9But my dove, my undefiled, is the one; She is the incomparable one of her mother, The darling of her that bore her. The daughters saw her, and blessed her; The queens and concubines, and they praised her.
10Lov. Who is this that looketh forth like the morning, Fair as the moon, bright as the sun, And terrible as an army with banners?
11M. I went down into the garden of nuts, To see the green plants of the valley, To see whether the vine blossomed, And the pomegranates budded.