Annotations on the Pentateuch, Psalms, Song of Songs, Song · Version 7
CHAPTER VII.
HOw beautifull are thy feet with shoes, ô bounteous-princes daughter: the joynts of thy thighes, are like jewels, the worke of the hands of an Artificer. Thy navell, is like a round goblet; let there not want mixture: thy belly, is like an heape of wheat; set about with Lilies. Thy two breasts, are like two fawnes, twinnes of the Roe. Thy necke, is like a tower of yvorie: thine eyes, like the pooles in Heshbon, by the gate of Bath rabbim; thy nose, is like the Towre of Lebanon, looking toward Damascus. Thine head upon thee, is like Carmel, and the hayre of thine head, like purple: the King, is bound in the galleries. How fayre art thou, and how pleasant art thou; O Love, for delights! This thy stature, is like to a palme-tree; and thy breasts, to clusters. I sayd, I will goe up to the Palme-tree, I will take-hold, of the boughes thereof: and now let thy breasts bee, as clusters of the vine; and the smell of thy nose, like apples. And thy palate, like the good wine, that goeth to my beloved, to righteousnesse; causing-to-speake, the lips of those that are asleepe.
I am my beloveds; and his desire is towards mee. Come my Beloved, let us goe-forth into the field; let us lodge in the villages. Let us get-up earely, to the Vineyards; let us see whether the vine flourish, the tender-grape open it selfe, whether the Pomegranates blossome: there will I give my loves to thee. The Mandrakes giuegive a smell, and at our doores, are all precious-things, new and old: O my Beloved, I have layd them up for thee.
CHAPTER VII.
THy feet with shoes, how are they beautifull,
O thou the daughter of Prince bountifull:
Ioynts of thy thy thighes, like unto jewes are,
Worke of the hands of an artificer.
Thy navel, is like to a goblet round;
Of mixed colour let no want-be-found:
Thy belly is like to an heape of wheat;
That is with Lilies round about-beset.
Thy two breasts, like two fawnes, twins of the Roe.
Thy necke, an yv'rie towre is like unto:
Thine eyes are like the pooles in Hesebon,
By gate that haunted is of many a one:
Thy nose is like the towre of Libanus,
That looketh to the face of Damascus.
Like unto Carmel is, thine head on thee;
The hayres eke of thine head, like purple be:
The King, he bound is in the galleries.
How faire art thou, how pleasant art likewise
Thou ô deare Love for all delightfulnesse!
Like to a palm-tree this thy stature is,
Like unto clusters are thy breasts also.
I sayd, I will up to the palme-tree goe;
Will of the boughes thereof fast-hold get me:
And now thy breasts like the Vine clusters be;
And of thy nose like apples be the smell.
Thy palate eke, like wine that doth excell,
That goes to my Belov'd, to righteousnesse:
Causing the sleepers lips speech-to expresse.
I my Beloveds am; and his desire
Is towards me. Come let us forth retire
Into the field ô my Belov'd, and let
VsUs in the villages a lodging-get.
VntoUnto the vineyards, let us rise-earely;
Whether the vine doe flourish let us set,
The tender-grape if opening it appeare;
If the Pomegranate-trees doe blossomes beare▪
There will I give my dearest loves to thee.
The Mandrakes give a smell, at our doores be
All precius things eke, new and old which I
For thee, my Loved, layd-up warily.