⁸ They are wet with the showers of the mountains, And embrace the rock for want of a shelter.

⁵ They that did feed delicately are desolate in the streets: They that were brought up in scarlet embrace dunghills.

² I was asleep, but my heart waked: It is the voice of my beloved that knocketh, `saying', Open to me, my sister, my love, my dove, my undefiled; For my head is filled with dew, My locks with the drops of the night.

³⁸ (of whom the world was not worthy), wandering in deserts and mountains and caves, and the holes of the earth.