5
I rose up to open to my kinsman; my hands dropped myrrh, my fingers choice myrrh, on the handles of the lock.
6
I opened to my kinsman; my kinsman was gone: my soul failed at his speech: I sought him, but found him not; I called him, but he answered me not.
7
The watchman that go their rounds in the city found me, they smote me, they wounded me; the keepers of the walls took away my veil from me.
8
I have charged you, O daughters of Jerusalem, by the powers and the virtues of the field: if ye should find my kinsman, what are ye to say to him? That I am wounded with love.
9
What is thy kinsman than kinsman, O thou beautiful among women? what is thy kinsman than kinsman, that thou hast so charged us?
The Brenton translation of the Septuagint is in the public domain.