Who’s this, that leaning on her Friend,
doth from the wilderness ascend?
Mind how I raised thee,
ev’n where thy Mother thee conceived,
where she that brought thee forth conceived,
beneath an apple tree.
[Me in thy heart engraven bear,
and seal-like on thy handwrist wear;
for, Love is strong as Death:
fierce as the Grave is jealousy,
the coals thereof do burning lie;
and furious flames it hath.]
Much water cannot cool Love’s flame:
no floods have power to quench the same.
For Love so high is prized,
that who to buy it would assay,
though all his wealth he gave away,
it would be all despised.
[Thou, whose abode the gardens are,
(thy fellows unto thee give ear)
cause me to hear thy voice;
and let my Love as swiftly go,
as doth a hart or nimble roe,
upon the hills of spice.]
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