Song of Solomon 2 WYC
Summary: The woman calls herself "a rose of Sharon, a lily of the valleys" (v. 1), and he answers that she is a lily among brambles compared to other young women. She in turn likens him to an apple tree among the trees of the forest, delighting in his shade and fruit, and describes being brought to a banqueting house under his banner of love, faint with lovesickness, his left hand under her head and right arm embracing her — prompting her refrain not to "stir up or awaken love until it pleases" (v. 7). She then recalls him bounding over the mountains like a gazelle to call her outside now that "the winter is past... the voice of the turtledove is heard in our land" (v. 11-12), warns of little foxes that spoil the vineyards, and ends affirming "my beloved is mine, and I am his" (v. 16) as he grazes among the lilies until daybreak.
1I am a flour of the feeld, and a lilye of grete valeis.
2As a lilie among thornes, so is my frendesse among douytris.
3As an apple tre among the trees of wodis, so my derlyng among sones. I sat vndur the shadewe of hym, whom Y desiride; and his fruyt was swete to my throte.
4The king ledde me in to the wyn celer; he ordeynede charite in me.
5Bisette ye me with flouris, cumpasse ye me with applis; for Y am sijk for loue.
6His left hond is vndur myn heed; and his riyt hond schal biclippe me.
7Ye douytris of Jerusalem, Y charge you greetli, bi capretis, and hertis of feeldis, that ye reise not, nether make to awake the dereworthe spousesse, til sche wole. The vois of my derlyng; lo!
8this derlyng cometh leepynge in mounteyns, and skippynge ouer litle hillis.
9My derlyng is lijk a capret, and a calf of hertis; lo! he stondith bihynde oure wal, and biholdith bi the wyndows, and lokith thorouy the latisis.
10Lo! my derlyng spekith to me, My frendesse, my culuer, my faire spousesse, rise thou, haaste thou, and come thou;
11for wyntir is passid now, reyn is goon, and is departid awei.
12Flouris apperiden in oure lond, the tyme of schridyng is comun; the vois of a turtle is herd in oure lond,
13the fige tre hath brouyt forth hise buddis; vyneris flourynge han youe her odour. My frendesse, my fayre spousesse, rise thou, haaste thou, and come thou.
14My culuer is in the hoolis of stoon, in the chyne of a wal with out morter. Schewe thi face to me, thi vois sowne in myn eeris; for thi vois is swete, and thi face is fair.
15Catche ye litle foxis to vs, that destrien the vyneris; for oure vyner hath flourid.
16My derlyng is to me, and Y am to hym, which is fed among lilies;
17til the dai sprynge, and schadewis be bowid doun. My derlyng, turne thou ayen; be thou lijk a capret, and a calf of hertis, on the hillis of Betel.
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