and that because of the good and pleasant savour. Thy name is sweet smelling ointment when it is shed forth; therefore do the maidens love thee.

“Draw me away with you and let us run together!
Let the king bring me into his chambers.”

When the king sitteth at the table, he shall smell my Nardus:

As a bag of myrrh is my well-loved one to me, when he is at rest all night between my breasts.

“He has brought me to his banqueting place,
And his banner over me is love [waving overhead to protect and comfort me].

(The Bridegroom)
“O my dove, [here] in the clefts in the rock,
In the sheltered and secret place of the steep pathway,
Let me see your face,
Let me hear your voice;
For your voice is sweet,
And your face is lovely.”

“Until the cool of the day when the shadows flee away,
Turn, my beloved, and be like a gazelle
Or a young stag on the mountains of Bether.”

I will get up, thought I, and go about the city, in the ways and in all the streets will I seek him whom my soul loveth: but when I sought him, I found him not.

It was but a little that I passed from them, When I found him whom my soul loveth: 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 that conceived me.

Go out, O daughters of Jerusalem, and see King Solomon, with the crown which his mother put on his head on the day when he was married, and on the day of the joy of his heart.

“Until the cool of the day
When the shadows flee away,
I will go my way to the mountain of myrrh
And to the hill of frankincense.

As I was asleep, and my heart waking, I heard the voice of my beloved, when he knocked. Open to me, said he, O my sister, my love, my darling, my dove: for my head is full of dew, and my locks of my hair are full of the night drops.

But when my love put in his hand at the hole, my heart was moved within me:

I opened to my beloved; but my beloved had withdrawn himself, and was gone: my soul failed when he spake: I sought him, but I could not find him; I called him, but he gave me no answer.

But one is my dove, my darling. She is the only beloved of her mother, and dear unto her that bare her. When the daughters saw her, they said, she was blessed: Yea the Queens and concubines praised her.

Turn again, turn again, O thou Shulamite; turn again, turn again, that we may look upon thee. What pleasure have ye more in the Shulamite, than when she danceth among the men of war?

O that thou wert as my brother, that sucked the breasts of my mother! when I should find thee without, I would kiss thee; yea, I should not be despised.

We have a little sister, and she hath no breasts: what shall we do for our sister in the day when she shall be spoken for?