The third Canticle

I Heare my Loue: and him I see
Come leaping by the Mountaines there.
Loe, o're the Hillockes trippeth He;
And Roe, or Stag-like, doth appeare.
Loe, from behind the wall he pries:
Now, at the window-grate is he.
Now speakes my Deare, and saies, arise
My Loue, my Faire, and come with me.

Loe, Winter's past, and come the Spring,
The Raine is gone, the Weather cleare:
The season wooes the Birds to sing:
And on the Earth the flowers appeare.
The Turtle croweth in our Field:
Young Figs the Figge-tree downe doth weigh:
The blossom'd Uines a sauour yeeld,
Rise Loue, my Faire, and come away.

My Doue, that art obscured, where
The Rockes darke staires doe thee infold:
Thy voice, (thy sweet voice) let me heare,
And Thee (that louely sight) behold.
Those Foxes cubs the Uines that marre,
Goe take vs, whilst the Grapes be young:
My Loues am I; and mine's my Deare,
Who feeds the lilly flowers among.

While breake of Day, when shades depart,
Returne my Well-beloued One;
Eu'n as a Roe, or lusty Hart,
That doth on Bether Mountaines runne.
For him, that to my soule is deare,
Within my bed, by night I sought:
I sought; but him I found not there.
Thus therefore, with my selfe I thought:

I le rise, and round the Citty wend,
Through Lanes, and open waies I'le goe,
That I my soules-delight may finde.
So there I sought, and mist him too.
The Citty-watch, me lighted on;
Them askt I for my soules-delight:
And somewhat past them being gone,
My soules-beloued found I straight.

Whom there in my embrace I caught:
And him forsooke I not, till he
Into my Mothers house I brought,
Her Chamber who conceiued me.
You Daughters of Ierusalem,
Surre not (by field-bred Harts and Roes;
For you I doe adiute by them)
Nor wake my Loue till she dispose.