5 Sustain me with grape-cakes, Support me with citrons, for I 'am' sick with love.
6 His left hand 'is' under my head, And his right doth embrace me.
7 I have adjured you, daughters of Jerusalem, By the roes or by the hinds of the field, Stir not up nor wake the love till she please!
8 The voice of my beloved! lo, this -- he is coming, Leaping on the mountains, skipping on the hills.
9 My beloved 'is' like to a roe, Or to a young one of the harts. Lo, this -- he is standing behind our wall, Looking from the windows, Blooming from the lattice.