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Exact Match

While the king sat at his table, My spikenard sent forth its fragrance.

The Beloved to Her Lover: Awake, O north wind; come, O south wind! Blow on my garden so that its fragrant spices may send out their sweet smell. May my beloved come into his garden and eat its delightful fruit!

My beloved sent his hand from the net-work, And my bowels were moved for him.

The mandrakes send out their fragrance; over our door is every delicacy, both new and old, which I have stored up for you, my lover.