They smote me, they wounded me;

The keepers of the walls took away my veil from me.

I charge you, O daughters of Jerusalem,

If ye find my beloved, that ye tell him,

That I am sick of love.

What is thy beloved more than another beloved,

O thou fairest among women?
What is thy beloved more than another beloved,

that thou dost so charge us?

My beloved is white and ruddy,
The chiefest among ten thousand.
His head is as the most fine gold,
His locks are bushy, and black as a raven.
His eyes are as the eyes of doves by the rivers of
waters,

Washed with milk, and fitly set.
His cheeks are as a bed of spices, as sweet flowers:
His lips like lilies, dropping sweet smelling myrrh. •
His hands are as gold rings set with the beryl:
His belly is as bright ivory overlaid with sapphires.
His legs are as pillars of marble, set upon sockets m

of fine gold:
His countenance is as Lebanon, excellent as the

cedars.

His mouth is most sweet: yea,he is altogether lovely. This is my beloved, and this is my friend, O daughters of Jerusalem.

Whither is thy beloved gone, O thou fairest among women?

Whither is thy beloved turned aside? that we may seek him with thee.

My beloved is gone down into his garden, to the

beds of spices,
To feed in the gardens, and to gather lilies.
I am my beloved's, and my beloved is mine:
He feedeth among the lilies.

Thou art beautiful, O my love, as Tirzah,
Comely as Jerusalem,
Terrible as an army with banners.
Turn away thine eyes from me, for they have over-
come me:

Thy hair is as a flock of goats that appear from
Gilead.

Thy teeth are as a flock of sheep which go up from the washing,

Whereof every one beareth twins, and there is not

one barren among them. As a piece of a pomegranate are thy temples within

thy locks.

There are threescore queens, and fourscore concubines,

And virgins without number.

My dove, my undefiled is but one;

She is the only one of her mother,

She is the choice one of her that bare her.
The daughters saw her, and blessed her;
Yea, the queens and the concubines, and they praised
her.

Who is she that looketh forth as the morning,
Fair as the moon, clear as the sun,
And terrible as an army with banners?

I went down into the garden of nuts to see the fruits

of the valley, And to see whether the vine flourished, and the

pomegranates budded. Or ever I was aware,

My soul made me like the chariots of Ammi-nadib.

Return, return, O Shulamite;

Return, return, that we may look upon thee.

What will ye see in the Shulamite?

As it were the company of two armies.

How beautiful are thy feet with shoes, O prince's daughter!

The joints of thy thighs are like jewels,
The work of the hands of a cunning workman.
Thy navel is like a round goblet, which wanteth not
liquor:

Thy belly is like an heap of wheat set about with lilies.

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

Thy neck is as a tower of ivory;

Thine eyes like the fish pools in Heshbon, by the gate of Bath-rabbim:

Thy nose is as the tower of Lebanon which looketh toward Damascus.

Thine head upon thee is like Carmel,

And the hair of thine head like purple;

The king is held in the galleries.

How fair and how pleasant art thou, O love, for delights!

This thy stature is like to a palm tree,

And thy breasts to clusters of grapes.

I said, I will go up to the palm tree,

I will take hold of the boughs thereof:

Now also thy breasts shall be as clusters of the vine,

And the smell of thy nose like apples;

And the roof of thy mouth like the best wine

For my beloved, that goeth down sweetly,

Causing the lips of those that are asleep to speak.

I am my beloved's, and his desire is toward me.
Come, my beloved, let us go forth into the field;
Let us lodge in the villages.
Let us get up early to the vineyards;
Let us see if the vine flourish, whether the tender
grape appear,

And the pomegranates bud forth:

There will I give thee my loves.

The mandrakes give a smell,

And at our gates are all manner of pleasant fruits,

New and old,

Which I have laid up for thee, O my beloved.

O That thou wert as my brother, that sucked the breasts of my mother!

When I should find thee without, I would kiss thee; Yea, I should not be despised.

I would lead thee, and bring thee into my mother's house, who would instruct me:

I would cause thee to drink of spiced wine of the

juice of my pomegranate. His left hand should be under my head, And his right hand should embrace me. I charge you, O daughters of Jerusalem, That ye stir not up, nor awake my love, until he

please.

Who is this that cometh up from the wilderness,
Leaning upon her beloved?

I raised thee up under the apple tree:
There thy mother brought thee forth:
There she brought thee forth that bare thee.
Set me as a seal upon thine heart,
As a seal upon thine arm: