I am black, but comely, O ye daughters of Jerusalem, as the tents of Kedar, as the curtains of Solomon.

I charge you, O ye daughters of Jerusalem, by the roes, and by the hinds of the field, that ye stir not, nor awake my love, till he please.

I charge you, O ye daughters of Jerusalem, by the roes, and by the hinds of the field, that ye stir not up, nor awake my love, till he please.

He made its pillars of silver, the bottom of it of gold, the covering of it of purple, the midst of it being paved with love, for the daughters of Jerusalem.

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

His mouth is most sweet: yes, he is altogether lovely. This is my beloved, and this is my friend, O daughters of Jerusalem.

Thou art beautiful, O my love, as Tirzah, comely as Jerusalem, terrible as an army with banners.

I charge you, O daughters of Jerusalem, that ye stir not, nor awake my love, until he please.