The shepherd-lover announces his intent in 4:6 in words that are charged with emotion that is masked for all but the two lovers themselves — we watch only by entering into the imagery:
Until the day breathes
and the shadows flee,
I will hasten to the mountain of myrrh
and the hill of frankincense.
Her fragrance is described with words she has used of his fragrance (3:6). But he delights in her aroma, her love, her body, and he says so. He is speaking here of her breasts. The fawns dancing among the lilies are now aromatic hills.

So taken is he by his delight in her he must stop now and repeat himself:
You are altogether beautiful, my love;
there is no flaw in you.
She’s perfect — she had summoned the women earlier to see his beauty; now he echoes those words back to her.
He now summons her to him
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 (4:8).
She excites him to new images — bold, wild, and earthy: mountains and peaks and dens of lions and wild animals. What can this mean? This is not a map of geography but a poem of love — one in which his images race from her mountainous breasts to her wild inaccessibility. He images her as a scary, wild woman.
And all this is in the Bible.