Augusti thinks it is an expression of joy similar to “Hallelujah.”
David Kimchi thinks it a sign of elevation of the voice; Mattheson and Pfeiffer agree in the opinion that it signifies a ritornella, or short symphony between the verses, to be played by the instruments alone.
Eichhorn thinks it means Da Capo, but Rosenmüller and Gesenius, (the latter treats the matter with great erudition, and his opinion is entitled to respect,) both think that it signifies a rest in the song part, as we might write Tacet.
Gesenius has found almost the only corroborative testimony of the whole controversy in the fact that the grammatical root of the word Selah, is repose, or silence.
La Borde has boldly, not to say audaciously, given a unique interpretation. He says “David invented the art of shading the sounds; the word Selah is equivalent to the Italian word smorzando, extinguished, dying away.” And then he gives a highly colored picture of the beauty and grace of the effects produced, though all that he proves is that he has a little stronger imagination than the others. We must also give the curious opinion of Wolff, who thinks that “Selah” has no sense whatever, and was only added to fill up the metre of a verse.
Several other eminent writers, including Fetis, who gives a full account of this war of opinions,[16] decline to hazard an opinion in so dark a matter.
Another conjectural description of the mode of singing among the ancient Hebrews, is the commentary of Herder on the song of Deborah and Barak, Judges v.; he says, “probably verses 1-11 were interrupted by the shouts of the populace; verses 12-27 were a picture of the battle with a naming of the leaders with praise or blame, and mimicking each one as named; verses 28-30 were mockery of the triumph of Sissera, and the last verse was given as chorus by the whole people.”
One cannot fail to observe some resemblance between this music and the slave music of some sections of the southern states: in the camp-meetings, and religious services, a tune which is well known to all is chosen, and as the spirit moves, often a whole song appropriate to the occasion is improvised. Of some such description must have been Miriam’s song, after the downfall of Pharaoh’s host; she probably chose a tune which was familiar to the people, and improvised, while the people kept the rhythm, or sang refrains.
Of course the element of poetry was immeasurably greater among the Israelites than among the Negroes, but the similarity of improvisation and religious fervor is noticeable.
When Miriam sang, there was as yet no distinctive style of Hebrew music; we must remember that she had obtained an Egyptian education, and that up to David’s time the music was an imitation of the Egyptian school.