Contents -BIBLIOGRAPHIC RECORD

Edward Farr, ed. Select Poetry of the Reign of Queen Elizabeth. 1845.

Solomon’s Song. Chapter IV

L. Dudley Fenner

LOE, howe that thou art fayre,

Loe, faire thou art, my loue;

Thine eyes before thy lockes are like

To the eyes of a doue.

As of a flock of goates,

Such also is thy heare;

Of those same goates which doe vpon

The mount of Gilhad sheare.

Thy teeth like equall flocke,

Which come vpp from washing,

Which all doe bring foorth twinnes, whereof

None wanteth his offspringe.

Thy lipps like scarlet threede,

So comelie is thy speach;

As a pomgranate peece beyonde

Thy locks thy temples reach.

Thy necke, like Dauid’s towre,

Buylt for an armourie,

In which a thousand targets hang,

All shields of men mightie.

Resemble doe thy papps

Two young kidds which goates breed,

Such as are twinnes, and such as doe

Among the lilies feede.

Till that day shall appeare,

And these shades shall flee hence;

I will go to this mount of mirrh

And hill of frankomcense.

Thou art all fayr, my loue,

And no spotte found in thee:

From Libanon returne, my loue,

From Libanon with me.

From Amanah toppe thou

Shalt looke; from Schenir see;

From Hermon, and from lions’ dennes,

And mountes where leopards bee.

Sister, my spouse, my heart

Thou hast stole with one eye;

Myne heart thou hast stole with one chayne

Which on thy necke doeth lye.

How fayr are those thy loues,

My sister and spouse myne!

Of what goodnes are those thy loues,

More excellent then wine!

Better thine oyntments smell

Then all the spices will;

The honycombe both of thy lips,

O Spouse, they doe distill.

Vnder thy tounge honye

And milke are; and as well

The sauour of thy garments is

As the Libanon smell.

Sister, my spouse, as the

Garden inclos’de thou art;

As a spring of water enclos’d,

And a well sealed apart.

Thy gryfts they are, as of

A pomgranat orchard;

With the fruite of things precious,

As cypres with spiknard.

Spiknard, saffron, sweet canes,

Cinomon, with the rest

Of incense-trees, mirrh, and santall,

With all spice which is best.

O thou the fountayne of

The gardens and the well

Of liuing waters, which flowing

Doest Libanous excell;

Wake, north, and come, O south,

And on my garden blowe,

And all the spices thereof lett

The waters ouerflowe.

Let com to his garden

Him who is lou’d of me;

That he may eate the fruite of his

Things delicate which be.

Sister, my Spouse, into

My garden come am I;

I gather my myrrhe with my spice,

Also with my hony.

I eate my honycombe;

With my milk drinck my wine:—

Eate, O my freendes, drinck, and be fill’d,

Ye well-beloued myne.