Ambrose of Milan

Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth! For your love is more delightful than wine.

“But why do we doubt? The church has believed in his goodness all these ages and has confessed its faith in the saying, "Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth; for your breasts are better than wine," and again, "And your throat…”

The fragrance of your perfume is pleasing; your name is like perfume poured out. No wonder the maidens adore you.

“After this, you went up to the priest. Consider what followed. Was it not that of which David speaks: "Like the ointment upon the head, which went down to the beard, even Aaron's beard"?”

I am dark, yet lovely, O daughters of Jerusalem, like the tents of Kedar, like the curtains of Solomon.

“It is written, "Ethiopia shall stretch out her hand unto God." In this is signified the appearance of holy church, who says in the Song of Solomon, "I am black and comely, O daughters of Jerusalem": black through sin, comely through grace; black by natural…”

The beams of our house are cedars; our rafters are fragrant firs.

“The cedar is suitable for hanging roofs, because this type of wood is tall and spacious, but not burdensome to the walls. The cypress is also suitable for ceilings and gables.”

Like a lily among the thorns is my darling among the maidens.

“"I am the flower of the field, and the lily of the valleys, as a lily among thorns." This is a plain declaration that virtues are surrounded by the thorns of spiritual wickedness, so that no one can gather the fruit who does not approach…”

Like an apple tree among the trees of the forest is my beloved among the young men.

“The Church, following this ever-flourishing greenness of grace in Christ, says: "In his shadow I desired, and I sat."”

Sustain me with raisins; refresh me with apples, for I am faint with love.

“The Word of God inflicts a wound, but it does not produce a sore. There is a wound of righteous love, there are wounds of charity, as she has said, "I am wounded with love." The one who is perfect is wounded with love.”

Listen! My beloved approaches. Look! Here he comes, leaping across the mountains, bounding over the hills.

“For at first, impatient of love and unable to bear the delays of the Word, she prays to be worthy of kisses, and she deserved to see the desired.”

My beloved is like a gazelle or a young stag. Look, he stands behind our wall, gazing through the windows, peering through the lattice.

“Therefore, he comes, and first after the wall is removed, which seemed to be an obstacle to harmony, in order to dissolve the enmities between soul and body. Then he looks through the windows.”

My beloved is mine and I am his; he pastures his flock among the lilies.

“Without any loss therefore, he passed by the guardians, and the Word mixed with the daughters of that heavenly city seeks, and by seeking it arouses love in himself, and where it seeks the Word, it recognizes.”

Before the day breaks and shadows flee, turn, my beloved, and be like a gazelle or a young stag on the mountains of Bether.

“For thus he says: "I to my brother, and his desire is towards me." He repeats this meaning in a different way three times in the Song of Songs.”

On my bed at night I sought the one I love; I sought him, but did not find him.

“"In my bed, I sought the one whom my soul loves during the nights." Whoever seeks well, let them seek in their bed, let them seek during the nights, neither on holidays nor on nights of rest.”

Who is this coming up from the wilderness like a column of smoke, scented with myrrh and frankincense from all the spices of the merchant?

“Seeing therefore the daughters of Jerusalem cleaving to Christ and still ascending with Him (for He deigns frequently to meet with them who seek Him, and to descend to raise them), they say: Who is this that ascendeth from the desert?”

Come out, O daughters of Zion, and gaze at King Solomon, wearing the crown his mother bestowed on the day of his wedding— the day of his heart’s rejoicing.

“Therefore, when the bride reaches the rest of the bridegroom, they sing a wedding song, saying to the daughters of Jerusalem: Go forth and see King Solomon, in the crown with which his mother crowned him on the day of his wedding.”

How beautiful you are, my darling—how very beautiful! Your eyes are like doves behind your veil. Your hair is like a flock of goats streaming down Mount Gilead.

“But Christ, beholding his church, for whom he himself, as you find in the book of the prophet Zechariah, had put on filthy garments, now clothed in white raiment, seeing, that is, a soul pure and washed in the laver of regeneration, says, "Behold, you…”

Your teeth are like a flock of newly shorn sheep coming up from the washing; each has its twin, and not one of them is lost.

“[There is a] pleasing comparison to those that are shorn; for we know that goats both feed in high places without risk and securely find their food in rugged places, and then when shorn are freed from what is superfluous.”

My sister, my bride, you are a garden locked up, a spring enclosed, a fountain sealed.

“Therefore, beware that the strength of your mind is not weakened by a certain union of bodily pleasure, and that everything dissolves into its embrace, and it opens the fountain, which ought to be closed and sealed by the study of intention and the consideration…”

You are a garden spring, a well of fresh water flowing down from Lebanon.

“And about mystical wells it remains for us, which we also find in the Song of Songs, as Scripture says: A fountain of gardens, a well of living waters, and flowing down from Lebanon.”

Awake, O north wind, and come, O south wind. Breathe on my garden and spread the fragrance of its spices.

“Recognize also the voice of the church inviting us when it says, "Arise, O north wind, and come, O south wind, blow through my garden and let my ointments flow forth.”

I sleep, but my heart is awake. A sound! My beloved is knocking: “Open to me, my sister, my darling, my dove, my flawless one.

“She is now awakened from sleep by him, although she was keeping watch with her heart so that she might hear his voice at once when he knocked.”

I have taken off my robe—must I put it back on? I have washed my feet—must I soil them again?

“In this night of the world the garment of corporeal life is first to be taken off as the Lord divested himself in his flesh that for you he might triumph over the dominions and powers of this world.”

I rose up to open for my beloved. My hands dripped with myrrh, my fingers with flowing myrrh on the handles of the bolt.

“"I sleep, but my heart is awake." Let us learn what food and produce God feasts upon and in which ones he takes pleasure. He takes pleasure in this, if anyone dies to his sin, blots out his guilt, and destroys and buries his iniquities.”

I opened for my beloved, but he had turned and gone. My heart sank at his departure. I sought him, but did not find him.

“"I opened to my beloved, but my beloved had gone." What is this going? Simply that he has penetrated into the center of the mind as it was said to Mary, "And his sword will pierce your soul."”

My beloved is dazzling and ruddy, outstanding among ten thousand.

“"My beloved is white and ruddy." It is fitting, O virgin, that you should fully know him whom you love, and should recognize in him all the mystery of his divine nature and the body which he has assumed.”

His legs are pillars of marble set on bases of pure gold. His appearance is like Lebanon, as majestic as the cedars.

“Who indeed but Christ could dare to claim the church as his bride, whom he alone, and none other, has called from Libanus, saying, "Come here from Lebanon, my bride; come here from Lebanon"?”