The clause most naturally anticipates dawn rather than evening. The verb יָפוּחַ (yāpûaḥ), a Qal imperfect of פּוּחַ (pûaḥ, “to breathe” or “blow”), depicts the day as beginning to stir or breathe. “Cool” is an interpretive addition in some English renderings, since the Hebrew does not explicitly mention coolness. The accompanying image, “the shadows flee” (וְנָסוּ הַצְּלָלִים, wenāsû haṣṣelālîm), strongly favors sunrise: darkness and its shadows retreat as daylight advances. At evening shadows lengthen rather than flee. This temporal formula recurs in 4:6, where it likewise marks the interval until the night has passed. In the immediate context, the woman has celebrated her beloved’s approach and professed their mutual belonging (2:8-16). Her imperative סֹב (sōb), Qal imperative of סָבַב (sābab, “turn, go around, return”), is therefore best taken as a request directed to the beloved during a temporary nocturnal separation: he is to turn or return, moving with the swift freedom of a gazelle or young stag, until the dawning day removes the darkness that now divides them. The comparison develops the animal imagery already associated with the beloved in 2:9. Some interpreters have understood the line as referring to the evening breeze, taking the command as a request for the beloved to depart for the night. That reading accounts for the possibility that סֹב may mean “turn away,” but it does less justice to the flight of the shadows and to the woman’s affectionate address, “my beloved.” The verse closes the scene with desire for reunion rather than a dismissal. Its language is poetic and does not require a literal chronology, but the dominant movement is from present absence toward the morning when separation gives way to renewed presence.

The feminine plural participles most naturally continue the image of the doves, not the masculine possessed dual “his eyes” (עֵינָיו, ʿênāyw). Both רֹחֲצוֹת (roḥăṣôt, Qal feminine plural participle, “bathing” or “washed”) and יֹשְׁבוֹת (yōšĕbôt, Qal feminine plural participle, “sitting” or “dwelling”) agree grammatically with יוֹנִים (yônîm, “doves”), a feminine plural noun. The line thus portrays doves at watercourses, radiant as though washed in milk and resting at abundant pools; the beloved’s eyes are compared to that scene. This grammatical attachment does not remove the metaphorical reference to the eyes. The dove imagery evokes dark, gentle, living eyes, while the water and milk supply the complementary features of brightness, cleanness, and well-defined beauty. “Bathed in milk” is poetic imagery rather than a literal ornithological description. It likely alludes especially to the clear white surrounding the dark pupil, or more generally to the luminous purity of the whole visual impression. The participles create a moving tableau in which the doves are refreshed and settled, and that tableau defines the appearance of the man’s eyes as tranquil, clear, and richly beautiful. The comparison also develops language already used of the woman’s eyes, which are twice likened to doves (1:15; 4:1). Such reciprocal description belongs to the poem’s mutual praise: the man and woman are presented as correspondingly beautiful in one another’s sight. Here, however, the doves are located beside channels of water and pools of fullness, so the image emphasizes abundance and repose rather than simply the softness or fidelity often associated with doves elsewhere in Scripture.

The thousand and the two hundred are best read as monetary figures drawn from the leasing imagery of v. 11, though the poetry does not require a literal commercial transaction. The definite noun הָאֶלֶף (haʾelep, “the thousand”) deliberately recalls the thousand pieces of silver that each keeper was to bring for Solomon’s vineyard at Baal-hamon. The added “two hundred” is elliptical, with “pieces of silver” understood from the preceding context. It designates a further allotment for the vineyard’s custodians, נֹטְרִים (noṭerim), a Qal masculine plural participle of נטר (nṭr), “to keep, guard.” Thus the verse presents the vineyard as productive enough to yield a royal payment and compensation for those who tend its fruit. Yet the distribution does not surrender the woman’s ownership. “My vineyard, which is mine, is before me” asserts that it stands at her own disposal. Unlike Solomon’s vineyard, which is administered through keepers who owe him its proceeds, her vineyard remains under her personal authority, even while she can assign its fruit as she chooses. The reference to Solomon and his keepers is therefore a courtly contrast shaped by the imagery of v. 11: Solomon may receive the conventional royal thousand, and the attendants their two hundred, but the woman herself determines the disposition of her vineyard. In the poem’s established metaphorical movement, the vineyard continues to signify the bride’s person and exclusive marital fruitfulness; the language resists Solomon’s possessive, harem-like economy without denying the elevated royal idiom in which the Song is framed.

The figures deliberately recall the thousand pieces of silver paid to Solomon for the vineyard at Baal-hamon in v. 11, while adding a distinct allotment for those who guard its fruit. The line is elliptical, as Hebrew poetry commonly permits: “the thousand [is] for you, Solomon, and two hundred [are] for the keepers of its fruit.” The preposition lĕ, “for,” marks the assigned recipients. The participle nōṭĕrîm, “keepers” or “guardians,” derives from nāṭar, a verb used in the Song both for keeping vineyards and for guarding what is precious. The two hundred therefore most naturally denotes the compensation or share due to those who tend and protect the vineyard’s yield. The woman’s declaration, “My vineyard, which is mine, is before me,” establishes her authority over this vineyard before the allocations are named. The expression lĕpānay, literally “before me,” conveys that it stands at her disposal or under her oversight. In contrast to Solomon’s extensive leased estate, administered through keepers who must render its stipulated return, her vineyard is personally hers. Yet the statement that Solomon receives the thousand need not mean that she has surrendered her vineyard to him. It may be read as a poised acknowledgment that the royal owner receives the conventional royal revenue, while the keepers receive their proper portion, but she herself retains possession and direction of her own vineyard. The numbers should not be pressed into a precise agricultural accounting scheme. A thousand, already associated with Solomon’s vineyard in v. 11, functions as a substantial, royal-scale return; two hundred identifies a real but subordinate share for the laborers. Their proportion underscores the contrast: Solomon’s wealth and arrangements belong to the public economy of royal vineyards, whereas the woman speaks of her own vineyard as present to her and subject to her keeping. Within the Song’s figurative language, the verse preserves both the beloved woman’s integrity and the ordered distinction between Solomon, the custodians, and the one to whom the vineyard properly belongs.

The sister’s lack of breasts is primarily a literal and culturally intelligible indication that she has not yet reached physical maturity for marriage. The adjective קְטַנָּה (qĕṭannâ, feminine singular, “little” or “young”) and the plural שָׁדַיִם (šādayim, “breasts”) identify her as a prepubescent or immature girl in contrast to a woman ready for marital negotiation. The concern expressed by the first-person plural is therefore anticipatory: the family considers how her chastity, reputation, and eventual marriage prospects should be guarded when the time comes for men to speak concerning her. The following verse confirms that the imagery begins with an actual younger sister but develops it figuratively. If she is a wall, the family will build upon her; if she is a door, they will enclose her with cedar boards (v. 9). “Wall” and “door” depict contrasting patterns of sexual reserve and accessibility, while the breasts in v. 8 mark the bodily stage before such questions of courtship become immediate. The woman’s response in v. 10, “I am a wall, and my breasts are like towers,” recalls this earlier family concern and declares that she has reached maturity while remaining sexually secure. Later allegorical readings have often extended the little sister to Israel, the church, or immature believers, but such readings must rest upon the poem’s literal familial and marital imagery rather than replace it. The verse itself concerns a young girl whose family anticipates the responsibilities accompanying her coming adulthood.

The first-person plural suffix in בְּאַרְצֵנוּ (beʾarṣēnû, “in our land”) does not signal the entrance of a chorus or a change in speaker. The beloved’s invitation, begun in 2:10, continues through 2:13 and is addressed to the woman. By calling the land “our land,” he speaks of the countryside as the shared sphere in which he and the woman may enjoy the newly arrived spring. The phrase gives verbal expression to the mutuality that characterizes the poem’s love language without requiring that the pair already be married or that they jointly possess a particular estate. אַרֶץ (ʾereṣ) can denote land, territory, or country, and in this pastoral setting it refers broadly to the cultivated and open landscape marked by flowers, vines, fig trees, and migratory birds. The turtledove’s voice is heard throughout this common land, making the season an objective reality rather than a private fantasy. The plural possessive also suits the poem’s movement from individual summons to shared delight: spring has made the whole landscape a fitting setting for the lovers’ meeting. It should not be pressed into an allegorical identification of the land with Israel, the church, or a particular locale; its immediate poetic function is to portray a world of renewed fertility and mutual belonging.

The phrase portrays the beloved's beauty as awe-inspiring and majestically commanding, not as physically threatening or morally dreadful. The adjective אֲיֻמָּה (ʾăyummâ), a feminine singular form from the root איים (ʾym), denotes that which inspires fear, awe, or trembling because of its overwhelming power or splendor. In the sequence, she is “beautiful” (יָפָה, yāpâ), “comely” (נָאוָה, nāʾwâ), and finally awesome. The imagery therefore intensifies the praise: her appearance possesses a regal dignity before which the lover stands overcome. The comparison כַּנִּדְגָּלוֹת (kannidgālôt) is literally “like the bannered ones,” with the feminine plural Niphal participle of דגל (dgl), “to be arrayed under banners” or “to be marshaled.” English versions commonly supply “army” or “hosts” because banners belong especially to ordered military companies, as in Israel's tribal encampment under standards in Numbers 1:52 and 2:2. The point is not that the woman resembles a battle force in violence; rather, a well-ordered army displaying its standards presents an imposing, coherent, and unconquerable sight. Her loveliness combines attractiveness with sovereign poise. The repetition of the same expression in 6:10 confirms that it functions as a distinctive poetic description of her radiance. There her brightness is compared with the dawn, moon, and sun before she is called “awesome as the bannered hosts.” The military metaphor thus belongs with celestial and royal imagery: it expresses splendor that evokes reverent astonishment. The comparison with Tirzah and Jerusalem similarly frames her beauty in terms of the two great cities' desirability and grandeur, culminating in the language of majestic awe.

The fig tree is not said to bear fully ripe figs; it has begun to produce its early, still-developing fruit. The feminine singular Qal perfect חָנְטָה (ḥāneṭâ, “has formed” or “has ripened”) takes the construct plural פַגֶּיהָ (paggêhā, “its early figs”). פַּג (pag) denotes an unripe fig, especially the small initial fruit rather than the mature harvest. The clause therefore portrays the visible onset of fruitfulness, corresponding to the passing winter and the appearance of flowers in vv. 11-12. The parallel reference to the vines does not require grapes already to be present. The vines are in סְמָדַר (sĕmādar), a term for blossom or the flowering stage, and they “give” (נָתְנוּ, nātĕnû, Qal perfect plural) their fragrance. The paired images depict the spring transition from barrenness to fertility: figs have formed, vines are flowering, and their scent fills the air. Although the precise calendar sequence of fig and vine development can vary with climate and variety, the language is poetically coherent as an evocation of the Palestinian spring. In the immediate context, this renewed and fragrant world supplies the setting for the lover’s summons to his beloved to arise and depart with him; the seasonal imagery intensifies the joy and vitality of their mutual love rather than functioning first as an independent allegory.

The clause is best read as an optative wish: “may it not lack mixed wine,” rather than as a simple assertion that the bowl is full. The negative particle ʾal ordinarily introduces a prohibition with an imperfect, but in poetic praise it can carry a jussive or desiderative force. Thus ʾal-yeḥsar, from ḥāsar (“to lack, be deficient”), expresses the lover’s wish that the imagined bowl should never be without its contents. The third masculine singular verb agrees with the masculine noun ʾaggān (“bowl” or “basin”), not directly with the woman. Hammezeġ derives from māzaġ (“to mix”) and commonly denotes a mixed drink, especially wine diluted or blended with spices or water. “Mingling” preserves the lexical idea of mixture, but “mixed wine” makes the poetic image more intelligible. The round bowl is pictured as continually supplied with festive drink, an image of abundance, pleasure, and fullness within the lover’s bodily praise. The following comparison, in which her belly is a heap of wheat surrounded by lilies, continues the same vocabulary of cultivated plenty and beauty. The language belongs to the exuberant metaphor of the poem; it should not be reduced to a literal anatomical description or detached from the Song’s celebration of marital delight.

The designation “my sister, my bride” does not identify the woman as the man’s biological sister. In the immediate context, she is repeatedly called “bride” (כַּלָּה, kallâ), a term that identifies her as his betrothed or newly married wife (4:8-12; 5:1). The phrase therefore joins two forms of intimate address: “sister” (אָחוֹתִי, ʾaḥôtî, “my sister”) expresses covenantal closeness and affection, while “bride” specifies the marital relation. The possessive suffixes accent the beloved’s singular and exclusive relation to the speaker, a relation developed in the imagery of the enclosed garden and sealed fountain. Although אָחוֹת ordinarily denotes a literal sister, kinship language can be extended in poetic and relational speech. Comparable terminology appears in ancient Near Eastern love poetry, including Egyptian songs in which lovers may address one another as brother and sister without asserting consanguinity. Such parallels illuminate the conventional affectionate force of the expression, though the Song’s meaning rests in its own context. The bride is neither presented as a sibling nor treated in a manner that would overturn Israel’s prohibitions of incest; rather, the phrase portrays marital love as marked by familial nearness, tenderness, and exclusive belonging. The following metaphors of a locked garden, a barred spring, and a sealed fountain further define that exclusivity in terms of the bride’s reserved sexuality within the marriage bond.

The verse moves from the woman’s urgent resolve to the reported failure of its execution. אָקוּמָה (ʾāqûmâ, Qal cohortative, first common singular), אֲסוֹבְבָה (ʾăsôbebâ, Piel cohortative), and אֲבַקְשָׁה (ʾăbaqšâ, Piel cohortative) express determined self-exhortation: “Let me arise; let me go about; let me seek.” The particle נָא (nāʾ) commonly adds entreaty, urgency, or earnestness. Addressed here to herself rather than to another speaker, it does not principally mark time, though an English rendering such as “now” can convey the immediacy of her decision. The woman resolves to leave the bed of 3:1 and search throughout the accessible public spaces of the city, its streets and broad squares. The perfects בִּקַּשְׁתִּיו (biqqaštîw, Piel perfect, first common singular with third masculine singular suffix) and מְצָאתִיו (məṣāʾtîw, Qal perfect, first common singular with third masculine singular suffix) summarize the action as undertaken and completed: she did seek, but she did not find. This grammatical shift is especially suited to the dreamlike narration of 3:1-4. The cohortatives present the inward resolve as it arises, while the perfects carry the account forward to its disappointing result. The repetition of the seeking verb, first as intention and then as fulfilled effort, intensifies the frustration already introduced in 3:1: the beloved is ardently desired, yet temporarily inaccessible.

The clauses concerning twin-bearing and the absence of bereavement elaborate the completeness and regular pairing of the beloved’s teeth through the picture of a washed flock. The participle מַתְאִימוֹת (matʾîmôt), feminine plural, denotes those that are paired or matched; in the pastoral image, this naturally evokes ewes that bear twins. Yet its poetic force lies in the correspondence of the flock to the teeth: every tooth has its proper counterpart, and none is missing. The final expression, וְשַׁכֻּלָה אֵין בָּהֶם (wešakkulâ ʾên bâhem), literally, “and a bereaved one is not among them,” extends the flock imagery of an ewe deprived of its young, while metaphorically excluding gaps or loss in the woman’s dentition. The comparison therefore works on two related levels without requiring a choice between literal flock-description and figurative dental reference. Sheep emerging from washing are bright and uniformly clean, while their paired offspring and lack of bereavement convey abundance, symmetry, and wholeness. The same wording appears in Song 4:2, where it forms part of the man’s earlier praise of the bride, and its repetition in 6:6 confirms that this is a conventional yet carefully sustained poetic image. “Without blemish” in the supplied English rendering expresses the overall effect, though the Hebrew specifically speaks of no ewe being bereaved; the point is not moral faultlessness but the unbroken, orderly beauty represented by a complete set of matching teeth.

The noun raʿyātî (רַעְיָתִי), “my companion” or “my beloved,” is an intimate relational designation, but it is not a technical term that establishes the woman’s marital status. The form is a feminine singular noun with the first-person singular suffix, “my companion.” It is related to the wider Hebrew vocabulary of companionship and friendship, and in the Song it functions as the man’s characteristic address for the woman. English versions variously render it “my love,” “my darling,” “my beloved,” or “my companion,” because the term joins affection with personal fellowship. Its use in the Song does not itself settle debates over whether every scene portrays courtship, betrothal, or marriage. In the immediate context, the man has already praised her as “the fairest among women” (1:8) and compares her favorably to a mare among Pharaoh’s chariots (1:9); raʿyātî in 1:15 continues this concentrated language of admiration. The reciprocal vocabulary elsewhere in the Song, especially the woman’s designation of the man as dאָדִי (dôdî, “my beloved”), presents the pair as mutually bound in exclusive desire. Yet raʿyātî conveys beloved companionship rather than the legal or household status conveyed by terms such as “wife.” The translation “my companion” properly preserves the word’s relational nuance, while “my beloved” more directly conveys its affectionate force in English.

The fourfold imperative does not establish a reconciliation after estrangement; it summons the woman to reappear or turn back before those who desire to behold her. The Hebrew שׁוּבִי (šûbî), a Qal imperative feminine singular from שׁוּב (šûb), can mean “return,” “come back,” or, according to the immediate setting, “turn around.” No destination, person, or place is supplied. The repeated form, “return, return, Shulammite; return, return,” heightens the urgency and public character of the appeal rather than specifying the nature of any prior departure. The following purpose clause favors this sense: “that we may look upon you” employs the first-person plural cohortative וְנֶחֱזֶה (wĕneḥĕzeh), “that we may gaze.” The speakers, commonly understood as a chorus or group of women, seek her presence and visibility. Her movement may be related to the garden scene of 6:11-12, where she has gone down among the nut trees and finds herself suddenly borne along by desire or royal imagery, but the poem does not narrate an actual abandonment of Solomon. The summons functions within the Song’s stylized dialogue and its interest in the woman’s beauty, movement, and desirability. English “return” is therefore defensible, since it preserves the basic sense of šûb, but it can suggest more than the text asserts if understood as a return from relational alienation. The immediate request is for the Shulammite to turn or come back into view, preparing for the question concerning what is seen in her and for the praise that follows.

The first-person plural suffix on כָּתְלֵנוּ (kotlenu, “our wall”) most naturally identifies the wall with the woman’s household rather than indicating that the lovers already inhabit a common residence. The noun כֹּתֶל (kotel) denotes a wall, here probably the exterior or enclosing wall of a house. Since the beloved is said to be standing “behind” it and looking through the windows and lattices, the imagery places him outside the domestic space to which the woman belongs. The plural possessive can arise because the woman speaks of the home as belonging to her family or household: “our wall” is the wall of those within the house, including herself. Such language accords with the Song’s wider presentation of the woman as situated within a family setting, particularly the prominence of her brothers in 1:6 and 8:8-9. It need not determine a precise stage in the relationship, whether betrothal or marriage, since the Song’s lyric scenes do not always follow a simple chronological sequence. Yet the immediate spatial contrast is clear: the beloved’s eager approach has brought him to the boundary of her household, while the woman remains within it. The plural therefore heightens the social and domestic setting of the encounter rather than supplying evidence that the couple already possess a shared home.

The Hebrew declares reciprocal and exclusive mutual belonging, beginning with the woman’s affirmation that her beloved belongs to her: דּוֹדִי לִי (dôdî lî), “my beloved is mine,” followed by וַאֲנִי לוֹ (waʾănî lô), “and I am his.” The prepositions לְ (le), here lî, “to me,” and lô, “to him,” express relation and possession. In this poetic setting they do not reduce either lover to property; they articulate the mutual claim, fidelity, and intimacy proper to their committed love. The Anselm Project’s reversal, “I am my beloved’s and my beloved is mine,” retains the twofold reciprocity but does not reproduce the Hebrew sequence. The Hebrew foregrounds the beloved’s being hers before confessing her belonging to him. This order coheres with the immediate context: after the woman has urged him to come and has celebrated his approach (2:8-15), she speaks with confident delight in their mutual attachment. The same paired formulation recurs in 6:3, while 7:10 varies it by stressing, “I am my beloved’s, and his desire is for me.” These variations develop a consistent theme of exclusive mutual love rather than establishing a technical legal formula. Within the Song’s plain sense, the statement concerns the bride’s and bridegroom’s reciprocal union. Its later Jewish and Christian reception has readily heard covenantal resonances, since Scripture elsewhere depicts the Lord’s relation to his people in terms of belonging and marital fidelity. Yet the verse itself presents that theological pattern through the concrete language of human marital love, whose mutuality excludes both possessive tyranny and detached individualism.

“My sister” (ʾaḥōtî) is an affectionate bridal designation, not evidence that the lovers are biological siblings. The noun ʾāḥôt, “sister,” bears the first-person singular suffix, and it stands in a sequence of intimate vocatives: “my sister, my companion” (raʿyātî), “my dove,” and “my perfect one” (tammatî). In this poetic setting, the term expresses the closeness, exclusivity, and familial solidarity proper to the beloved’s relation with his bride. The Song itself fixes this sense. The man has already called the woman “my sister, my bride” in 4:9, 10, 12, where the bridal language makes a literal sibling relationship untenable. Here raʿyātî, commonly rendered “my love,” “my companion,” or “my bride,” further identifies her as the woman whom he courts and claims in covenantal love. Ancient Near Eastern love poetry also employs sibling terminology between lovers, though the Song’s own literary usage is sufficient to establish its meaning. The expression therefore intensifies rather than qualifies the erotic and marital imagery of the passage. The beloved piles up four possessive epithets before explaining his nocturnal condition: his head and hair are wet with dew. His appeal for entrance comes from one whose relation to her combines tenderness, fidelity, and marital delight.

In this context מֵעָיו (meʿayw), literally “his inward parts” or “his belly,” denotes the beloved’s external torso, especially the abdomen, rather than his internal organs. Biblical Hebrew regularly uses the plural noun מֵעֶה (meʿeh) for the inner body, whether as the physical seat of the womb and bowels or, figuratively, of deep emotion. Within this blazon of the man’s visible features, however, the term has its concrete anatomical sense. The movement from his hands to his meʿayw continues the description of his bodily beauty; “body” is therefore an idiomatic English rendering, though “abdomen” or “belly” is more exact. The phrase עֶשֶׁת שֵׁן (ʿeshet shen) depicts that torso as an ivory work, slab, or finely wrought surface. The following participle מְעֻלֶּפֶת (meʿullepet), a Pual feminine singular form agreeing with ʿeshet, means “covered” or “wrapped,” with sapphires furnishing the image of precious blue ornamentation. The comparison is not an anatomical claim that his skin literally possesses ivory and blue coloration. It likens the beloved’s smooth, pale, splendidly formed body to luxurious ivory inlaid or adorned with costly stones. “Sapphires” probably refers broadly to a blue precious stone, perhaps what modern usage would call lapis lazuli rather than the modern mineral sapphire; precise ancient gem identification remains uncertain. The verse thus belongs to the highly stylized praise of 5:10-16, where human beauty is expressed through royal and sanctuary-like materials: gold, Tarshish stones, ivory, and sapphires. Such language magnifies the beloved’s desirability and dignity without requiring an allegorical identification of each material with a separate spiritual reality. The immediate poetic point is the incomparable loveliness of the man whom the woman seeks.

The two verbs do not establish a precise horticultural sequence, but poetically portray the same general evidence of springtime fecundity. פָּרְחָה (parḥah) is a Qal perfect, feminine singular, agreeing with גֶּפֶן (gepen, “vine”): the vine has flowered or come into bloom. הֵנֵצוּ (hēnēṣû) is a Hiphil perfect, masculine plural, agreeing with רִמּוֹנִים (rimmônîm, “pomegranates”): the pomegranate trees have put forth blossoms. English “budded” is defensible for the latter, though the Hebrew root (nûṣ) in this form points more particularly to the putting forth of blossoms than to the earliest formation of unopened buds. The variation avoids mechanical repetition while fitting the distinct plants named. Vines are characteristically described as flowering, whereas pomegranates are depicted as displaying their conspicuous blossoms. The interrogative הֲ (ha) before “has the vine blossomed?” governs both coordinated clauses, so that the speaker investigates whether the garden has entered its fruitful season. As elsewhere in the Song, the vine and pomegranate signify beauty, vitality, and the promise of fruit, yet the wording remains at the stage of flowers rather than harvested produce. The verse therefore depicts an inspection of incipient fertility, not a report that the garden’s fruit has already matured.

The woman asks for an enduring, exclusive place in her beloved’s inward allegiance and outward life. The imperative שִׂימֵנִי (śîmēnî), a Qal imperative masculine singular with a first-person singular suffix, means “place me” or “set me.” Her request is not that she become a literal mark on his body, but that their bond possess the permanence and personal claim associated with a חוֹתָם (ḥôtām), a seal or signet. A seal was a closely guarded personal object, used to authenticate documents and to identify what belonged to its owner. Since a seal impressed its distinctive mark, it could signify both identity and inviolable possession. The references to the heart and arm develop this image in complementary directions. In the Old Testament, the heart is the center of thought, desire, and resolve, while the arm commonly represents strength and effective action. The beloved therefore asks to be held in his deepest devotion and displayed in the sphere of his strength and conduct. The language may reflect the wearing of seals as personal ornaments, but its force is metaphorical: she seeks an attachment that cannot be casually removed or replaced. This request prepares for the assertions that follow: love is strong as death and jealousy, or ardent exclusivity (qinʾâ), is unyielding as Sheol. The seal image does not describe possessiveness as a vice; within the poem it expresses the covenantal character of rightly ordered marital love, which claims the whole person and resists rival claims. The heart-and-arm pairing thus states the comprehensive constancy for which the woman pleads, a constancy whose intensity the following fire imagery portrays.