E arth, now adiew, my rauisht thought
L ifted to Heau'n sets thee at nought;
I nfinite is my longing,
S ecrets of angels to be taught,
A nd things to Heau'n belonging.
B rought downe from heau'n of angels kind,
E uen now doe I admire her mind;
T his is my contemplation,
H er cleare sweet spirit, which is refin'd
A boue humane creation.
R ich sun-beame of th' Æternall light,
E xcellent Soule, how shall I wright?[174]
G ood angels make me able;
I cannot see but by your eye,
N or, but by your tongue, signifie
A thing so admirable.
HYMNE XIIII.
Of the Sun-beames of her Mind.
E xceeding glorious is the starre,
L et vs behold her beames afarre
I n a side line reflected;
S ight bears them not, when neere they are,
A nd in right lines directed.
B ehold her in her vertues' beames,
E xtending sun-like to all realmes;
T he sunne none viewes too neerly:
H er well of goodnes in these streames,
A ppeares right well and clearely.
R adiant vertues, if your light
E nfeeble the best iudgement's sight,
G reat splendor aboue measure
I s in the mind from whence you flow;
N o wit may haue accesse to know,
A nd view so bright a treasure.