Draw me: after thee we run, The king hath brought me into his inner chambers, We do joy and rejoice in thee, We mention thy loves more than wine, Uprightly they have loved thee!

A bundle of myrrh is my beloved to me, Between my breasts it lodgeth.

Who is this coming up from the wilderness, Like palm-trees of smoke, Perfumed with myrrh and frankincense, From every powder of the merchant?

Till the day doth break forth, And the shadows have fled away, I will get me unto the mountain of myrrh, And unto the hill of frankincense.

Cypresses with nard -- nard and saffron, Cane and cinnamon, With all trees of frankincense, Myrrh and aloes, with all chief spices.

I have come in to my garden, my sister-spouse, I have plucked my myrrh with my spice, I have eaten my comb with my honey, I have drunk my wine with my milk. Eat, O friends, drink, Yea, drink abundantly, O beloved ones!

I rose to open to my beloved, And my hands dropped myrrh, Yea, my fingers flowing myrrh, On the handles of the lock.

His cheeks as a bed of the spice, towers of perfumes, His lips are lilies, dropping flowing myrrh,