Song of Songs 5

Coverdale(i) 1 Come 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. 2 As 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. 3 I haue put off my cote, how ca I do it on agayne? I haue washed my fete, how shal I fyle them agayne? 4 But whan my loue put in his hande at the hole, my hert was moued towarde him: 5 so that I stode vp to open vnto my beloued. My hades dropped wt Myrre, & the Myrre ranne downe my fyngers vpon ye lock. 6 Neuerthelesse 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. 7 So 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. 8 I charge you therfore (o ye doughters of Ierusalem) yf ye fynde my beloued, that ye tell him, how that I am sick for loue. 9 Who 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? 10 As for my loue, he is whyte and reade coloured, a synguler personne amonge many thousandes: 11 his heade is the most fyne golde, the lockes of his hayre are bu?shed, browne as the euenynge: 12 His eyes are as the eyes of doues by the water brokes, washen with mylck, and remaynynge in a plenteous place: 13 His chekes are like a garden bedd, where in the Apotecaryes plate all maner of swete thinges: His lippes droppe as the floures of the most pryncipall Myrre, 14 his hades are full of golde rynges and precious stones. His body is as the pure yuery, decte ouer with Saphyres: 15 His legges are as the pilers of Marbell, sett vpon sokettes of golde: His face is as Libanus, and as the bewty of the Cedre trees: 16 His throte is swete, yee he is alltogether louely. Soch one is my loue (o ye doughters of Ierusalem) soch one is my loue.