For then, the ravished Spirit, the Senses leaves,
Hath her own powers, and proper actions free.
Her harmonies are sweet and full of skill,
When on the Body's instrument She plays:
But the proportions of the Wit and Will,
Those sweet accords are even the angels' lays.
These tunes of Reason are Amphion's lyre,
Wherewith he did the Theban city found;
These are the notes, wherewith the heavenly Quire,
The praise of Him, which spreads the heaven, doth sound.