Song of Songs 1:4
yee that same moueth me also to renne after the. The kynge hath brought me into his preuy chambre. We wil be glad & reioyce in the, we thynke more of thy brestes then of wyne: well is them that loue the.
yee that same moueth me also to renne after the. The kynge hath brought me into his preuy chambre. We wil be glad & reioyce in the, we thynke more of thy brestes then of wyne: well is them that loue the.
These verses are found using AI-powered semantic similarity based on meaning and context. Results may occasionally include unexpected connections.
2O that thy mouth wolde geue me a kysse, for yi brestes are more pleasaunt then wyne,
3& that because of the good and pleasaunt sauoure. Thy name is a swete smellynge oyntment, therfore do the maydens loue the:
6O that I might go to the mountayne of Myrre, and to the hyll of frankynsense: till the daye breake, and till the shadowes be past awaye.
7Thou art all fayre (o my loue) & no spott is there in the.
8Come to me from Libanus (o my spouse) come to me from Libanus: come soone the next waye from the toppe of Amana, from the toppe of Sanir and Hermon, from the Lyons dennes and from the mountaynes of ye leopardes.
9Thou hast wouded my hert (o my sister, my spouse) thou hast wounded my hert, with one of thine eyes, and with one cheyne of thy neck.
10O how fayre and louely are thy brestes, my sister, my spouse? Thy brestes are more pleasaunt then wyne, and the smell of thy oyntmentes passeth all spices.
11Thy lippes (o my spouse) droppe as the hony combe, yee mylck and hony is vnder thy tonge, and the smell of thy garmentes is like the smell of frankynsense.
5I am black (o ye doughters of Ierusale) like as the tentes of the Cedarenes, and as the hanginges of Salomon:
3Like as the aple tre amonge the trees of the wodd, so is my beloued amonge the sonnes. My delite is to sitt vnder his shadowe, for his frute is swete vnto my throte.
4He bryngeth me in to his wyne seller, and loueth me specially well.
5Refresh me wt grapes, coforte me with apples, for I am sick of loue.
6His left hade lyeth vnder my heade, & his right hande enbraceth me.
7I charge you (o ye doughters of Ierusalem (by the Roes & hyndes of the felde, yt ye wake not vp my loue ner touch her, till she be content herself.
5That heade that stondeth vpon the is like Carmel: The hayre of thy heade is like the kynges purple folden vp in plates.
6O how fayre and louely art thou (my derlynge) in pleasures?
1Whither is thy loue gone the (o thou fayrest amonge weme) whither is thy loue departed, that we maye seke him with the?
7Tell me (o thou whom my soule loueth) where thou fedest, where thou restest at the noone daye: lest I go wronge, and come vnto the flockes of thy companyons,
10My beloued answered & sayde vnto me: O stode vp my loue, my doue, my beutyfull, & come:
1Come in to my garden o my sister, my spouse: I haue gathered my Myrre wt my spyce. I wil eate my hony and my hony cobe, I wil drynke my wyne & my mylk Eate o (ye frendes) drynke and be mery, o ye beloued.
2As I was a slepe, & my hert wakynge, I herde the voyce of my beloued, wha he knocked. Open to me (sayde he) o my sister, my loue, my doue, my derlinge: for my heade is full of dew, and ye lockes of my hayre are full of the night droppes.
13for a bodell of Myrre (o my beloued) lyeth betwixte my brestes.
14A cluster of grapes of Cypers, or of the vynyardes of Engaddi, art thou vnto me, O my beloued.
15O how fayre art thou (my loue) how fayre art thou? thou hast doues eyes.
9There wil I tary for the (my loue) wt myne hoost & with my charettes, which shalbe no fewer then Pharaos.
9and thy throte like the best wyne. This shalbe pure & cleare for my loue, his lippes and teth shal haue their pleasure.
10There wil I turne me vnto my loue, and he shal turne him vnto me.
11O come on my loue, let vs go forth in to the felde, and take oure lodginge in the vyllages.
12In the mornynge wil we ryse by tymes, and go se the vynyarde: yf it be spronge forth, yf the grapes be growne, & yf the pomgranates be shott out. There wil I geue the my brestes:
8I charge you therfore (o ye doughters of Ierusalem) yf ye fynde my beloued, that ye tell him, how that I am sick for loue.
9Who is thy loue aboue other louers, O thou fayrest amonge wemen? Or, what can thy loue do, more then other louers, that thou chargest vs so straitly?
3The watchmen that go aboute ye cite, founde me. Sawe ye not him, whom my soule loueth?
4So whan I was a litle past them, I foude him whom my soule loueth. I haue gotten holde vpon him, and wyl not let him go, vntill I brynge him into my mothers house, and in to hir chambre that bare me.
5I charge you (o ye doughters of Ierusale) by the Roes and hyndes of the felde, that ye wake not vp my loue ner touch her, till she be content herself.
6Who is this, that commeth out of ye wyldernesse like pilers of smoke, as it were a smell of Myrre, frankencense and all maner spyces of the Apotecary?
2yf I toke the and brought the in to my mothers house: that thou mightest teach me, and that I might geue the drynke of spyced wyne and of the swete sappe of my pomgranates.
3His left hande lyeth vnder my heade, & his right hande embraceth me.
4I charge you (o ye daughters of Ierusale) that ye wake not vp my loue ner touch her, tyll she be content herself.
5What is she this, that cometh vp from the wildernes, and leaneth vpon hir loue? I am the same that waked the vp amonge the aple trees, where thy mother beare ye, where yi mother brought the in to the worlde.
18Come, let vs lye together, & take oure pleasure till it be daye light.
16His throte is swete, yee he is alltogether louely. Soch one is my loue (o ye doughters of Ierusalem) soch one is my loue.
13Thou that dwellest in the gardens, O let me heare thy voyce, that my companyons maye herken to the same.
14O get the awaye (my loue) as a roo or a yonge hert vnto the swete smellinge moutaynes.
4Thou art pleasaunt (o my loue) euen as louelynesse itself, thou art fayre as Ierusalem, glorious as an armye of men with their baners
15Thou art a well of gardens, a well of lyuynge waters, which renne downe from Libanus.
16Vp thou northwynde, come thou southwynde, and blowe vpo my garde, that the smell therof maye be caried on euery syde: Yee that my beloued maye come in to my garden, & eate of the frutes and apples that growe therin.
1O how fayre art thou (my loue) how fayre art thou? thou hast doues eyes besyde that which lyeth hid within.
13The fyge tre bryngeth forth hir fyges, the vynes beare blossoms, and haue a good smell. O stode vp my loue, my beutyfull, and come
14(my doue) out of the caues of the rockes, out of the holes of the wall: O let me se thy countenaunce and heare thy voyce, for swete is thy voyce and fayre is thy face.
19Louynge is the hynde, and frendly is the Roo: let her brestes alwaye satisfie the, and holde the euer content with hir loue.