King Solomon comes in State

9

Who is this that cometh up out of the wilderness

Like pillars of smoke,

Perfumed with myrrh and frankincense,

With all powders of the merchant?

Behold, it is the litter of Solomon ;

Threescore mighty men are about it,

Of the mighty men of Israel.

They all handle the sword, and are expert in war: Every man hath his sword upon his thigh,

Because of fear in the night.

King Solomon made himself a palanquin
Of the wood of Lebanon.

He made the pillars thereof of silver,

The bottom thereof of gold,

The seat of it of purple,

The midst thereof being inlaid with love from the

daughters of Jerusalem.

Go forth, O ye daughters of Zion, and behold King Solomon,

With the crown wherewith his mother hath crowned

him

In the day of his espousals,

And in the day of the gladness of his heart.

KING SOLOMON

ΤΟ

Behold, thou art fair, my love; behold, thou art fair;
Thine eyes are as doves behind thy veil :

Thy hair is as a flock of goats

That lie along the side of Mount Gilead.

Thy teeth are like a flock of ewes that are newly shorn, Which are come up from the washing;

Whereof every one hath twins,

And none is bereaved among them.

Thy lips are like a thread of scarlet,
And thy mouth is comely.

Thy temples are like a piece of a pomegranate
Behind thy veil.

Thy neck is like the tower of David builded for an armoury, Whereon there hang a thousand bucklers,

All the shields of the mighty men.

Thy two breasts are like two fawns that are twins of a roe, Which feed among the lilies.

**

Until the day break, and the shadows flee away,
I will get me to the mountain of myrrh,
And to the hill of frankincense.

Come with me from Lebanon, my bride, with me from

Lebanon:

Go from the top of Amana,

From the top of Senir and Hermon,

From the lions' dens,

From the mountains of the leopards.

Thou hast ravished my heart, my sister, my bride; thou

hast ravished my heart

With one look from thine eyes,

With one chain of thy neck.

How fair is thy love, my sister, my bride!

How much better is thy love than wine!

And the smell of thine ointments than all manner of

spices!

Thy lips, O my bride, drop as the honeycomb :

Honey and milk are under thy tongue;

And the smell of thy garments is like the smell of
Lebanon.

13

A garden shut up is my sister, my bride,

A spring shut up,

A fountain sealed.

Thy shoots are an orchard of pomegranates,

With precious fruits;

Henna with spikenard plants,

Spikenard and saffron,

Calamus and cinnamon, with all trees of frankincense,

Myrrh and aloes, with all the chief spices.

Thou art a fountain of gardens,

A well of living waters,

And flowing streams from Lebanon.