Like the fragrance of thy precious oils, Oil poured out, is thy name, For this cause, virgins love thee.

SHEDraw me! THEYAfter thee, will we run! SHEThe king, hath brought me, into his chambers. THEYWe will exult and rejoice in thee, we will mention thy caresses, beyond wine, Sincerely they love thee.

HEIf thou know not of thyself, most beautiful among women! get thee forth in the footsteps of the flock, and pasture thy kids by the huts of the shepherds. --

To a mare of mine, in the chariots of Pharaoh, have I likened thee, my fair one!

THEYRows of golden ornaments, will we make thee, with studs of silver.

Thou art, all over, beautiful, my fair one, and, blemish, is there none in thee.

DAUGHTERS OF JERUSALEMWhither hath thy beloved, gone, thou most beautiful among women? whither hath thy beloved turned him aside? That we may seek him with thee.

THEYReturn, return, O Shulamite, Return, return, that we may look on thee! SHEWhat would ye look on in the Shulamite? THEYAs it were the dance of a double camp --

Thy head upon thee, is like Carmel, And, the hair of thy head, is like purple, - The king, is held captive by the ringlets!

I said, I will ascend the palm-tree, I will lay hold of its fruit stalks - Oh then, let thy breasts, I pray thee, be like vine-clusters, And, the fragrance of thy nose, like apples;

Let us get up early to the vineyards, Let us see whether the vine, hath burst forth, the blossom, hath opened, the pomegranates, have bloomed, - There, will I give my caresses to thee.

The love-apples, have given fragrance, and, at our openings, are all precious things, new and yet old, - O my beloved! I have treasured them up for thee.

Oh that thou hadst been a very brother to me, who had sucked the breasts of my own mother, - Had I found thee without, I had kissed thee, Yea, folk would not have despised me!

I would have guided thee - brought thee into the house of my mother, Thou wouldst have instructed me, - I would have let thee drink of spiced wine, of the pressed-out juice of my pomegranate.

THEYWho is this, coming up out of the wilderness, leaning upon her beloved? HEUnder the apple-tree, I roused thee, where thy mother, was in pain with thee, where she was in pain who gave thee birth!

Mine own vineyard, is before me, - The thousand belong to thee, O Solomon, and two hundred to the keepers of the fruit thereof.