"These are but objects at a distance, these / Are but refreshments, and to give you ease, / To make thy Way the sweeter, till thou art / Hid in the Closet of Sophia's Heart."
— Pordage, Samuel (bap. 1633, d. c. 1691)
Place of Publication
London
Publisher
Printed by T. R. for Lodowick Lloyd
Date
1661
Metaphor
"These are but objects at a distance, these / Are but refreshments, and to give you ease, / To make thy Way the sweeter, till thou art / Hid in the Closet of Sophia's Heart."
Metaphor in Context
Blest Pilgrim, and Sophia's servant, thou
Must not rest here, but farther still must go:
These are but streams, and Rivulets of Blisse,
Sophia she the only Fountain is.
Here thou mayst bath thy self, but canst not swim
Untill thou comest to the Fountains brim:
There are vast Oceans, there thou mayst remain,
These are but easements for your griefs, and pain:
These are but objects at a distance, these
Are but refreshments, and to give you ease,
To make thy Way the sweeter, till thou art
Hid in the Closet of Sophia's Heart.
Take not thou then too much complacency
In these, which only but the Conducts be
To greater happinesse; and do but shew
The tythe of Blisse, which thou art going to.
Presse on therefore; 'count every thing but pelf
To the enjoyment of Sophia's self.
Rous'd by his Angel thus, the Pilgrim hies,
And t'wards the perfect mark he faster flies.
Must not rest here, but farther still must go:
These are but streams, and Rivulets of Blisse,
Sophia she the only Fountain is.
Here thou mayst bath thy self, but canst not swim
Untill thou comest to the Fountains brim:
There are vast Oceans, there thou mayst remain,
These are but easements for your griefs, and pain:
These are but objects at a distance, these
Are but refreshments, and to give you ease,
To make thy Way the sweeter, till thou art
Hid in the Closet of Sophia's Heart.
Take not thou then too much complacency
In these, which only but the Conducts be
To greater happinesse; and do but shew
The tythe of Blisse, which thou art going to.
Presse on therefore; 'count every thing but pelf
To the enjoyment of Sophia's self.
Rous'd by his Angel thus, the Pilgrim hies,
And t'wards the perfect mark he faster flies.
Categories
Provenance
Searching "heart" and "closet" in HDIS (Poetry)
Citation
Samuel Pordage, Mundorum Explicatio Wherein are Couched the Mysteries of the External, Internal, and Eternal worlds (London: T.R. for Lodowick Lloyd, 1661). <Link to EEBO>
Date of Entry
09/06/2005