WITHIN 1 my garden plot, | |
| Loe, I am present now! | |
| I gathered haue the myrrhe and spice | |
| That in aboundance growe. | |
| |
| With honey, milke, and wine, | 5 |
| I haue refresht me here: | |
| Eat, drink, my friends, be mery there, | |
| With harty friendly cheare. | |
| |
| Although in slumbering sleepe | |
| It seemes to you I lay, | 10 |
| Yet heare I my beloued knock, | |
| Methinkes I heare him say: | |
| |
| Open to me the gate, | |
| My loue, my heart’s delight, | |
| For, loe, my locks are all bedewed | 15 |
| With drizling drops of night. | |
| |
| My garments are put off, | |
| Then may I not doo so; | |
| Shal I defile my feet I washt | |
| So white as any snow? | 20 |
| |
| Then fast euen by the dore | |
| To me he shew’d his hand: | |
| My heart was then enamoured, | |
| When as I saw him stand. | |
| |
| Then straightwaies vp I rose | 25 |
| To ope the dore with speed; | |
| My handes and fingers dropped myrrhe | |
| Vpon the bar indeede. | |
| |
| Then opened I the dore | |
| Vnto my loue at last; | 30 |
| But all in vain; for why? before | |
| My loue was gone and past. | |
| |
| There sought I for my loue, | |
| Then could I crie and call; | |
| But him I could not find, nor he | 35 |
| Nould answer me at all. | |
| |
| The watchmen found me then, | |
| As thus I walk’d astray; | |
| They wounded me, and from my head | |
| My vaile they took away. | 40 |
| |
| Ye daughters of Ierusalem, | |
| If ye my loue doo see, | |
| Tell him that I am sicke for loue; | |
| Yea, tel him this from me. | |
| |
| Thou peerelesse gem of price, | 45 |
| I pray thee to vs tell, | |
| What is thy loue, what may he be, | |
| That doth so far excell? | |
| |
| In my beloued’s face | |
| The rose and lilly striue; | 50 |
| Among ten thousand men not one | |
| Is found so faire aliue. | |
| |
| His head like finest gold, | |
| With secret sweet perfume; | |
| His curled locks hang all as black | 55 |
| As any rauen’s plume. | |
| |
| His eies be like to doues’ | |
| On riuers’ banks below, | |
| Ywasht with milk, whose collours are | |
| Most gallant to the shew. | 60 |
| |
| His cheeks like to a plot | |
| Where spice and flowers growe; | |
| His lips like to the lilly white, | |
| From whence pure myrrh doth flow. | |
| |
| His hands like rings of gold | 65 |
| With costly chrisalet; | |
| His belly like the yuory white, | |
| With seemly saphyrs set. | |
| |
| His legs like pillers strong | |
| Of marble set in gold; | 70 |
| His countenance like Libanon, | |
| Or cedars, to behold. | |
| |
| His mouth it is as sweet, | |
| Yea, sweet as sweet may be: | |
| This is my loue, ye virgins, loe! | 75 |
| Euen such a one is he! | |
| |
| Thou fairest of vs all, | |
| Whether is thy louer gone? | |
| Tell us, and we will goe with thee; | |
| Thou shalt not goe alone. | 80 |
