1O that thou wert as my brother, that sucked the breasts of my mother! when I should find thee without, I would kiss thee; yea, I should not be despised. 2I would lead thee, and bring thee into my mother's house, who would instruct me: I would cause thee to drink of spiced wine of the juice of my pomegranate. 3His left hand should be under my head, and his right hand should embrace me. 4I charge you, O daughters of Jerusalem, that ye stir not up, nor awake my love, until he please. 5Who is this that cometh up from the wilderness, leaning upon her beloved? I raised thee up under the apple tree: there thy mother brought thee forth: there she brought thee forth that bare thee. 6Set me as a seal upon thine heart, as a seal upon thine arm: for love is strong as death; jealousy is cruel as the grave: the coals thereof are coals of fire, which hath a most vehement flame. 7Many waters cannot quench love, neither can the floods drown it: if a man would give all the substance of his house for love, it would utterly be contemned. 8We have a little sister, and she hath no breasts: what shall we do for our sister in the day when she shall be spoken for? 9If she be a wall, we will build upon her a palace of silver: and if she be a door, we will inclose her with boards of cedar. 10I am a wall, and my breasts like towers: then was I in his eyes as one that found favour. 11Solomon had a vineyard at Baalhamon; he let out the vineyard unto keepers; every one for the fruit thereof was to bring a thousand pieces of silver. 12My vineyard, which is mine, is before me: thou, O Solomon, must have a thousand, and those that keep the fruit thereof two hundred. 13Thou that dwellest in the gardens, the companions hearken to thy voice: cause me to hear it. 14Make haste, my beloved, and be thou like to a roe or to a young hart upon the mountains of spices.
Song of Solomon 8