“While the King sat at his table
My spikenard sent forth its odor.
My beloved is unto me as a bag of myrrh
That lieth between my breasts,
My beloved is unto me as a cluster of henna-flowers
In the vineyards of En-gedi.”
Shepherd Lover—
“Behold thou art fair, my love, behold thou art fair;
Thine eyes are as doves,
Behold thou art fair, my beloved, yea pleasant: