Coverdale(i) 1 Whither is thy loue gone the (o thou fayrest amonge weme) whither is thy loue departed, that we maye seke him with the? 2 My loue is gone downe in to his garden, vnto ye swete smellinge beddes, that he maye refresh himself in the garden, and gather floures. 3 My loue is myne, and I am his, which fedeth amonge the lilies. 4 Thou art pleasaunt (o my loue) euen as louelynesse itself, thou art fayre as Ierusalem, glorious as an armye of men with their baners 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. 6 Thy teth are like a flock of shepe yt be clypped, which go out of the washinge place: where euery one beareth two twyns, & not one vnfrutefull amoge them. 7 Thy chekes are like a pece of a pomgranate, besydes yt which lyeth hid within. 8 There are thre score quenes, foure score concubynes, and yonge weme without nombre. 9 But one is my doue, my derlynge. She is the onely beloued of hir mother, & deare vnto her that bare her. Wha the daughters sawe her, they sayde she was blessed: Yee the quenes and concubines praysed her. 10 What 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? 11 I 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. 12 Then the charettes of the prynce of my people made me sodenly afrayed. 13 Turne againe, turne againe (O thou Sulamite) turne agayne, turne agayne, that we maye loke vpon the. What pleasure haue ye more in ye Sulamite, than when she daunseth amonge the men of warre?