Song of Solomon 5
1 I have come into my garden, my sister, my bride. I have gathered my myrrh with my spice; I have eaten my honeycomb with my honey; I have drunk my wine with my milk. Friends Eat, friends! Drink, yes, drink abundantly, beloved.
Mi derlyng, come in to his gardyn, to ete the fruyt of hise applis. Mi sister spousesse, come thou in to my gardyn. Y have rope my myrre, with my swete smellynge spices; Y haue ete an hony combe, with myn hony; Y haue drunke my wyn, with my mylk. Frendis, ete ye, and drynke; and derewortheste frendis, be ye fillid greetli.
2 I was asleep, but my heart was awake. It is the voice of my beloved who knocks: “Open to me, my sister, my love, my dove, my undefiled; for my head is filled with dew, and my hair with the dampness of the night.”
Y slepe, and myn herte wakith. The vois of my derlyng knockynge; my sister, my frendesse, my culuer, my spousesse vnwemmed, opene thou to me; for myn heed is ful of dew, and myn heeris ben ful of dropis of niytis.
3 I have taken off my robe. Indeed, must I put it on? I have washed my feet. Indeed, must I soil them?
I have vnclothid me of my coote; hou schal Y be clothid ther ynne? I haue waische my feet; hou schal Y defoule tho?
4 My beloved thrust his hand in through the latch opening. My heart pounded for him.
Mi derlyng putte his hond bi an hoole; and my wombe tremblide at the touchyng therof.
5 I rose up to open for my beloved. My hands dripped with myrrh, my fingers with liquid myrrh, on the handles of the lock.
Y roos, for to opene to my derlyng; myn hondis droppiden myrre, and my fyngris weren ful of myrre moost preued.
6 I opened to my beloved; but my beloved left, and had gone away. My heart went out when he spoke. I looked for him, but I didn’t find him. I called him, but he didn’t answer.
Y openede the wiket of my dore to my derlyng; and he hadde bowid awei, and hadde passid. My soule was meltid, as the derlyng spak; Y souyte, and Y foond not hym; Y clepide, and he answerde not to me.
7 The watchmen who go about the city found me. They beat me. They bruised me. The keepers of the walls took my cloak away from me.
Keperis that cumpassiden the citee founden me; thei smytiden me, and woundiden me; the keperis of wallis token awey my mentil.
8 I adjure you, daughters of Jerusalem, If you find my beloved, that you tell him that I am faint with love.
Ye douytris of Jerusalem, Y biseche you bi an hooli thing, if ye han founde my derlyng, that ye telle to hym, that Y am sijk for loue.
9 How is your beloved better than another beloved, you fairest among women? How is your beloved better than another beloved, that you do so adjure us?
A! thou faireste of wymmen, of what manner condicioun is thi derlyng `of the louede? of what manner condicioun is thi derling of a derling? for thou hast bisouyt vs bi an hooli thing.
10 My beloved is white and ruddy. The best among ten thousand.
My derling is whyt and rodi; chosun of thousyndis.
11 His head is like the purest gold. His hair is bushy, black as a raven.
His heed is best gold; hise heeris ben as the bowis of palm trees, and ben blake as a crowe.
12 His eyes are like doves beside the water brooks, washed with milk, mounted like jewels.
Hise iyen ben as culueris on the strondis of watris, that ben waischid in mylk, and sitten besidis fulleste ryueris.
13 His cheeks are like a bed of spices with towers of perfumes. His lips are like lilies, dropping liquid myrrh.
Hise chekis ben as gardyns of swete smellynge spices, set of oynement makeris; hise lippis ben lilies, droppynge doun the best myrre.
14 His hands are like rings of gold set with beryl. His body is like ivory work overlaid with sapphires.
Hise hondis ben able to turne aboute, goldun, and ful of iacynctis; his wombe is of yuer, ourned with safiris.
15 His legs are like pillars of marble set on sockets of fine gold. His appearance is like Lebanon, excellent as the cedars.
Hise lippis ben pilers of marble, that ben foundid on foundementis of gold; his schapplinesse is as of the Liban, he is chosun as cedris.
16 His mouth is sweetness; yes, he is altogether lovely. This is my beloved, and this is my friend, daughters of Jerusalem.
His throte is moost swete, and he is al desirable. Ye douytris of Jerusalem, siche is my derlyng, and this is my freend.
