Rotherham(i)
8 [SHE] The voice of my beloved! Lo! here he cometh,––leaping over the mountains, skipping over the hills.
9 Resembleth, my beloved, a gazelle, or a young stag,––Lo! here he is, standing behind our wall, looking in at the windows, peeping in at the lattice.
10 Responded my beloved, and said to me,––Rise up! my fair––my beautiful––one, and come away,
11 For lo, the winter, is past,––the rain, is over, [and] gone;
12 The flowers, have appeared in the earth, the time of the spring–song, hath come,––and, the voice of the turtle, is heard in our land;
13 The fig–tree, hath spiced her green figs, and, the vines––all blossom, yield fragrance,––Rise up! my fair––my beautiful––one, and come away!
14 [HE] O my dove! In the retreats of the crag, in the hiding–place of the terrace, Let me see thy form, Let me hear thy voice,––For, thy voice, is sweet, and, thy form, comely.
14 [HE] O my dove! In the retreats of the crag, in the hiding–place of the terrace, Let me see thy form, Let me hear thy voice,––For, thy voice, is sweet, and, thy form, comely.