my heart waketh:

It is the voice of my beloved that knocketh, saying, Open to me, my sister, my love, my dove, my undefiled:

For my head is filled with dew,

And my locks with the drops of the night.

I have put off my coat; how shall I put it on?

I have washed my feet; how shall I defile them?

My beloved put in his hand by the hole of the door, And my bowels were moved for him.

I rose up to open to my beloved;

And my hands dropped with myrrh,

And my fingers with sweet smelling myrrh,

Upon the handles of the lock.

I opened to my beloved;

But my beloved had withdrawn himself, and was

gone:

My soul failed when he spake:

I sought him, but I could not find him;

I called him, but he gave me no answer.

The watchmen that went about the city found me,