7 The watchmen that went about the city found me, they smote me, they wounded me; the keepers of the walls took away my outer cloak from me.
8 I charge you, O virgins of Jerusalem, if ye should find my beloved that ye cause him to know how sick I am with love.
9 What is thy beloved more than another beloved, O thou fairest among women? What is thy beloved more than another beloved that thou dost so charge us?
10 My beloved is white and ruddy; the standard-bearer among the ten thousands.
11 His head is as the most fine gold, his locks are bushy and black as a raven.
12 His eyes are as doves by the rivers of waters, washed with milk, as doves that are next to abundance.
13 His cheeks are as a bed of aromatic spices, as fragrant flowers; his lips like lilies, dripping sweet smelling myrrh that transcends.