Scarcely had I passed them when I found him whom my soul loves. 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 who conceived me.

I adjure you, O daughters of Jerusalem, by the gazelles or the does of the field, that you not stir up or awaken love until it pleases.

Solomon Arrives for the Wedding

What is that coming up from the wilderness like columns of smoke, perfumed with myrrh and frankincense, with all the fragrant powders of a merchant?

Behold, it is the litter of Solomon! Around it are sixty mighty men, some of the mighty men of Israel,

all of them wearing swords and expert in war, each with his sword at his thigh, against terror by night.

King Solomon made himself a carriage from the wood of Lebanon.

He made its posts of silver, its back of gold, its seat of purple; its interior was inlaid with love by the daughters of Jerusalem.

Go out, O daughters of Zion, and look upon King Solomon, with the crown with which his mother crowned him on the day of his wedding, on the day of the gladness of his heart.

Solomon Admires His Bride's Beauty

He

Behold, you are beautiful, my love, behold, you are beautiful! Your eyes are doves behind your veil. Your hair is like a flock of goats leaping down the slopes of Gilead.

Your teeth are like a flock of shorn ewes that have come up from the washing, all of which bear twins, and not one among them has lost its young.

Your lips are like a scarlet thread, and your mouth is lovely. Your cheeks are like halves of a pomegranate behind your veil.

Your neck is like the tower of David, built in rows of stone; on it hang a thousand shields, all of them shields of warriors.

Until the day breathes and the shadows flee, I will go away to the mountain of myrrh and the hill of frankincense.

Come with me from Lebanon, my bride; come with me from Lebanon. Depart from the peak of Amana, from the peak of Senir and Hermon, from the dens of lions, from the mountains of leopards.

You have captivated my heart, my sister, my bride; you have captivated my heart with one glance of your eyes, with one jewel of your necklace.

How beautiful is your love, my sister, my bride! How much better is your love than wine, and the fragrance of your oils than any spice!

A garden locked is my sister, my bride, a spring locked, a fountain sealed.

Your shoots are an orchard of pomegranates with all choicest fruits, henna with nard,

nard and saffron, calamus and cinnamon, with all trees of frankincense, myrrh and aloes, with all choice spices—

a garden fountain, a well of living water, and flowing streams from Lebanon.

Awake, O north wind, and come, O south wind! Blow upon my garden, let its spices flow.

Together in the Garden of Love

She

Let my beloved come to his garden, and eat its choicest fruits.

He

I came to my garden, my sister, my bride, I gathered my myrrh with my spice, I ate my honeycomb with my honey, I drank my wine with my milk.

Others

Eat, friends, drink, and be drunk with love!

The Bride Searches for Her Beloved

She

I slept, but my heart was awake. A sound! My beloved is knocking. “Open to me, my sister, my love, my dove, my perfect one, for my head is wet with dew, my locks with the drops of the night.”

I had put off my garment; how could I put it on? I had bathed my feet; how could I soil them?

I opened to my beloved, but my beloved had turned and gone. My soul failed me when he spoke. I sought him, but found him not; I called him, but he gave no answer.