14. My dove, in the clefts of the rock, In the covert of the precipice, Let me see thy countenance, let me hear thy voice; For sweet is thy voice, and thy countenance is comely.
15. Take us the foxes, The little foxes, that spoil the vineyards; For our vineyards are in bloom.
16. My beloved is mine, and I am his; He feedeth his flock among the lilies,
17. Until the day dawn, and the shadows flee away. Turn, my beloved: be thou like a gazelle or a young hart, Upon the mountains of Bether.