Edgar Saltus - Historia Amoris - A History of Love, Ancient and Modern

From the existing text, the original plan, and with it the original meaning, have disappeared. Many exegetes, notably Ewald, have demonstrated that the disappearance is due to manipulations and omissions, and many others, Renan in particular, have attempted reconstructions. The version here given is based on his. 3 3 Renan: Le Cantique des Cantiques. From it a few expressions, no longer in conformity with modern taste, and several passages, otherwise redundant, have been omited. By way of proem it may be noted that the Shulamite, previously abducted from her native village – a hamlet to the north of Jerusalem – is supposed to be forcibly brought into the presence of the king where, however, she has thought only of her lover.

Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth.

Thy love is better than delicious wine. Thy name is ointment poured forth. Therefore do we love thee.

The King hath brought me into his chamber. Draw me away, we will go together.

The upright love thee. We will be glad and rejoice in thee. We will remember thy love more than wine.

I am black but comely, O ye daughters of Jerusalem, comely as the tents of Kedar, as the curtains of Solomon. Do not disdain me because I am a little black. It is the sun that has burned me. My mother’s children were angry at me. They made me keeper of the vineyards. Alas! mine own vineyard I have not kept.

Tell me, O thou whom my soul loveth, where thou takest thy flocks to rest at noon that I may not wander among the flocks of thy comrades.

If thou knowest not, O thou fairest among women, follow the flock and feed thy kids by the shepherds’ tents.

To my horse, when harnessed to the chariot that Pharaoh sent me, I compare thee, O my love. Thy cheeks are comely with rows of pearls, thy neck with charms of coral. We will make for thee necklaces of gold, studded with silver.

While the King sitteth at his divan, my spikenard perfumes me and to me my beloved is a bouquet of myrrh, unto me he is as a cluster of cypress in the vines of Engedi.

Yes, thou art fair, my beloved. Yes, thou art fair. Thine eyes are the eyes of a dove.

Yes, thou art fair, my beloved. Yes, thou art charming, and our tryst is a litter of green.

The beams of our house are cedar and our rafters of fir.

I am the rose of Sharon The lily of the valley am I.

As a lily among thorns, so is my love among daughters.

As is the apple among fruit, so is my beloved among men. In delight I have sat in his shadow and his savor was sweet to my taste. He brought me to the banquet hall and put o’er me the banner of love.

Stay me with wine, strengthen me with fruit, for I am swooning with love.

His left hand is under my head and his right hand doth embrace me.

I charge you, O ye daughters of Jerusalem, by the roes and the hinds of the field, that ye stir not, nor awake my beloved till she will.

My own love’s voice. Arise, my fair one, he tells me, arise and let us go…

I charge you, O ye daughters of Jerusalem, that ye stir not, nor awake my beloved till she will.

Who is this that cometh out of the wilderness, exhaling the odor of myrrh and of frankincense and all the powders of the perfumer?

Behold the palanquin of Solomon. Three score valiant men are about it. They all hold swords…

King Solomon has had made for him a litter of Lebanon wood. The supports are of silver, the bottom of gold, the covering of purple. In the centre is a loved one, chosen from among the daughters of Jerusalem.

Come forth, daughters of Zion, and behold the King…

Yes, thou art fair, my love, yes, thou art fair. Thou hast dove’s eyes… Thou art all fair, my love. There is no spot on thee.

Come to me, my betrothed, come to me from Lebanon. Look at me from the top of Amana, from the summit of Shenir and Hermon, from the lion’s den and the mountain of leopards.

You have strengthened my heart, my sister betrothed, you have strengthened my heart with one of thine eyes, with one of the curls that float on thy neck. How dear is thy love, my sister betrothed! Thy caresses are better than wine, and the fragrance of thy garments is sweeter than spice.

Let my beloved come into his garden and eat its pleasant fruits.

I am come into my garden, my sister betrothed, I have gathered my myrrh with my spice. I have eaten my honeycomb with my honey. I have drunk my wine with my milk.

Eat, comrades, drink abundantly, friends.

I sleep but my heart waketh. I heard the voice of my beloved. He knocked. Open to me! he said. My sister, my love, my immaculate dove, open to me, for my head is covered with dew, the locks of my hair are wet … I rose to open to my beloved … but he was gone. My soul faileth me when he spoke not. I sought him, but I could not find him. I called him but he did not reply.

The watchman that went about the city found me, they smote me, they wounded me, and the keepers of the walls took away my veil.