Annotations on the Pentateuch, Psalms, Song of Songs, Song · Version 4
CHAPTER IIII.
BEhold, thou art faire, my love, behold thou art faire; thine eyes (are as) doves, within thy lockes: thy haire, is as a flocke of goats; that appeare, from mount Gilead. Thy teeth, are like a flocke (of sheepe) even (shorne) which come-up from the washing: which all of them beare-twinnes, and none among them is bereaved-of-the-yong. Thy lips, are like a threed of scarlet, and thy speech is comely: thy temples, are like a peece of a pomegranate, within thy locks. Thy necke, is like the tower of David, builded for an armorie: a thousand bucklers hang thereon; all, shields of mighty men. Thy two breasts, are like two fawnes, twinnes of the Roe; which feed among the Lillies. Vntill the day dawne, and the shadowes flee-away; I will get me to the mountaine of myrrh, and to the hill of Frankincense. Thou art all faire, my love; and there is no blemish in thee. Come with mee from Lebanon, my Spouse, with mee from Lebanon: looke from the top of Amanah, from the top of Shenir, and Hermon; from the Dennes of the Lions, from the mountaines of the Leopards. Thou hast ravished-my-heart, my sister my Spouse: thou hast ravished-myheart, with one of thine eyes, with one chaine of thy necke. How faire are thy loved, my sister, my spouse? how much better are thy loves then wine, and the savour of thine ointments, then all spices. Thy lippes, drop the honycomb, ô spouse: honey and milke, are under thy tongue; and the savour of thy garments, is as the savour of Lebanon. A garden locked, my sister my spouse: a spring locked, a fountaine sealed. Thy plants, are an o…tyard of Pomegranats; with fruit of preciousthings: Cypres, with Spikenard. Spikenard, and Saffran, Calamus and Cinamon; with all trees of Frankincense: Myrrh and Aoes, with all the chiefe spices.
Fountaine of gardens, well of living waters: and streaming from Lebanon. Stirre-up thou North-winde, and come thou South, blow upon my garden, that the spices therof may flow-out: let my beloved come into his garden, and eate the fruit of his precious things.
CHAPTER IIII.
LOE, thou art faire, ô thou my dearest-Love,
Loe thou art faire; thine eyes are as the dove,
Within thy locks: as flocke of goats thy haire;
That from the mount of Gilead doe appeare.
Thy teeth, are like a floke of sheepe that are
Even shorne, which from the washing up doe fare:
Which equall twinnes doe bring-forth, every one,
And them among bereav'd-of-yong is none.
Thy lips, are like unto a scarlet lace;
Also thy speech, it is with comely-grace:
The temples-of-thine-head, thy locks within
Like to a peece of a pomgranate beene.
Thy necke, is like unto the tourret-hye
Of David, builded for an armory:
A thousand bucklers on it-hanged are;
All, shields of men that mighty-are-in-war.
Thy two brests, are like unto two fawnes yong,
Twinns of the Roe: which lilies feed among.
Vntill day dawne, and shadowes doe flee hence;
To mount of myrrh, and hill of frankincense
Get met will. My love, thou art all faire;
And blemish none in thee. With me repaire
From Lebanon, from Lebanon with me
My spouse: from top of mount-Amanah see,
From Shenir top, and Hermon; from the denns
Of Lions, from the Leopards mountaines.
My sister spouse, thou hast my heart away
Even ravished: thou hast my heart (say)
Even ravished with one of those thine eyes,
With one chaine that about thy necke implies.
How faire, my sister spouse, are loves, of thine!
How are thy loves much better then is wine!
And of thine ointments th'odorifcrous-smell,
(The odour of) all spices doth excell.
Thy lips ô spouse doe drop the honey-combe:
Honey and milke, are underneath thy tongue,
And savour of the garments thee upon,
Is as the savour of (mount) Lebanon.
My sister spouse, a garden close-locked.
A locked spring, a fountaine fast sealed.
Thy plants are of pomegranats an ortyard;
With fruit of precious things: Cypres with Nard.
Nard, Saffran, Calamus, and Cinamon,
Trees of Frankincense every-one:
Myrrh Aloes, with all spices that surmount.
O thou that art the gardens welling-fount,
The well of waters that doe lively spring:
And that from Lebanon the streames-do-bring.
Stir-up thou North, & come thou South wind blow
VponUpon my garden that her spice may flow:
Into his garden my belov'd repaire,
And eate his fruit of things that precious are.