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Keywords in Hester Pulter’s Poetry: A Glossary

This glossary introduces new readers of Hester Pulter to some of her favorite words. We created it while studying Pulter’s poetry in a Spring 2025 undergraduate course titled “The Worlds of Hester Pulter and Margaret Cavendish” at Ohio State University, and we hope it will provide a bridge into Pulter’s world for those unfamiliar with the culture in which she wrote. These are the words to which we returned, time and again, as we discussed Pulter’s poems. Some terms were unusual even in her time. Others have faded out of use or shifted meaning in the past few centuries. Each word appears in multiple examples of Pulter’s poetry, and we believe that each is crucial to understanding central ideas in her works.

We designed these entries as invitations to further thinking and research. Because we wrote with undergraduate and secondary school students in mind, we tried to anticipate and address what readers new to Pulter would wish to know. We prioritized accessible language and kept each entry brief, and we settled on three questions for each entry to answer. What did this word mean for Pulter? How is it pronounced? How have some other writers used this word, either in Pulter’s time or in later periods?

These keywords are not simple to define. Each has had more meanings in more contexts than we could capture in one brief entry. We have chosen to focus on how Pulter used these words, not necessarily what the word means to all writers in seventeenth-century England. Our entries also represent the interpretations of individual readers, not necessarily the conclusions every reader will reach. We invite users of this glossary to approach our definitions as hypotheses to test and as beginnings to expand.

We intend this resource to complement existing materials at The Pulter Project. In addition to the Curations we cross-reference below and the ample glosses available in Elemental and Amplified Editions, we especially encourage readers to consult Curations that include additional examples of Pulter’s favorite words, such as “aconite,” “dust,” “splendent,” and “suspire.”

Each entry in this glossary provides a pronunciation key based on the International Phonetic Alphabet (IPA), followed by a short definition and beginning analysis of Pulter’s use of the word. Each entry ends with “suggested intertexts,” which are poems, song lyrics, and other texts that can be read alongside Pulter’s poetry. These intertexts encourage deeper exploration of the keywords and are meant to inspire conversations about Pulter’s poetry and its connections to her world and ours.

We researched these keywords using several digital tools and databases. To understand each word’s multiple evolving definitions, we consulted the Oxford English Dictionary (OED) and compared historical definitions to current American ones in the Merriam-Webster Dictionary. We also searched the Early English Books Online Text Creation Partnership (EEBO-TCP) database to identify ways that Pulter’s contemporaries used these words in seventeenth-century England. We found many of our later intertexts at the Poetry Foundation.

Instructors who use this glossary in class might ask students to:

Although we imagined this glossary as a pedagogical aid and a way to invite new readers into the conversation, we hope it will prove useful to anyone who would like to think in new ways about Pulter’s words.

Amaze /əˈmeɪz/

To feel great surprise and wonder.

The word “amaze” is not just a mild surprise in Pulter’s poetry; it is a powerful emotional response that often involves wonder, awe, confusion, and fear.

To be amazed in a Pulter poem is to experience the trifling position of humans in the universe. Sometimes amazement is frightening, as when Pulter’s speaker is “amazed” by the intense brightness of the stars in This Was Written in 1648, When I Lay in, With my Son John45. Other times, it is inspiring, such as the amazement at Christ’s “infinite love” in Of a Young Lady at Oxford, 164643. Amazement is also an apt reaction to the devastating effect of civil war. Somnus, Why Art Thou Still to Me Unkind?120 uses “amaze” to describe the disbelief and shock of Neptune, the powerful god of the sea, upon seeing bloody waters filled with the dead bodies of English sailors. In The Cuckoo (Emblem 29)94, Pulter imagines other nations looking upon England’s “horrid crimes,” such as the execution of a monarch, with “amaze.” When editor Rachel Zhang chooses instead to interpret the word as “A maze,” her edition (Emblem 2994) emphasizes the connection between feeling puzzled (amazed) and trying to solve a puzzle (a maze).

Suggested intertexts:

Astraea /æˈstɹiːə/

The virgin goddess of justice, innocence, truth, and chastity in classical mythology.

In Greek mythology, Astraea fled to the skies to escape the sinfulness of Earth, and she transformed into the constellation Virgo. Pulter uses Astraea as a symbol of the start of a new Golden Age of moral integrity, justice, and hope.

In the world of Pulter’s poetry, Astraea is the daughter of Aurora, the goddess of the dawn. Pulter frequently describes Astraea as “lovely” and a representative of immortalized youthfulness. To Astraea23 imagines her as ruling without worrying whether anyone will usurp her place. The Circle [4]36 starts with an eternal spirit morphing into Aurora, then has Aurora give birth to Astraea, and ends with Astraea retreating back into the heavens from Earth. In To My Dear Jane, Margaret, and Penelope Pulter, They Being at London, I at Broadfield38, Pulter shows through Astraea’s example that leaving Earth to return to heaven is a joyous act to be celebrated because, as in Astraea’s tale, Earth is plagued with sin and death and the heavens are free.

Suggested intertexts:

Atom /'a.t̬əm/

The most minuscule part of the universe.

This term comes from ancient Greek philosophy as well as emerging scientific theories in Pulter’s day. She uses the term to recognize God’s power through the indivisible particles that comprise the universe. When Pulter writes of atoms, she imagines freedom, trust in God, and rebirth from obscurity and destruction. See, for example, lines 32-38 of The Brahman (Emblem 44)109 and lines 101-106 of Why Must I Thus Forever Be Confined57. For Pulter, atoms are what remains when matter dissolves, as well as ingredients for building new worlds.

Pulter frequently envisions atoms as controlled by God and evidence of divine order. Some of her contemporaries imagined them similarly; others did not. Margaret Cavendish’s poems about atoms tend not to give them theological significance and instead locate agency in the moving particles themselves. For examples of Cavendish’s perspective on atoms, see Margaret Cavendish’s Dancing Atoms. The following excerpts from two other contemporaries offer further points of comparison with Pulter’s atomic thinking.

Mildmay Fane, Otis Sacra
  • How do we not perceive the clay we tread on,
  • To be the substance whereof we were made:
  • And by the sun that atom’d into dust,
  • Tells us but what we must dissolve into:
  • Or like the shadow represents us, see
  • We not what ’tis, and what we all shall be?
Mildmay Fane, Earl of Westmorland, excerpt from Otis Sacra (1648)
Henry More, The Argument of Democritus Platonissans, or The Infinity of Worlds
  • How long would God be forming of a fly?
  • Or the small wand’ring moats that play in th’ sun?
  • Least moment well will serve none can deny,
  • His fiat spoke and straight the thing is done,
  • And cannot He make the all the World as soon?
  • For in each atom of the matter wide
  • The total deity doth entirely won [dwell],
  • His infinite presence doth therein reside,
  • And in this presence infinite powers do ever abide.
Henry More, excerpt from The Argument of Democritus Platonissans, or The Infinity of Worlds (1647)

Suggested intertexts:

Aurora /əˈɹɔɹ.ə/

The Roman goddess of the dawn.

Pulter uses the word “Aurora” in more than twenty poems. She even titles two poems “Aurora” and three poems “To Aurora.” These poems use the word to evoke simultaneously the goddess Aurora and the more general definition of “aurora” as dawn. In Pulter’s poetry, Aurora signifies the coming day and new beginnings, along with the goodness of light in contrast to the evil night. Pulter’s version of Aurora is also a loving mother to the virginal goddess Astraea, who represents truth and justice. Pulter seems drawn to the goddess Aurora, perhaps as a source of feminine authority and hope amid sorrow. Pulter’s manuscript often uses the capitalized version where the common noun would have worked just as well. For example, in The Garden, or The Contention of Flowers12, Pulter speaks of “flowers most fair […] watered o’er with Aurora’s dew.” For more examples of Aurora in poetry and art, see Aurora and Phoebe and Images of Aurora, Goddess of the Dawn.

Pulter was not the only seventeenth-century poet attracted to the idea of Aurora as the personification of dawn and the promise of a new day. See, for example, an anonymous anti-Catholic poem from 1641. It describes the act of waking early in the morning as calling Aurora; it also personifies the sun as Phoebus.

Anonymous, Novembris monstrum, or Rome brought to bed with England with the whores miscarrying
  • What made thee wake?
  • Couldst thou not take
  • Thy rest to night, thou heardst such knocking
  • Let not thy fiery steeds yet sup
  • Their mornings draught, nor run their full career here?
  • Why dost thou call Aurora up?
  • They plotted not against thy deity.
  • Then Phoebus stay,
  • You will but beg another play.
Anonymous, excerpt from Novembris monstrum, or Rome brought to bed with England with the whores miscarrying (1641)

Suggested intertexts:

Calcine /ˈkalsʌɪn/

To reduce an object to quicklime, or calcium oxide, by roasting or burning. To burn to dust or purify.

In The Circle [2]21, Pulter uses “calcined” in the tenth line. The poem’s speaker ridicules alchemists for trying to find immortality through alchemy. The speaker explains that all bodies eventually “are calcined” to dust—the original physical element—while souls await their return to heaven. Although the speaker in Dear God, From Thy High Throne Look Down63 says that grief can cause calcination, other poems imagine that calcination at death will eliminate sorrow and earthly annoyances. In The Revolution16 and The Perfection of Patience and Knowledge39, Pulter depicts death (and the obliteration of the Earth) as refinement, as a way to reduce or consume lesser parts and return beings to their purest form. In My Heart, Why Dost Thou Throb So in My Breast?49, Pulter’s speaker finds comfort in the idea that calcination will improve beings and allow their souls to shine with glory.

The word also appears in poems by Pulter’s contemporaries. One example is Henry King’s “The Exequy” (1657). In this elegy to his deceased wife, King says he will not see her until “that day come / Which shall the earth to cinders doom, / And a fierce fever must calcine / The body of this world like thine” (lines 51-54). The word “calcine” aids King in imagining how an apocalyptic fire might purify the earth.

Suggested intertexts:

Complaint /kəmˈpleɪnt/

An expression of grief, lament, or grievance.

In Pulter’s poems, “complaint” describes not a minor instance of self-pity, but more serious suffering that causes deep pain. By using the word in this way, Pulter enters into a long literary tradition of the poetic complaint, often associated with female voices lamenting unfortunate circumstances. For examples by George Herbert and Mary Wroth, see Complaint Poetry.

Pulter’s A Solitary Complaint54 uses the word twice to illustrate attachment to earthly sadness. The speaker expresses frustration at being “confined” in an earthly “sad grove” and wishes to escape to the vast universe beyond, or the “glorious globes above” (lines 1-2). The Complaint of Thames, 1647, When the Best of Kings was Imprisoned by the Worst of Rebels at Holmby4 imagines London’s Thames River crying over the recent execution of King Charles I. At its end, the speaker states, “I, hearing these complaints, though time to sleep, / Sat sadly down, and with her ’gan to weep” (lines 124-125). In Pulter’s use, a “complaint” is an active way to suffer, a cry for recognition and help addressed to God or another listener.

Suggested intertexts:

Deplore /dɪˈplɔr/

To lament, grieve, or bewail; to consider unfortunate or deserving of deprecation.

This word appears in many of Pulter’s poems. In This Ugly Sow (Emblem 30)95, the term “deplore” describes Aphrodite mourning a death. On the Horrid Murder of that Incomparable Prince14 expresses commoners’ grief following the death of King Charles I. Although Pulter uses this word most frequently to explain the feelings and acts associated with human loss, she does not limit herself to that definition. My Soul, Why Art Thou Full of Trouble?40 uses “deplore” when advising readers not to view their mortal being as less fortunate than an immortal soul.

Suggested intertexts:

Eclipse /iˈklɪps/

The obstruction of light when one celestial being appears to cover another, such as the moon blocking the sun’s light. Because of its association with darkening, the word also meant extinguishing life or dying.

In The Eclipse1, Pulter treats the sun and moon as symbols (lines 25-36). According to the poem, the sun is the light of God or spiritual truth, and the moon shades or obscures that truth. In the final stanza, the speaker decides that one’s own sins, not an external entity like the clouds or the moon, block God’s light and create spiritual darkness. The poem’s message is that sins eclipse the light and joy of God.

Pulter uses the word “eclipse” metaphorically in The Caucasines (Emblem 52)117 to describe an overwhelming infestation of locusts that blocks out the sun like a cloud. Pulter shows how this darkness brings despair and loss of hope. She compares this natural event to political turmoil caused by Parliamentarian rule headed by Oliver Cromwell. Just as locusts eclipse the sun, the speaker argues, Cromwell brings more chaos and suffering. The poem ends with uncertainty—“Who knows” when the current suffering will end (line 26)—and urges faith in God to navigate trying times.

For examples of eclipse poems by other writers, see Eclipse Literature.

Suggested intertexts:

Enfranchised /ɛnˈfrantʃʌɪzd/

Having been granted freedom or rights, whether personal or political.

Originally, this term referred to freeing someone from slavery or servitude, but, over time, it came to include granting citizenship, voting rights, and political privileges. While the older use has faded, the core idea remains the attainment of greater freedom and agency.

In The Perfection of Patience and Knowledge39, Pulter uses “enfranchised” to signify the soul’s liberation from the body, marking a transition from worldly suffering to divine enlightenment. Much like a prisoner gaining freedom, the soul is released from physical constraints and restored to its true exalted state. Similarly, in The Welcome [1]19, “enfranchised” represents spiritual emancipation as the soul is freed from grief, pain, and earthly existence. The contrast between the trembling flesh and the soul’s joyful flight highlights the poem’s central tension. While the body fears death, the soul welcomes it as the ultimate release into divine joy.

Suggested intertexts:

Halcyon /ˈhælsiən/

A mythological bird said to calm powerful waves and wind if it builds its nest on the sea; calmness or peace.

In Greek mythology, Halcyon was a daughter of Aeolus, the god of the winds. She fell in love with a mortal man, Ceyx, who drowned when his ship sank. Consumed with grief when she discovered his body, Halcyon threw herself into the water. Zeus took pity on the couple and transformed them into living halcyon birds.

Many versions of the classical myth identify halcyons as members of the kingfisher family. In the nineteenth century, a zoologist would give the name “halcyon,” after the mythical bird, to a genus of tree kingfishers.

The word “halcyon” appears in five of Pulter’s poems. She uses the common phrase “halcyon days” to signify calm and peaceful times in The Invitation into the Country, 16472 and The Complaint of Thames, 1647, When the Best of Kings was Imprisoned by the Worst of Rebels at Holmby4. In both cases, these idealized days are past. The mythological bird shows up in Why Must I Thus Forever Be Confined57, This Poor Turtledove (Emblem 20)85, and This Stately Ship (Emblem 43)108. Emblem 43 hints at the bird’s mythological origins by referring to Aeolus’s power, and the other two poems show two ways of interpreting the bird’s story. Emblem 20 uses halcyons as a negative example for widows, urging them not to be suicidal or completely isolated after their husbands’ deaths. Poem 57, on the other hand, associates these creatures with freedom of movement.

Suggested intertexts:

Illustrious /ɪˈlʌs.tri.əs/

To be lustrous or illuminated in brilliance; of a higher being or life force and therefore highlighted in luster and shine.

As used in Pulter’s poetry, “illustrious” most often refers to a divine being of the heavens, especially the Christian God. Pulter also uses it to refer to high-ranking leaders, like Julius Caesar in On the King’s Most Excellent Majesty27. As the definition suggests, “illustrious” can also mean shining and producing light, and the word appears in Pulter’s poetry to describe sources of light like the sun. See, for example, A Solitary Complaint54.

Pulter’s contemporaries, specifically in works ranging from the 1640s to the 1660s, tend to use the word in similar contexts to describe the rays of the sun, to demonstrate respect owed to nobility and courage, and to depict the almighty forces of gods. “Illustrious” is still used today and can be found in many kinds of writing, including modern poetry and news articles describing the successful careers of sports players. Over time, the word’s definition has shifted away from associations with light and holy beings to focus more on respect for an individual given their achievements.

Suggested intertexts:

Influence (n.) /ˈɪnflʊən(t)s/

A flow of ethereal fluid emitted by stars and celestial objects that affects the behavior and destinies of men. Taken from the Latin influentia, meaning “to flow in.”

Pulter uses “influence” in multiple contexts. She refers to it as the power and warmth that God bestows in Dear God, Turn Not Away Thy Face20, and she wishes to have that same radiance of love and comfort for her loved ones in The Wish52. She ponders and relishes in humanity’s reliance on the invisible liquid radiated from stars and constellations in A Solitary Discourse44, and she seems to relate the death of King Charles I to a loss of a star and its sway in On that Unparalleled Prince Charles the First, His Horrid Murder8.

In the works of Pulter’s contemporaries, the word “influence” shows interest in whether celestial objects control human lives. For example, a pamphlet by English clergyman William Foster called Hoplocrisma-spongus, or A Sponge to Wipe Away the Weapon-Salve (1631) repeatedly discusses “the influence of the stars” while arguing against a particular method for curing wounds (sig. E2v-E3r). Foster worries about witchcraft and the possibility that people might wield this power and “bring an influence down from the starry heavens” (sig. E3r).

For Pulter, the concept of heavenly influence unites God’s governance and the forces of the natural world, both of which she understands as working together. Across her poetry, Pulter’s use of “influence” alludes to an idea that we are not completely in control of our actions—that there are divinely managed tides affecting us as much as we now know the moon affects our oceans. Her poems frequently recognize and resign to the governance of God’s light. Pulter uses the idea of “influence” to fuel her faith and further explore power, reliance, comfort, and powerlessness in both personal and political contexts within her art.

Suggested intertexts:

Involve /ɪnˈvɑlv/

To envelop, entangle, or include.

Pulter uses “involve” to describe something surrounding and covering another entity. In her poetry, this word goes beyond a simple physical action and signals profound emotional connections among spaces, times, and people. Underlying the term is the belief that people were placed on earth with a purpose. To influence the universe as we know it, we must not only engage ourselves, but also “involve” ourselves, or choose to be intertangled in aspects of life about which we feel passion. While Pulter discusses the earth as a confining place that restricts her soul within a cage, she also speaks about the importance of striving to make it a better environment, if for no other reason than spite for its limitations. In almost every instance of this word in Pulter’s poetry, it describes a balanced universe, highlighting both the way God’s hands place everything into motion and our own role in constructing this sense of homeostasis. See, for example, The Desire18 and The Circle [4]36.

Another example of the word in Pulter’s time appears in a religio-political book printed in London in 1657. Its long title reads as follows: The Downfall of the Fifth Monarchy, or The Personal Reign of Christ on Earth, Confuted. Discovering the Desperate and Dangerous Principles and Designs of These Frenzy-Conceited Men of the Fifth Monarchy, Who Pretending to Do the Work of Their Generations, Seek to Involve These Nations Again in Blood and Misery, Had Not the Lord Prevented Them in Their Design. In this title, “involve” imagines how a group of radicals uses nations as pawns.

Suggested intertexts:

Irradiate /ɪˈreɪdieɪt/

To illuminate with rays of sun or other sources of light.

Pulter uses this word in many poems to emphasize the sun’s illuminating powers. She also associates the sun with God’s love and describes its rays as transformative and healing to human beings. In Immense Fount of Truth, Life, Love, Joy, Glory48, My God, I Thee (and Only Thee) Adore50, and The Manucodiats (Emblem 5)71, Pulter’s speaker asks God to send rays that can “irradiate,” or brighten, her sad soul. For Pulter, this word can be a synonym for radiant light and energy, and it most often signifies spiritual enlightenment and change.

“Irradiate” is still used today, but it can now evoke exposure to light and radiation from X-ray machines and other new technologies.

Suggested intertexts:

Obliviate /əˈblɪvɪeɪt/

To be forgotten, purposefully disregarded, and erased from history, memory, and the world.

Fittingly for a word about absolute erasure, Pulter employs “obliviate” sparingly, and each use feels carefully chosen. She almost never uses it twice within a single poem, as if one instance is all the poem can bear. For Pulter, “obliviate” is existential and evokes a reckoning with the inevitable: death. In The Circle [2]21, Pulter invokes humanity’s mortality and states that no glory—no act of alchemy—can circumvent it. We will all be consumed by time and lay forgotten in our urns. We will all, without exception, return to the earth. In The Desire18 and My God, I Thee (and Only Thee) Adore50, the word still functions in relation to forgetting, but in these instances the speakers are directly addressing God and asking him to erase their troubles and sins. The speakers seek purification, a clean slate, a total erasure. God, like Death, obliviates.

Suggested intertexts:

Obscure /əbˈskjʊr/

To cover; to be mysterious or hidden.

Pulter uses the word “obscure” in her poetry to signify hiding, concealing, or a clouding effect. Examples include To Aurora [2]26, in which smoke darkens bright eyes; The Eclipse1, in which the moon blocks the sun’s light; and This Horizontal Bird (Emblem 35)100, in which the darkness of night covers the sun. In other poems, Pulter uses the noun “obscurity” to describe a state of emotional, physical, or spiritual darkness in which the speaker feels far from her God or in a depressive state. The Brahman (Emblem 44)109 uses this definition in line 34: “And from obscurity my atoms raise.” The phrase “sad obscurity” appears in multiple poems, where it is associated with helplessness and all-consuming sorrow. See A Dialogue Between Two Sisters, Virgins Bewailing Their Solitary Life56 line 45; Universal Dissolution, Made When I Was with Child, of my 15th Child, my Son, John, I Being, Everyone Thought, in a Consumption, 16486, line 38; and Why Must I Thus Forever Be Confined57, line 64.

Religious texts of Pulter’s time use “obscure” to describe the physical and moral limitations of humans and to argue that these weaknesses block humans from experiencing the divine. One example is from a 1658 book called With the Light Is Fifteen Priests, when “ministers of Christ” discuss their own existence on earth: “This obscure angle of the world where we live dark, we are chained up in a cave of darkness” (sig. A4v-B1r). To these ministers, the world is a place full of darkness in which people’s carnality hinders their ability to experience divinity. In “The Eclipse,” Pulter similarly laments that “Mortality” obscures “bright glory from” her “soul” because of it binding her to “flesh and bone” (lines 27-39). Like the ministers, Pulter blames the physical world (“flesh,” “bone,” “dust,” and “ashes”) for suppressing her soul (line 42).

Suggested intertexts:

Orient /ˈɔriənt/

Radiant or precious. A label for East Asia, an exotic pearl thought to be from the East, or something facing the East.

Pulter uses the word “orient” to signify material objects and places that are precious or unusual to English readers. Somnus, Why Art Thou Still to Me Unkind?120 introduces Imperial Nereus, a sea god from Greek mythology, as wearing “orient gems” and a purple robe to show his great wealth and power (line 30), and Doves and Pearls (Emblem 36)101 uses “the choicest orient pearls” as a metaphor for pious virtue (line 15). The Elephant (Emblem 19)84 offers a brief glimpse at how Pulter imagines Eastern Asia, which she calls “the Orient kingdoms” (line 6). Often the word signifies multiple meanings at once. Aurora’s “orient light” in A Solitary Discourse44 (line 7) and “orient light” in To Aurora [3]34 (line 6) are both east-facing and radiating light (line 7).

Suggested intertexts:

Radiant /ˈreɪ.di.ənt/

A term for bright rays of light or illuminating ideas that convey positivity, joy, and beauty, symbolizing powerful emotions or an intense, glowing energy.

In her poetry, Pulter frequently uses this word to signify uplifting feelings such as joy, beauty, and sublimity, but also to describe divine or celestial entities like God, Heaven, and the planets. For example, in Immense Fount of Truth, Life, Love, Joy, Glory48, Pulter refers to God as having a “radiant” throne: a powerful, dazzling presence that reveals immeasurable love. Pulter also uses “radiant” to describe celestial beings. In This Was Written in 1648, When I Lay in, With my Son John45, Pulter writes of the sun’s “radiant beams” that “dazzled my tendered eye” (line 32).

“Radiant” appears in the description of God sitting on this throne in Book 3 of John Milton’s Paradise Lost (1667): “On his right / The radiant image of his Glory sat, / His onely son.” Milton, like Pulter, associates the word with divine light and power. In modern usage, “radiant” still carries similar meanings, although there is a stronger emphasis on the joyous qualities it represents.

Suggested intertexts:

Rarefy /ˈrer.ə.faɪ/

To make thinner or less dense; to dissipate into a more refined state.

Pulter uses this verb to signal a purifying transformation of materials or elements. In The Revolution16, dust rarefies into tears. In The Circle [1]17, tears rarefy into sighs, whereas the speaker imagines her body being rarefied into tears in Dear God, From Thy High Throne Look Down63 and The Invocation of the Elements the Longest Night in the Year 165541. Pulter frequently links this term with other words that she associates with death, especially “dissolve” and “dust,” but the poems remain ambivalent about whether the refining process itself is a positive transformation.

Some of Pulter’s contemporaries apply the word to positive situations. Thomas White in his Peripatetical Institutions (1656), for example, uses “rarefy” to describe angels carrying out a transformation: “And because the operation of Angels is no other than rarefaction […] it must be, that the angels or angel whose task this was, by rarefying the air raised a vast fire” (sig. P6v). John Donne uses the word in his “Elegy on the Lady Markham” to praise his subject’s religious fervor in these lines: “So much did zeal her conscience rarify, / That extreme truth lacked little of a lie” (Poems, 1633).

Suggested intertexts:

Refulgent /rəˈfəldʒ(ə)nt/

Radiant, bright, brilliant, or glorious.

In Pulter’s poetry, “refulgent” conveys shining and is often associated with light. Specifically, it tends to describe the brightness of the sun or the brilliance of other astronomical objects. Pulter writes of “refulgent orbs” in Scorned Medea (Emblem 9)75, “refulgent light” in To Aurora [3]34“To Aurora [3]” (Poem 34), and “refulgent rays” in Aletheia’s Pearl32.

Pulter’s contemporary Thomas Philipot uses “refulgent” similarly in his Poems, printed in London in 1646. In Philipot’s poems, the word appears alongside “orbs,” “ray,” “light,” and other sparkling objects. For example, “On Julia, Throwing Snowballs at Him” describes “the bright orbs of her refulgent eyes,” and “The Elegy” describes a star shining “with such refulgent light” (sig. A5v, C1v).

The word is not often used today. According to the OED, it occurs only 0.05 times per million words in modern English. However, a hymn still performed today describes the sun as “thou refulgent orb of day.” These words were written by the eighteenth-century writer Philip Doddridge and set to music by the American composer Sarah Lancaster in 1869. The hymn is still widely performed today under the name “The Last Words of Copernicus.” “Refulgent” can be heard being sung in a video of a performance of this hymn that was published at YouTube in 2020.

Suggested intertexts:

Resplendent /riˈsplɛnd(ə)nt/

Shining brilliantly; splendid and sumptuous; characterized by a glowing splendor.

Pulter uses the word “resplendent” in multiple poems, and in all cases, the term describes something splendid or brightly shining. In The Weeping Wish61, the speaker wishes that her tears could cause positive transformations, such as the birth of a new kind of flower that would bring her “resplendent fame” (line 11). In Aletheia’s Pearl32, “resplendent” signals an exceptional brilliance beyond radiance when the speaker calls the title character “more resplendent than her radiant mother” (line 8).

Pulter’s contemporary, Margaret Cavendish also turned to “resplendent” in “Similizing Thoughts” (1653) to describe the splendor and brightness of the sun bursting through dark clouds to bring forth light. Cavendish contrasts this immense light with the blackness of night, and she employs this metaphor to philosophize about the nature of thoughts. When placed alongside Pulter’s poetry, Cavendish’s poem and the two intertexts below invite consideration of what kinds of objects can be exceptional enough to be “resplendent.”

Suggested intertexts:

Revolve /riˈvɔlv/

To enact a rotation or a radical change.

Pulter uses the word “revolve” and the related “revolution” to describe many aspects of life, including politics, science, history, spirituality, and human mortality. In The Circle [3]25, the speaker describes death as part of a normal revolution (“many things revolve”), urging readers to understand death as a transition into a new state rather than an end. Likewise, in Immense Fount of Truth, Life, Love, Joy, Glory48, Pulter uses the phrase “stairs of revolution” to describe souls being restored to their bodies during the afterlife. Other poems use “revolve” and “revolution” to indicate more drastic change. When Pulter imagines what might happen if God destroyed the world, she titles the poem The Revolution16. See also Pulter and Political Revolution and Women Writers and the English Revolution.

Suggested intertexts:

Sable /ˈseɪb(ə)l/

Black in color.

As an adjective, the word “sable” can describe the color or hue of scenery, an object, or a person. As a noun, it refers to a small furry animal with dark brown fur, black clothing intended for mourning purposes, and a dark color associated with the designing and implementation of coats of arms.

The word “sable” appears in a dozen of Pulter’s poems. Most often, Pulter uses “sable” as an adjective to describe the color or dark scenery of the night sky, or to describe other dark features of natural phenomena. Additionally, she uses it to signify melancholic sadness. The word does not seem to have any positive connotations in Pulter’s work and is typically associated with the nighttime and the pain that comes with it. It is noteworthy that Pulter’s use of lightness and brightness is associated with her faith in God; therefore, sable and nighttime may be used as a foil for Pulter to highlight her faith.

According to the OED, “sable” has also been used to describe a person with dark skin in a way that could be offensive now. Although the OED locates the origins of this definition in 1793, some of Pulter’s metaphors might anticipate this use. For example, Universal Dissolution, Made When I Was with Child, of my 15th Child, my Son, John, I Being, Everyone Thought, in a Consumption, 16486 refers to night as a “sable Empress” (line 128). When The Complaint of Thames, 1647, When the Best of Kings Was Imprisoned By the Worst of Rebels at Holmby4 holds London responsible for the imprisonment of King Charles I, it speaks of the impossibility of washing away their guilt—an action even less possible than it would be “to change / The skins of Negroes that in Afric’ range” (line 20). Three lines later, the speaker imagines slanderous tongues as “sable as salamander” (line 23), associating blackness with falsity and maliciousness.

“Sable” is also a key color for sorrow and grief, as shown in On Those Two Unparalleled friends, Sir George Lisle and Sir Charles Lucas, Who Were Shot to Death at Colchester7 and Upon the Imprisonment of his Sacred Majesty, That Unparalleled Prince, King Charles the First13.

Several of Pulter’s contemporaries also used the word “sable” as a synonym for black-colored. In A Display of Heraldry (1632), author John Guillim describes the color sable as used in heraldry as representative of dirt, gravel, and “heavy and earthy substance” (sig. D2r). More poetically, like Pulter, William Drummond uses sable to describe the night sky: “So in a sable Night the Sun’s bright Sister / Among the lesser twinkling Lights doth glister” (Poems, 1656, sig. B7r).

Suggested intertexts: