Song of Solomon 4
1 [HE] Lo! thou art beautiful, my fair one, Lo! thou art beautiful, Thine eyes, are doves, from behind thy veil, —Thy hair, is like a flock of goats, which are reclining on the sides of Mount Gilead:
Mi frendesse, thou art ful fair; thin iyen ben of culueris, with outen that that is hid with ynne; thin heeris ben as the flockis of geete, that stieden fro the hil of Galaad.
2 Thy teeth, are like a flock, evenly grown, which have come up from the washing-place, —whereof, all of them, are twin-bearers, and bereaved, is none among them:
Thi teeth ben as the flockis of clippid sheep, that stieden fro waischyng; alle ben with double lambren, and no bareyn is among tho.
3 Like a cord of crimson, are thy lips, and, thy mouth, is lovely, —Like a slice of pomegranate, are thy temples, behind thy veil:
Thi lippis ben as a reed lace, and thi speche is swete; as the relif of an appil of Punyk, so ben thi chekis, with outen that, that is hid with ynne.
4 Like the tower of David, is thy neck, built for war, —A thousand shields, hung thereon, all, equipment of heroes:
Thi necke is as the tour of Dauid, which is bildid with strengthis maad bifore for defense; a thousynde scheldis hangen on it, al armure of stronge men.
5 Thy two breasts, are like two young roes, twins of a gazelle, —which pasture among lilies.
Thi twei tetis ben as twey kidis, twynnes of a capret, that ben fed in lilies,
6 Until the day, breathe, and the shadows, be lengthened, I will get me unto the mountain of myrrh, and unto the hill of frankincense.
til the dai sprynge, and shadewis ben bowid doun. Y schal go to the mounteyn of myrre, and to the litil hil of encense.
7 Thou art, all over, beautiful, my fair one, and, blemish, is there none in thee.
My frendesse, thou art al faire, and no wem is in thee.
8 With me, from Lebanon, O bride, with me, from Lebanon, shalt thou enter, —Thou shalt look round from the top of Amana, from the top of Senir, and Hermon, from the dens of lions, from the mountains of leopards.
My spousesse, come thou fro the Liban; come thou fro the Liban, come thou; thou schalt be corowned fro the heed of Amana, fro the cop of Sanyr and Hermon, fro the dennys of liouns, fro the hillis of pardis.
9 Thou hast encouraged me, my sister, bride, —thou hast encouraged me, with one [glance] of thine eyes, with one ornament of thy neck.
My sister spousesse, thou hast woundid myn herte; thou hast woundid myn herte, in oon of thin iyen, and in oon heer of thi necke.
10 How beautiful are thy caresses, my sister, bride, —how much more delightful thy caresses, than wine, and the fragrance of thine oils, than all spices:
My sistir spousesse, thi tetis ben ful faire; thi tetis ben feirere than wyn, and the odour of thi clothis is aboue alle swete smellynge oynementis.
11 With sweetness, thy lips do drip, O bride, —Honey and milk, are under thy tongue, and, the fragrance of thy garments, is like the fragrance of Lebanon.
Spousesse, thi lippis ben an hony coomb droppynge; hony and mylk ben vndur thi tunge, and the odour of thi clothis is as the odour of encence.
12 A garden barred, is my sister, bride, —a spring barred, a fountain sealed:
Mi sister spousesse, a gardyn closid togidere; a gardyn closid togidere, a welle aseelid.
13 Thy buddings forth, are a paradise of pomegranates, with precious fruits, —henna bushes, with nard blossoms:
Thi sendingis out ben paradis of applis of Punyk, with the fruytis of applis, cipre trees, with narde;
14 Nard and saffron, sweet cane and cinnamon, with all woods of frankincense, —myrrh and aloes, with all the chiefs of spices:
narde, and saffrun, an erbe clepid fistula, and canel, with alle trees of the Liban, myrre, and aloes, with alle the beste oynementis.
15 A garden fountain, a well of living waters, —and flowings from Lebanon.
A welle of gardyns, a pit of wallynge watris, that flowen with fersnesse fro the Liban.
16 [SHE] Awake, O north wind, and come in, thou south, Fan my garden—its balsams, will flow out, —Let my beloved enter his garden, and eat his precious fruits.
Rise thou north wynd, and come thou, south wynd; blowe thou thorouy my gardyn, and the swete smellynge oynementis therof schulen flete.
