I am black, O ye daughters of Jerusalem, like as the tents of the Kedarenes, and as the hangings of Solomon: but yet am I fair and well favored withal.

I charge you, O ye daughters of Jerusalem, by the Roes and hinds of the field, that ye wake not up my love nor touch her, till she be content herself.

I charge you, O ye daughters of Jerusalem, by the Roes, and Hinds of the field, that ye wake not up my love nor touch her, till she be content herself.

the pillars are of silver, the covering of gold, the seat of purple, the ground pleasantly paved with love for the daughters of Jerusalem.

I charge you therefore, O ye daughters of Jerusalem, if ye find my beloved, that ye tell him how that I am sick for love.

His throat is sweet; yea, he is altogether lovely. Such one is my love, O ye daughters of Jerusalem, such one is my love.

Thou art beautiful, O my love, even as loveliness itself; thou art fair as Jerusalem, glorious as an army of men with their banners.

I charge you, O ye daughters of Jerusalem, that ye wake not up my love, nor touch her, till she be content herself. What is she, this that cometh up from the wilderness, and leaneth upon her love?