It was but a little that I passed from them when I found him whom my soul loves. I held him, and would not let him go until I had brought him into my mother's house, and into the chamber of her who conceived me.

Thy head upon thee is like Carmel, and the hair of thy head like purple. The king is held captive in the tresses.

I said, I will climb up into the palm tree. I will take hold of the branches of it. Let thy breasts be as clusters of the vine, and the smell of thy breath like apples,