8The voice of my beloved! behold, he cometh, Leaping upon the mountains, Skipping upon the hills.
9My beloved is like a roe or a young hart: Behold, he standeth behind our wall; He looketh in at the windows; He glanceth through the lattice.
10My beloved spake, and said unto me, Rise up, my love, my fair one, and come away.
11For, lo, the winter is past; The rain is over and gone;
12The flowers appear on the earth; The time of the singing [of birds] is come, And the voice of the turtle-dove is heard in our land;
13The fig-tree ripeneth her green figs, And the vines are in blossom; They give forth their fragrance. Arise, my love, my fair one, and come away.
14O my dove, that art in the clefts of the rock, In the covert of the steep place, Let me see thy countenance, Let me hear thy voice; For sweet is thy voice, and thy countenance is comely.
