(As faith may well believe what truth once says)
What shall so many sun’s united rays
But dazzle all the eyes that now in heaven we praise?
Here let my Lord hang up his conquering lance,
And bloody armour with late slaughter warm;
And looking down on his weak militants,
Behold his saints amidst their hot alarm,
Hang all their golden hopes upon his arm;
And on this lower field when straying wide
Through Satan’s wiles, who would their sails misguide,