Song of Songs 2:13
The figge tree bryngeth foorth her figges, and the vines beare blossomes and haue a good smell.
The figge tree bryngeth foorth her figges, and the vines beare blossomes and haue a good smell.
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7His left hande lyeth vnder my head, and his right hande shall imbrace me.
8I charge you (O ye daughters of Hierusalem) by the roes and hindes of the fiede, that ye wake not vp my loue, nor touche her, tyll she be content her selfe.
9Me thinke I heare the voyce of my beloued: lo, there commeth he hopping vpon the mountaines, and leaping ouer the litle hilles.
10My beloued is lyke a roe or a young hart: beholde he standeth behinde our wall, he looketh in at the windowe, and peepeth thorowe the grace.
11My beloued aunswered and sayd vnto me: O stande vp my loue, my beautifull, and go to thyne owne: for lo the winter is nowe past, the rayne is away and gone.
12The flowres are come vp in the field, the tyme of the byrdes singing is come, and the voyce of the turtle doue is hearde in our lande.
6O Howe faire and louely art thou my dearlyng in pleasures?
7Thy stature is lyke a paulme tree, and thy breastes lyke the grapes.
8I sayde, I wyll climbe vp into the paulme tree, and take holde of his hye braunches. Thy breastes also shalbe as the wine clusters, the smell of thy nosethrilles like as the smell of apples.
9And thy rooffe of thy mouth lyke the best wine, which is meete for my best beloued, pleasaunt for his lippes, and for his teeth to chawe.
10I am my beloueds, and he shall turne hym vnto me.
11O come on my loue, we wyll go foorth into the fielde, and take our lodgyng in the villages.
12In the mornyng wyll we go see the vineyarde, we wyll see yf the vine be sprong foorth, yf the grapes be growen, and yf the pomegranates be shot out. There will I geue thee my brestes:
13the Mandragoras geue their sweete smell, and besyde our doores are all maner of pleasaunt fruites both newe and olde, which I haue kept for thee O my beloued.
15a well of gardens, a well of liuing waters which runne downe from Libanus.
16Up thou north winde, come thou south winde and blowe vpon my garden, that the smell therof may be caryed on euery side: yea that my beloued may come into his garden, and eate of the sweete fruites that growe therein.
14O stande vp then and come my loue my beautifull, and come I say O my doue, out of the caues of the rockes, out of the holes of the wall, O let me see thy countenaunce and heare thy voyce: for sweete is thy voyce, and fayre is thy face.
15Get vs the foxes, yea the litle foxes that hurt the vines: for our vines beare blossomes.
16My loue is mine, & I am his, whiche feedeth among the lillies vntill the day breake, and till the shadowes be gone:
17Come agayne O my beloued, and be lyke as a roe or a young hart vpon the wyde mountaines.
13a bundell of myrre is my loue vnto me, he wyll lye betwixt my brestes:
14a cluster of Camphire in the vineyardes of Engaddi is my loue vnto me.
15Oh howe fayre art thou my loue, Oh howe fayre art thou? thou hast doues eyes.
16O howe fayre art thou my beloued, howe well fauoured art thou? Our bed is dect with flowres,
3Like as the apple tree among the trees of the wood: so is my beloued among the sonnes.
4My delight is to sit vnder his shadowe, for his fruite is sweete vnto my throte.
5He bringeth me into his wine seller, his banner spread ouer me, whiche is his loue.
13Thou that dwellest in the gardens, O let me heare thy voyce, that my companions may hearken to the same.
14O get thee away my loue, and be as a roe or a young hart vpon the sweete smellyng mountaynes.
1Whyther is thy loue gone then O thou fairest among women? whyther is thy loue departed, and we wyll seke hym with thee?
2My loue is gone downe into his garden vnto the sweete smellyng beddes, that he may refreshe hym selfe in the garden, & gather lilies.
6O that I might go to the mountaine of myrre, and to the hil of frankencense, til the day breake, and til the shadowes be past away.
4I charge you O ye daughters of Hierusalem that ye wake not vp my loue, nor touche her, tyll she be content her selfe.
5(What is she this that cometh vp from the wildernesse, and leaneth vpon her loue?) I wake thee vp among the apple trees where thy mother conceaued thee, where thy mother I say brought thee into the worlde.
1I am come into my garden, O my sister, my spouse, I haue gathered my Myrre with my spice: I haue eate hony with my hony combe, I haue drunke my wine with my milke: Eate O ye frendes, drinke and be merie O ye beloued.
2I am a sleepe, but my heart is waking: I heare the voyce of my beloued when he knocketh, saying, Open to me O my sister, my loue, my doue, my dearling: for my head is full of deawe, and the lockes of my heere are full of the nyght doppes.
12A garden well locked is my sister, my spouse: a garden well locked, and a sealed well.
13The fruites that are planted in thee, are lyke a very paradise of pomegranates with sweete fruites, as Camphire, Nardus,
5I charge you O ye daughters of Hierusalem by the roes and hyndes of the fielde, that ye wake not vp my loue, nor touch her, till she be content her self.
6Who is this that commeth vp out of the wyldernesse like vapours of smoke, as it were a smell of myrre, frankensence, and all maner spices of the Apothecarie?
1Nowe wyll I syng my beloued friende, a song of my friende touching his vineyard: My beloued friende hath a vineyarde in a very fruiteful plenteous grounde.
8Come to me from Libanus (O my spouse) come to me from Libanus: looke from the top of Amana, from the top of Sanir and Hermon, from the lions dennes, and from the mountaines of the leopardes.
2O that he would kisse me with the kisses of his mouth: for thy loue is more pleasaunt then wine,
10O howe fayre are thy breastes, my sister, my spouse? Thy breastes are more pleasaunt then wine, and the smell of thyne oyntmentes passeth all spices.
4Drawe thou me vnto thee we wyll runne after thee. The kyng hath brought me into his priuie chaumbers: We wylbe glad and reioyce in thee, we thinke more of thy loue then of wine: they that be righteous loue thee.
7Tell me O thou whom my soule loueth, where thou feedest the sheepe, where thou makest them rest at the noone day: for why shall I be like hym that goeth wrong about the flockes of thy companions?
11I went downe into the nut garden to see what grewe by the brookes, and to loke yf the vineyarde florished, or yf the pomegranates were not foorth.
22Be not afrayde ye beastes of the fielde, for the fruitfull places of the desert are greene: for the tree beares her fruite, the figge tree and the vine yeelde their strength.
11The figge tree aunswered them: should I forsake my sweetnes, and my good fruite, and go to be promoted ouer the trees?
5I stoode vp to open vnto my beloued, and my handes dropped with Myrre, & the Myrre ranne downe my fingers vpon the locke.