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(Arranged by Sir James George Frazer, 1895)
BEHOLD, thou art fair, my love; behold thou art fair; | |
| Thou hast doves’ eyes within thy locks: | |
| Thy hair is as a flock of goats, | |
| That appear from mount Gilead. | |
| Thy teeth are like a flock of sheep that are even shorn, | 5 |
| 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: | 10 |
| Thy temples are like a piece of pomegranate | |
| Within thy locks. | |
| Thy neck is like the tower of David builded for an armory, | |
| Whereon there hang a thousand bucklers, | |
| All shields of mighty men. | 15 |
| 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. | 20 |
| 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, | 25 |
| From the top of Shenir and Hermon, | |
| From the lions’ dens, | |
| From the mountains of the leopards. | |
| Thou hast ravished my heart, my sister, my spouse; | |
| Thou hast ravished my heart with one of thine eyes, | 30 |
| 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: | 35 |
| Honey and milk are under thy tongue; | |
| And the smell of thy garments is like the smell of Lebanon. | |
| A garden enclosed is my sister, my spouse; | |
| A spring shut up, a fountain sealed. | |
| Thy plants are an orchard of pomegranates, with pleasant fruits: | 40 |
| 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, | 45 |
| 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, | 50 |
| And eat his pleasant fruits. | |
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