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Like pillars of smoke,

Perfumed with myrrh and frankincense,

With all powders of the merchant?

⁷Behold, it is the litter of Solomon;

Threescore mighty men are about it,

Of the mighty men of Israel.

⁸They all handle the sword,

And are expert in war;

Every man hath his sword upon his thigh,

Because of dread in the night.

⁹King Solomon made himself a palanquin

Of the wood of Lebanon.

¹⁰He made the pillars thereof of silver,

The top thereof of gold,

The seat of it of purple,

The inside thereof being inlaid with love,

From the daughters of Jerusalem.

¹¹Go forth, O ye daughters of Zion,

And gaze upon king Solomon,

Even upon the crown wherewith his mother hath crowned him in the day of his espousals,

And in the day of the gladness of his heart.

 

4 Behold, thou art fair, my love; behold, thou art fair;

Thine eyes are as doves behind thy veil;

Thy hair is as a flock of goats, that trail down from mount Gilead.

²Thy teeth are like a flock of ewes all shaped alike,

Which are come up from the washing;

Whereof all are paired, and none faileth among them.

³Thy lips are like a thread of scarlet,

And thy mouth is comely;

Thy temples are like a pomegranate split open

Behind thy veil.

⁴Thy neck is like the tower of David

Builded with turrets,

Whereon there hang a thousand shields,

All the armour of the mighty men.

⁵Thy two breasts are like two fawns

That are twins of a gazelle,

Which feed among the lilies.

⁶Until the day breathe,

And the shadows flee away,

I will get me to the mountain of myrrh,

And to the hill of frankincense.

⁷Thou art all fair, my love;

And there is no spot in thee.

⁸Come with me from Lebanon, my bride,

With me from Lebanon;

Look from the top of Amana,

From the top of Senir and Hermon,

From the lions' dens,

From the mountains of the leopards.

⁹Thou hast ravished my heart, my sister, my bride;

Thou hast ravished my heart with one of thine eyes,

With one bead of thy necklace.

¹⁰How fair is thy love, my sister, my bride!

How much better is thy love than wine!

And the smell of thine ointments than all manner of spices!

¹¹Thy lips, O my bride, drop honey—

Honey and milk are under thy tongue;

And the smell of thy garments is like the smell of Lebanon.

¹²A garden shut up is my sister, my bride;

A spring shut up, a fountain sealed.

¹³Thy shoots are a park of pomegranates,

With precious fruits;

Henna with spikenard plants,

¹⁴Spikenard and saffron, calamus and cinnamon,

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