The Song of Solomon

⭑ Geneva Bible :: World English Bible Catholic ⭑

- Kapitel 6 -

My welbeloued is gone downe into his garden to the beds of spices, to feede in the gardens, and to gather lilies.

I am my welbeloueds, and my welbeloued is mine, who feedeth among the lilies.

More beautiful than all are you!

Thou art beautifull, my loue, as Tirzah, comely as Ierusale, terrible as an army with baners.

Turne away thine eyes from me: for they ouercome mee: thine heare is like a flocke of goates, which looke downe from Gilead.

Thy teeth are like a flocke of sheepe, which goe vp from the washing, which euery one bring out twinnes, and none is barren among them.

Thy temples are within thy lockes as a piece of a pomegranate.

There are threescore Queenes and fourescore concubines and of the damsels without nober.

But my doue is alone, and my vndefiled, she is the onely daughter of her mother, and shee is deare to her that bare her: the daughters haue seene her and counted her blessed: euen the Queenes and the concubines, and they haue praised her.

Who is shee that looketh foorth as the morning, fayre as the moone, pure as the sunne, terrible as an armie with banners!

I went downe to the garden of nuttes, to see the fruites of the valley, to see if the vine budded, and if the pomegranates flourished.

I knewe nothing, my soule set me as the charets of my noble people.

Returne, returne, O Shulamite, returne: returne that we may behold thee. What shall you see in the Shulamite, but as the company of an armie?

Where has your beloved gone, you fairest among women? Where has your beloved turned, that we may seek him with you?

My beloved has gone down to his garden, to the beds of spices, to pasture his flock in the gardens, and to gather lilies.

More beautiful than all are you!

I am my beloved’s, and my beloved is mine. He browses among the lilies.

(4) You are beautiful, my love, as Tirzah, lovely as Jerusalem, awesome as an army with banners. (5) Turn away your eyes from me, for they have overcome me. Your hair is like a flock of goats, that lie along the side of Gilead.

Your teeth are like a flock of ewes, which have come up from the washing, of which every one has twins; not one is bereaved among them.

Your temples are like a piece of a pomegranate behind your veil.

There are sixty queens, eighty concubines, and virgins without number.

My dove, my perfect one, is unique. She is her mother’s only daughter. She is the favorite one of her who bore her. The daughters saw her, and called her blessed. The queens and the concubines saw her, and they praised her.

Who is she who looks out as the morning, beautiful as the moon, clear as the sun, and awesome as an army with banners?

I went down into the nut tree grove, to see the green plants of the valley, to see whether the vine budded, and the pomegranates were in flower.

Without realizing it, my desire set me with my royal people’s chariots.

Return, return, Shulammite! Return, return, that we may gaze at you.

(13) Why do you desire to gaze at the Shulammite, as at the dance of Mahanaim?