Come with me from Lebanon, my bride, come with me from Lebanon. Descend from the crest of Amana, from the top of Senir, the summit of Hermon, from the lions' dens and the mountain haunts of the leopards. (Song of Songs 4:8)

An older translation offers "Come thee with me to Lebanon." I prefer this sense of the Lover inviting the Beloved to travel together to place far-away and exotic.

Together let us climb the summits. Together let us sleep with lions. Together let us walk among the leopards.

Love is not safe. To love and be loved is to be vulnerable. To love and be loved is to be challenged, to take risks, and to fully engage the world.

Above is from the Rothschild Canticles. In the upper half of the image, a naked woman dances before a unicorn. To the left, a woman, fully clothed and seated with a bucket by her side, gestures to her companion. In the lower register, a seated woman embraces the unicorn while a man stabs it with a spear. A mounted rider wearing a crown rides into the scene from the right. In seeking to capture the unicorn we too often destroy it. For a larger image click above.

Until the day breaks and the shadows flee, I will go to the mountain of myrrh and to the hill of incense. All beautiful you are, my darling; there is no flaw in you. (Song of Songs 4:6-7)

The Lover beholds his Beloved in the moonlight.

Where is the fragrant mountain? What is the perfumed hill?

Are these places or perhaps aspects of the Beloved?

We are creatures of sense: sight, hearing, touch, and scent.

Our senses can take us far without ever taking a step.

In his commentary on the first seven verses of the fourth chapter of the Song of Songs, Adam Clarke, an early 19th Century Biblical scholar, notes a similarity to the poetry of the early 13th Century Sanskrit poet Jayadeva, "Thy lips, O thou most beautiful among women, are a bandhujiva flower; the lustre of the madhuca beams upon thy cheek; thine eye outshines the blue lotos; thy nose is a bud of the tila; the cunda blossom yields to thy teeth. Surely thou descendedst from heaven, O slender damsel! attended by a company of youthful goddesses; and all their beauties are collected in thee... Thy two breasts, ask those two round hillocks which receive pure dew drops from the garland playing on thy neck, and the buds on whose tops start aloft with the thought of thy beloved." Below is an illustration of the lovers from the Gita Govinda by Jayadeva.

Your neck is like the tower of David, built with elegance; on it hang a thousand shields, all of them shields of warriors. Your two breasts are like two fawns, like twin fawns of a gazelle that browse among the lilies. (Song of Songs 4:4-5)

The Lover continues with his - sometimes strange - similes.

Her long neck is admired. The translator admits that elegance is only a guess. The Hebrew is talpiyah. Another translator chose "rows of stone" and added meaning is doubtful. This is the only appearance of the word in scripture.

Her breasts are young and delicate as fawns grazing among the lilies or shoshannim which is derived from suws meaning to exult and rejoice.

Love cannot be love without vulnerability. No matter how strong our towers, it is in yielding to the other that we find joy.

Which is Lover and which is Beloved is - or can be - lost as each puts aside the strong shield, cultivated elegance, and carefully sculpted mask we have crafted in defense.

In Love the two are left as twin fawns exulting in shared fragility.

Your teeth are like a flock of sheep just shorn, coming up from the washing. Each has its twin; not one of them is alone. Your lips are like a scarlet ribbon; your mouth is lovely. Your temples behind your veil are like the halves of a pomegranate (Songs of Songs 4: 2-3)

The Lover continues his praise: the Beloved has all her teeth.

This is an aspect of beauty I might not have emphasized.

Scarlet lips, blushing skin... these remain remarkable.

I am fortunate to live in an age and place where a full set of teeth is expected.

What other good fortune do I neglect?

Above is from the Rothschild Canticles. Christ is seated atop a tower-shaped fountain with three gargoyle shaped spouts from which water with the faces of the blessed issues forth. Behind Christ and the fons vitae is a mountain with five trees.

How beautiful you are, my darling! Oh, how beautiful! Your eyes behind your veil are doves. Your hair is like a flock of goats descending from Mount Gilead. (Song of Songs 4:1)

The Lover responds with a cascade of praise.

Eyes that gently and intently gather or suddenly rise as one and dance in the sky.

Curls of brown, gold, tan, and flax tumbling down the mountain side glistening at sundown.

The Hebrew for dove and for wine are each derived from a word meaning to effervesce.

Goat - the Hebrew is 'ez - is derived from 'azaz meaning to be strong.

A simile asserts similiarity where most would perceive only essential differences.

The purpose, according to Samuel Johnson, is to "illustrate and ennoble the subject."

This is certainly the purpose of a Lover.

Come out, you daughters of Zion, and look at King Solomon wearing the crown, the crown with which his mother crowned him on the day of his wedding, the day his heart rejoiced. (Song of Songs 3:11)

Crowns are used across cultures to communicate authority and position.

In the Judeo-Christian tradition - and some others - the crown is also a symbol of God's blessing.

At their wedding a Jewish bride and groom would wear a garland reflecting their role in the celebration and the blessing they had received.

The premise is one of authority derived from God's grace and blessing.

The blessing is acknowledged, its responsibility accepted, and the role is publicly communicated in the crown.

We are more apt to pursue power than receive blessing, and this has long been the way of the world.

But in the ways of Love we would be well-served to be more attentive to blessings offered.

King Solomon made for himself the carriage; he made it of wood from Lebanon. Its posts he made of silver, its base of gold. Its seat was upholstered with purple, its interior lovingly inlaid by [a] the daughters of Jerusalem. (Song of Songs 3:9-10)

A beautiful and - more to the point - impressive conveyance.

But to where is it to convey him? What is the King's destination?

The Beloved does not ask these questions. But she is suitably impressed by the carriage.

Is she but another conveyance? Is she but another way to impress?

How often is this what we seek from our Lover? Our Beloved? Even our God?

Above is from the Rothschild Canticles. The vignette in the center represents Adam instructing King Solomon. Click on the image for a larger version.