O Song off Songs o Song most pretious rare

To speak off the let no song elss compare

O Song that Superlatively exceed

All can be said o sweet song that feed

With Heavnly raptures with inchanted Stoūnds

Off love-sick flames, it both charmes and wounds

The soul that reads it, fixing all its darts

Within the centre off all Heavnly hearts

For majesty, let non with it compare

For melodie it is exceeding rare

For harmonie it is all one intire

For puritie it is the truth most pure

It ravisheth, it captivates, it charmes

All sound affections in the beloveds armes

This sweet dealgoue that point out the Love

Betwixt the creature and his Lord above

No wonder though the wisest off all men

Were chois'd to dip in the his sacred pen

No wonder though his name to this accord

[For] he was born beloved off the Lord

Come then sweet singer with thy heavnly Song

For I intend to heare you all a Long[.]