Of his weak wings dare not to heaven fly,
But like a moldwarp in the earth doth lie.
His dunghill thoughts, which do themselves enure
To dirty dross, no higher dare aspire,
Nor can his feeble earthly eyes endure
The flaming light of that celestial fire
Which kindleth love in generous desire,
And makes him mount above the native might
Of heavy earth, up to the heaven’s height.
Spenser, Hymn in Honour of Love.