"His loveliness my Soul hath prepossest, / And left no room for any other guest:"
— Rawlet, John (bap. 1642, d. 1686)
Place of Publication
London
Publisher
Printed for Samuel Tidmarsh [etc.]
Date
1687
Metaphor
"His loveliness my Soul hath prepossest, / And left no room for any other guest:"
Metaphor in Context
Whose Soul is once betroth'd, can ever he
From that engagement disobliged be?
The hearts, which love unites in loyal bands,
Are chain'd as fast, as by their tongues and hands.
Even thus am I in heart engag'd, my mind
Is firmly fixt, but on no Female-kind:
The blessed Jesus is my Lord, my Love;
He is my choice, from him I'll never move.
Away, then, all you objects that divert,
And seek to draw from my dear Lord my heart:
Go, Riches, Honours, Beauty, Bravery, go,
Tempt these mean Souls who nothing better know.
That uncreated Beauty, which hath gain'd
My ravisht Heart, hath all your glory stain'd;
His loveliness my Soul hath prepossest,
And left no room for any other guest:
Cease then with knockings to assault my Door,
Disturb not my repose, attempt no more
These gates which to the King of Glory be
Made to fly open, and to none but he.
For him I sigh, I wishly look, and long
To be releas'd from this ensnaring throng
Of poor bewildred Mortals, from whose sight
My Soul doth meditate a nobler flight
Into the Regions of eternal Joy,
Where nothing shall her blessful peace annoy;
There's her own home, her Country's there above,
That blessed Land of Life, of Light and Love;
There my dear Friends fled hence, with God are blest;
Thither are swiftly hasting all the rest;
There lives my Lord, and there I long to live,
From that engagement disobliged be?
The hearts, which love unites in loyal bands,
Are chain'd as fast, as by their tongues and hands.
Even thus am I in heart engag'd, my mind
Is firmly fixt, but on no Female-kind:
The blessed Jesus is my Lord, my Love;
He is my choice, from him I'll never move.
Away, then, all you objects that divert,
And seek to draw from my dear Lord my heart:
Go, Riches, Honours, Beauty, Bravery, go,
Tempt these mean Souls who nothing better know.
That uncreated Beauty, which hath gain'd
My ravisht Heart, hath all your glory stain'd;
His loveliness my Soul hath prepossest,
And left no room for any other guest:
Cease then with knockings to assault my Door,
Disturb not my repose, attempt no more
These gates which to the King of Glory be
Made to fly open, and to none but he.
For him I sigh, I wishly look, and long
To be releas'd from this ensnaring throng
Of poor bewildred Mortals, from whose sight
My Soul doth meditate a nobler flight
Into the Regions of eternal Joy,
Where nothing shall her blessful peace annoy;
There's her own home, her Country's there above,
That blessed Land of Life, of Light and Love;
There my dear Friends fled hence, with God are blest;
Thither are swiftly hasting all the rest;
There lives my Lord, and there I long to live,
Categories
Provenance
Searching "soul" and "guest" in HDIS (Poetry)
Date of Entry
03/13/2006
