⁹ My dove, my undefiled is but one; she is the only one of her mother, she is the choice one of her that bare her. The daughters saw her, and blessed her; yea, the queens and the concubines, and they praised her.

¹⁰ Who is she that looketh forth as the morning, fair as the moon, clear as the sun, and terrible as an army with banners?

¹¹ I went down into the garden of nuts to see the fruits of the valley, and to see whether the vine flourished, and the pomegranates budded.

¹² Or ever I was aware, my soul made me like the chariots of Amminadib.

¹³ Return, return, O Shulamite; return, return, that we may look upon thee. What will ye see in the Shulamite? As it were the company of two armies.