Deliver thyself as a doe from the hand, and as a bird from the hand of the fowler.
To shew forth thy mercy in the morning, and thy truth in the night:
But a net is spread in vain before the eyes of them that have wings.
Unto the end, for the octave, a psalm for David.
I adjure you, O ye daughters of Jerusalem, by the roes, and the harts of the, fields, that you stir not up, nor make the beloved to awake, till she please.
My beloved is like a roe, or a young hart. Behold he standeth behind our wall, looking through the windows, looking through the lattices.