“His left hand should be under my head, and his right hand should embrace me” (viii, 4).
“How fair and how pleasant art thou, O love, for delights” (vii, 6).
“There are threescore queens and fourscore concubines, and virgins without number” (vi, 8).
“His mouth is most sweet; yea, he is altogether lovely. This is my beloved,” etc. (v, 16).
“Thy lips, O my spouse, drop as the honeycomb; honey and milk are under thy tongue” (iv, 11).
“Behold his bed, which is Solomon’s; threescore valiant men are about it,” etc. (iii, 7).
“His left hand is under my head, and his right hand doth embrace me” (ii, 6).
“Behold thou art fair, my love, behold thou art fair; thou hast doves’ eyes” (i, 15).
It is an outrage on decency even to attempt to construe the intent of these songs. The man sang about his woman, like any other swain who delights in his love. Solomon enjoyed nude beauties, as many men do in our day, and he represented the various parts of the female anatomy most accurately. He reveled in the luxurious contemplation of them. Pull down the curtain of hypocrisy and falsehood and let’s have the truth—as it was, as it is.
Solomon died at a pretty fair old age, having lived ninety-four years. The country had been harassed by robbers, the factions began to be restless, conspiracies were forming, and the people were nervously yet patiently waiting for a chance to revolt. No sooner was he dead than the nation split into two kingdoms. Henceforth this people as a nation is doomed. It soon disappears from the family of nations.