5I rose up to open to my beloved; And my hands droppeth with myrrh, And my fingers with liquid myrrh, Upon the handles of the bolt.
6I opened to my beloved; But my beloved had withdrawn himself, [and] was gone. My soul had failed me when he spake: I sought him, but I could not find him; I called him, but he gave me no answer.
7The watchmen that go about the city found me, They smote me, they wounded me; The keepers of the walls took away my mantle from me.
8I adjure you, O daughters of Jerusalem, If ye find my beloved, That ye tell him, that I am sick from love.
9What is thy beloved more than [another] beloved, O thou fairest among women? What is thy beloved more than [another] beloved, That thou dost so adjure us?
10My beloved is white and ruddy, The chiefest among ten thousand.
11His head is [as] the most fine gold; His locks are bushy, [and] black as a raven.
