but yet am I faire & welfauoured withal. Maruell not at me yt I am so black, & why? ye Sonne hath shyned vpo me. For whan my mothers childre had euell wil at me, they made me ye keper of the vynyarde. Thus was I fayne to kepe a vynyarde, which was not myne owne.
These verses are found using AI-powered semantic similarity based on meaning and context. Results may occasionally include unexpected connections.
4yee 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.
5I am black (o ye doughters of Ierusale) like as the tentes of the Cedarenes, and as the hanginges of Salomon:
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,
8Yf thou knowe not yi self (o thou fayrest amoge women) tha go yi waye forth after ye fotesteppes of the shepe, as though thou woldest fede yi goates besyde ye shepherdes tentes.
9There wil I tary for the (my loue) wt myne hoost & with my charettes, which shalbe no fewer then Pharaos.
30My skynne vpo me is turned to black, & my bones are bret wt heate:
31my harpe is turned to sorow, & my pipe to wepinge.
7Hir absteyners (or Nazarees) were whyter then ye snowe or mylke: their coloure was fresh read as the Corall, their beutie like the Saphyre.
8But now their faces are very black: In so moch, that thou shuldest not knowe them in the stretes. Their skynne cleueth to their bones, It is wythered, and become like a drye stock.
5(Turne awaye thine eyes fro me, for they make me to proude) Thy hayrie lockes are like a flocke of goates vpon ye mount of Galaad.
10Oure skynne is as it had bene brent in an ouen, for very sore honger.
6Neuerthelesse wha I had opened vnto my beloued, he was departed, and gone his waye. Now like as afore tyme whan he spake, my hert coude no longer refrayne: Euen so now I sought hi, but I coude not fynde him: I cried vpon him, neuerthelesse he gaue me no answere.
7So the watchmen that wente aboute the cite, foude me, smote me, and wounded me: Yee they that kepte the walles, toke awaye my garmet fro me.
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?
10As for my loue, he is whyte and reade coloured, a synguler personne amonge many thousandes:
11his heade is the most fyne golde, the lockes of his hayre are bu?shed, browne as the euenynge:
1Now well than, I will synge my beloued frende a songe of his vynyearde. My beloued frende hath a vyneyearde in a very frutefull plenteous grounde.
21I am sore vexed, because of the hurte of my people: I am heuy and abashed,
10What is she this, that pepeth out as the mornynge? fayre as the Moone, excellent as the Sonne, glorious as an armye of men with their banners?
11I wente downe in to the nutt garden, to se what grew by the brokes, to loke yf the vynyarde florished, and yf the pomgranates were shot forth.
12Then the charettes of the prynce of my people made me sodenly afrayed.
16But they that feare the horefrost, the snowe shal fall vpon them.
1Whither is thy loue gone the (o thou fayrest amonge weme) whither is thy loue departed, that we maye seke him with 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.
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:
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.
1O that I might fynde the without & kysse ye, whom I loue as my brother which suckte my mothers brestes: & that thou woldest not be offended,
16My face is swolle with wepinge, & myne eyes are waxen dymne.
10There wil I turne me vnto my loue, and he shal turne him vnto me.
7They shal make my vinyarde waist, they shal pyll of the barckes of my fygetrees, strype them bare, cast them awaye, and make the braunches whyte.
3I haue put off my cote, how ca I do it on agayne? I haue washed my fete, how shal I fyle them agayne?
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.
12But my vynyarde (o Salomon) geueth the a thousande, and two hundreth to ye kepers of the frute.
13Thou that dwellest in the gardens, O let me heare thy voyce, that my companyons maye herken to the same.
7My countenaunce is heuy for very anger, & the membres of my body are become like a shadowe.
4What more coude haue bene done for it, that I haue not done? Wherfore then hath it geuen thornes, where I loked to haue had grapes of it?
1Wo is me: I am become as one, that goeth a gleenynge in the haruest. There are no mo grapes to eate, yet wolde I fayne (with all my herte) haue of the best frute.
12O ye all that go fore by, beholde and se, yf there be eny sorowe like vnto myne, wherwith the LORDE hath troubled me, in the daye of his fearefull wrath.
7My coutenauce is chaunged for very inwarde grefe, I cosume awaye, I haue so many enemies.
2Wherfore the is thy clothinge reade, & thy raymet like his yt treadeth in ye wyne presse?
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.
8Myne heretage is become vnto me, as a Lyon in the wod. It cried out vpon me, therfore haue I forsaken it.
10Yf I be a wall, & my brestes like towres, then am I as one that hath founde fauoure in his sight.
8I am become a straunger vnto my brethren, and an aleaunt vnto my mothers children.
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.
12But it is thou my companyon, my gyde and myne owne familier frede.
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.