Song of Songs 8:1
O that I might finde thee without and kisse thee, whom I loue as my brother whiche suckt my mothers brestes, and that thou shalt not be dispised,
O that I might finde thee without and kisse thee, whom I loue as my brother whiche suckt my mothers brestes, and that thou shalt not be dispised,
These verses are found using AI-powered semantic similarity based on meaning and context. Results may occasionally include unexpected connections.
2 I wyll leade thee and bryng thee into my mothers house, that thou myghtest teache me, and that I myght geue thee drynke of the spiced wine, and of the sweete sappe of my pomegranates.
3 His left hande shalbe vnder my head, and his ryght hande shall imbrace me.
4 I 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.
1 By night in my bed I sought hym whom my soule loueth: yea diligently sought I him, but I found him not.
2 I will get vp thought & go about the citie, in the wayes in all the streates wyll I seeke hym whom my soule loueth: but when I sought him I founde him not.
3 The watchmen also that go about the citie, founde me to whom I sayde Sawe ye not hym whom my soule loueth?
4 So when I was a litle past them, I founde him whom my soule loueth: I haue gotten holde vpon hym, and wyll not let him go, vntyll I bryng him into my mothers house, and into her chaumber that bare me.
8 Our sister is but young and hath no brestes: what shall we do for our sister when she shalbe spoken for?
7 Tell 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?
8 If thou knowe not thy selfe (O thou fayrest among women) then go thy way foorth after the footesteppes of the sheepe, and feede thy goates besyde the shepheardes tentes.
9 Unto the hoast of Pharaos charets haue I compared thee, O my loue.
2 O that he would kisse me with the kisses of his mouth: for thy loue is more pleasaunt then wine,
19 Let her be as the louyng Hinde and pleasaunt Roe: let her breastes alway satisfie thee, and holde thee euer content with her loue.
20 Why wylt thou my sonne haue pleasure in a straunge woman, and embrace the bosome of a straunger?
9 Thou hast with loue bewitched my heart O my sister my spouse, thou hast bewitched my heart with one of thyne eyes, and with one chayne of thy necke.
10 O 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.
11 Thy lippes, O my spouse, drop as the hony combe, yea mylke and hony is vnder thy tongue, and the smell of thy garmentes is like the smell of Libanus.
12 A garden well locked is my sister, my spouse: a garden well locked, and a sealed well.
3 For when I my selfe was my fathers deare sonne, and tenderly beloued of my mother:
13 She caught hym and kissed him, and was not ashamed, saying:
10 I am a wall, and my brestes lyke towres, then was I as one that hath founde fauour in his syght.
1 I 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.
2 I 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.
6 O Howe faire and louely art thou my dearlyng in pleasures?
7 Thy stature is lyke a paulme tree, and thy breastes lyke the grapes.
8 I 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.
9 And 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.
10 I am my beloueds, and he shall turne hym vnto me.
5 Thy two breastes are lyke two twinnes of young Roes, whiche feede among roses.
6 O 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.
1 Whyther is thy loue gone then O thou fairest among women? whyther is thy loue departed, and we wyll seke hym with thee?
8 I charge you therfore O ye daughters of Hierusalem, yf ye fynde my beloued, that ye tell hym howe that I am sicke for loue.
9 What maner of man is thy loue aboue other louers, O thou fairest among women? Or what can thy loue do more then other louers, that thou chargest vs so straytly?
6 I opened vnto my beloued, but he was departed and gone his way: Now whe he spake, my heart was gone: I sought him, but I coulde not finde him: I cryed vpon hym, neuerthelesse he gaue me no aunswere.
13 a bundell of myrre is my loue vnto me, he wyll lye betwixt my brestes:
14 a cluster of Camphire in the vineyardes of Engaddi is my loue vnto me.
4 Drawe 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.
12 Why set they me vpon their knees? why gaue they me sucke with their brestes?
3 Thy two breastes are lyke two twinnes of young roes.
14 O get thee away my loue, and be as a roe or a young hart vpon the sweete smellyng mountaynes.
12 In 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:
3 Like as the apple tree among the trees of the wood: so is my beloued among the sonnes.
4 Say vnto wysdome, thou art my sister: and call vnderstanding thy kinsewoman:
6 Set about me cuppes of wine, comfort me with apples, for I am sicke of loue.
18 (For from my youth it hath growen vp with me as with a father, and from my mothers wombe I haue ben guyde to the wydowe)
11 For ye shall sucke comfort out of her breastes, and be satisfied: Ye shall taste, and haue delyte in the bryghtnesse of her glorie.
27 Hath my heart medled priuyly with any disceite? or did I euer kisse myne owne hande?
9 But thou art he that tokest me out of my mothers wombe: thou causedst me to trust in thee, suckyng my mothers breastes.
2 As for your mother, ye shall chyde with her and reproue her, for she is not my wyfe, neither am I her husbande: let her therefore put away her whordome from her face, and her adulterie from her brestes: