Oh my love, how comely now,
and how beautiful art thou!
Thou of dovelike eyes a pair,
shining hast within thy hair:
and thy locks like kidlings be,
which from Gilead hill we see.
[Come with Me from Lebanon,
oh My Spouse, now with Me come!
Thou, My sister, thou art she,
of My heart that robbeth Me,
with but one glance from thine eyes,
one lock that in thy neck lies.]
Love, thy lips drop sweetness so,
as the combs of honey do.
Thou hast underneath thy tongue
honey mixed with milk among.
And thy robes do scent as well,
as the frankincense doth smell.
All the gardens ev’rywhere,
take their first beginning there.
There the precious Fountain lies,
whence all living waters rise.
Even all those streams that come,
running down from Libanon.
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