The drums, trumps, cornets at length sink to slumber;
By Solomon’s couch, as he lieth sleeping,
Full-girded angels the watch are keeping,
On either side six thousand in number.
The monarch protect they from cares while dreaming,
And as he frowns in his slumbers nightly,
From out of their sheaths straight draw they lightly
Twelve thousand swords, all fiercely gleaming.
But presently back in their sheaths are falling
The angels’ swords. The brow of the sleeper
Grows smooth, his slumber is softer and deeper,
And soon his lips are gently calling:
“O Sulamith, thou whom so dearly I cherish!
“O’er countries and kingdoms I rule, great and glorious,
“Of Israel and Judah the monarch victorious,
“But if thou’lt not love me, I wither and perish.”