Part 310 (1/2)

THE WINTER IS PAST, THE RAIN IS OVER AND GONE

My beloved spake, and said unto me, Rise up, my love, my fair one, and come away.

For, lo, the winter is past, The rain is over and gone; The flowers appear on the earth; The time of the singing of birds is come, And the voice of the turtledove is heard in our land; The fig tree ripeneth her green figs, And the vines are in blossom, They give forth their fragrance.

Arise, my love, my fair one, and come away.

O my dove, that art in the clefts of the rock, in the covert of the steep place, Let me see thy countenance, let me hear thy voice; For sweet is thy voice, and thy countenance is comely.

Take us the foxes, the little foxes, that spoil the vineyards; For our vineyards are in blossom.

My beloved is mine, and I am his: He feedeth his flock among the lilies.

Until the day be cool, and the shadows flee away, Turn, my beloved, and be thou like a roe or a young hart Upon the mountains of Bether.

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IN THE GARDEN OF LOVE

Come with me from Lebanon, my bride, With me from Lebanon: Look from the top of Amana, From the top of Senir and Hermon, From the lions' dens, From the mountains of the leopards.

Thou hast ravished my heart, my sister, my bride; Thou hast ravished my heart with a glance of thine eyes, With one chain of thy neck.

How fair is thy love, my sister, my bride!

How much better is thy love than wine!

And the smell of thine ointments than all manner of spices!

Thy lips, O my bride, drop as the honeycomb: Honey and milk are under thy tongue; And the smell of thy garments is like the smell of Lebanon.

A garden shut up is my sister, my bride; A spring shut up, a fountain sealed.

Thy shoots are an orchard of pomegranates, with precious fruits; Henna with spikenard plants, Spikenard and saffron, Calamus and cinnamon, with all trees of frankincense; Myrrh and aloes, with all the chief spices.

Thou art a fountain of gardens, A well of living waters, And flowing streams from Lebanon.

Awake, O north wind; and come, thou south; Blow upon my garden, that the spices thereof may flow out.

Let my beloved come in to his garden, And eat his precious fruits.

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WHITHER IS THY BELOVED GONE?

Whither is thy beloved gone, O thou fairest among women?

Whither hath thy beloved turned him, That we may seek him with thee?

My beloved is gone down to his garden, to the beds of spices, To feed in the gardens, and to gather lilies.

I am my beloved's, and my beloved is mine: He feedeth his flock among the lilies.

I am my beloved's, And his desire is toward me.

Come, my beloved, let us go forth into the field; Let us lodge in the villages.

Let us get up early to the vineyards; Let us see whether the vine hath budded, and its blossom be open, And the pomegranates be in flower: There will I give thee my love.

The mandrakes give forth fragrance, And at our doors are all manner of precious fruits, new and old, Which I have laid up for thee, O my beloved.