Behold, my beloved said to me: Up and haste my love, my dove, my beautiful, and come:

Up, haste my love, my dove, in the holes of the rock and secret places of the walls. Show me thy face and let me hear thy voice: for thy voice is sweet and thy fashion beautiful.

Haste, my beloved, And be thou like a gazelle or a young hart Upon the mountains of spices.

Who is this coming from the wilderness, Hasting herself for her beloved? Under the citron-tree I have waked thee, There did thy mother pledge thee, There she gave a pledge that bare thee.