An Hymne of Heavenly Love Edmund Spenser

Love, lift me up upon thy golden Wings,
From this base World unto thy Heavens hight,
Where I may see those admirable things,
Which there thou workest by thy Sovereign Might,
Far above feeble reach of earthly Sight;
That I thereof an heavenly hymn may sing
Unto the God of Love, high Heaven's King.

Many lewd Layes (ah woe is me the more!)
In praise of that mad Fit, which Fools call Love,
I have in th' Heat of Youth made heretofore
That in light Wits did loose Affection move.
But all those Follies now I do reprove,
And turned have the Tenor of my String,
The heavenly Praises of true Love to sing.

And ye that wont with greedy vain Desire
To read my Fault, and wondring at my Flame,
To warm your selves at my wide sparkling Fire,
Sith now that Heat is quenched, quench my Blame,
And in her Ashes shrowd my dying Shame:
For who my passed Follies now pursues,
Begins his own, and my old Fault renews.

BEFORE this World's great Frame, in which all things
Are now contain'd, found any Being-place;
Ere flitting Time could wag his eyas Wings
About that mighty Bound, which doth embrace
The rolling Sphere, and parts their Howers by space;
That high Eternal Powre, which now doth move
In all these things, mov'd in it self by Love.