The fift Canticle

Oh my Loue, how comely now,
and how beautifull art thou!
Thou of Doue-like eyes apaire,
shining hast within thy haire:
And thy locks like Kidlings be,
which from Gilead hill we see.

Like those Ewes thy Teeth doe show,
Which in rowes from washing goe;
When among them there is none
Twinlesse, nor a barren-one.
And thy Lippes are of a red;
Like the Rosie-colour'd thread.

Speach becomming thee thou hast.
Underneath thy Tresses plac't
Are thy Temples (matchlesse faire)
Which o're-shadow'd with thy haire:
Like Pomgranats doe appeare,
When they cut asunder are.

To that Fort, thy Necke's compar'd,
Which with Bulwarkes Dauid rear'd.
Where a thousand sheilds are hung;
All the Targets of the Strong.
Breasts, thou hast like twinned Roes,
Feeding where the Lilly growes.

While day breake, and shades are gone,
To the Mountaines I will runne:
To that hill whence Myrrh doth come,
And to that of Libanum.
Thou my Loue, all beauty art,
Spotlesse-faire in eu'ry part.

Come my Spouse from Libanum:
Come with me from Libanum.
From Amana turne thy sight,
Shenir's top, and Hermons height;
From the dennes of Lyons fell,
And the hils, where Leopards dwell.

Thou, my Sister, thou art shee,
Of my hart that robbeth me,
Thou my Spouse . oh thou art shee
Of my hart that robbeth me,
With one of thine eyes aspect,
And with one locke of thy necke.

Sister . and espoused-peere,
Those thy Breasts how faire they are!
Better be those Dugs of thine
Then the most delicious wine:
And, thine oyntments odours are
Sweeter then all spices farre.

Loue, thy Lips drop sweetnesse, so
As the Combs of hony do.
Thou hast vnderneath thy Tongue,
Hony mixt with milke among.
And thy Robes doe sent, as well
As the Frankincense doth smell.

Thou, my Sister and espous'd,
Art a Garden, fast enclosd;
Walled-Spring, a Fountaine seal'd;
And the plants thy Orchard yeeld,
Are of the Pomegranat-tree,
With those fruits that pleasant be.

Camphire, there, with Nard doth growe,
Nard, commixt with Crocus too,
Calamus, and Cynamom,
With all trees of Libanum;
Sweetest Aloes and Myrrhe,
And all spice that pretious are.

All the Gardens eu'ry where,
Take their first beginning there.
There, the precious Fountaine lyes,
Whence all liuing-waters rise:
Eu'n all those Streames that come
Running downe from Libanum.