7 I charge you, O ye daughters of Jerusalem, by the roes, and by the hinds of the field, that ye stir not, nor awake [my] love, till he please.
8 The voice of my beloved! behold, he cometh leaping upon the mountains, skipping upon the hills.
9 My beloved is like a roe, or a young hart: behold, he standeth behind our wall, he looketh forth at the windows, showing himself through the lattice.
10 My beloved spoke, and said to me, Rise, my love, my fair one, and come away.
11 For lo, the winter is past, the rain is over [and] gone.
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