Canter Bridge

Dan Fogelberg, that troubador of emotive angst, sang memorably that …

There’s a song in the heart of a woman
That only the truest of loves can release.

The love of the Shulamite’s Solomon has with regard to this woman’s song done exactly what Fogelberg exhorts: ‘Set it free.’

How he loves with word and body! How she responds with ardor’s song! The words of the Shulamite’s king merit rehearing in fulness:

How beautiful you are, my love,
how very beautiful!
Your eyes are doves
behind your veil.
Your hair is like a flock of goats,
moving down the slopes of Gilead.
Your teeth are like a flock of shorn ewes
that have come up from the washing,
all of which bear twins,
and not one among them is bereaved.
Your lips are like a crimson thread,
and your mouth is lovely.
Your cheeks are like halves of a pomegranate
behind your veil.
Your neck is like the tower of David,
built in courses;
on it hang a thousand bucklers,
all of them shields of warriors.
Your two breasts are like two fawns,
twins of a gazelle,
that feed among the lilies.
Until the day breathes
and the shadows flee,
I will hasten to the mountain of myrrh
and the hill of frankincense.
You are altogether beautiful, my love;
there is no flaw in you.
Come with me from Lebanon, my bride;
come with me from Lebanon.
Depart from the peak of Amana,
from the peak of Senir and Hermon,
from the dens of lions,
from the mountains of leopards.
 
You have ravished my heart, my sister, my bride,
you have ravished my heart with a glance of your eyes,
with one jewel of your necklace.
How sweet is your love, my sister, my bride!
how much better is your love than wine,
and the fragrance of your oils than any spice!
Your lips distill nectar, my bride;
honey and milk are under your tongue;
the scent of your garments is like the scent of Lebanon.
A garden locked is my sister, my bride,
a garden locked, a fountain sealed.
Your channel is an orchard of pomegranates
with all choicest fruits,
henna with nard,
nard and saffron, calamus and cinnamon,
with all trees of frankincense,
myrrh and aloes,
with all chief spices—
a garden fountain, a well of living water,
and flowing streams from Lebanon.

A woman’s beauty makes its impress on a man with a power almost unspeakable, though this Solomon has done his best to find the words. The curve, the glance, the voice, the allure whether ravishing or possessed of the greatest dignity, these are for a man the most potent facts on his ground. The biblical anthology recognizes this by addressing, even portraying this power with admirable abandon.

This deep, created impetus is ruinous or life-giving, depending upon the heroic strength (or not) with which one turns its force in wise directions. For many men who have heard the song, this is life’s greatest, most persistent challenge.

Men who know the song in the heart of a woman are forever condemned to live with its melody drifting about them. They cannot ignore it, only do their best to set it free in good, wise moments that restrain the eclectic luxuriance of its tuneful power.