Tell me, O thou whom my soul loveth, Where thou feedest [thy flock], Where thou makest [it] to rest at noon: For why should I be as one that is veiled Beside the flocks of thy companions?

Take us the foxes, the little foxes, That spoil the vineyards; For our vineyards are in blossom.

I have compared thee, O my love, To a steed in Pharaoh's chariots.

The fig-tree ripeneth her green figs, And the vines are in blossom; They give forth their fragrance. Arise, my love, my fair one, and come away.

My beloved spake, and said unto me, Rise up, my love, my fair one, and come away.

I adjure you, O daughters of Jerusalem, If ye find my beloved, That ye tell him, that I am sick from love.

I adjure you, O daughters of Jerusalem, By the roes, or by the hinds of the field, That ye stir not up, nor awake [my] love, Until he please.

Behold, thou art fair, my love; Behold thou art fair; Thine eyes are [as] doves.

I adjure you, O daughters of Jerusalem, By the roes, or by the hinds of the field, That ye stir not up, nor awake [my] love, Until he please.

Let us get up early to the vineyards; Let us see whether the vine hath budded, [And] its blossom is open, [And] the pomegranates are in flower: There will I give thee my love.