Take Wing, My Soule, and Mount Up Higher; For, Earth, Fulfills Not My Desire
WHen Ganymed, himselfe was purifying,
Great Iupiter, his naked beauty spying,
Sent forth his Ægle (from below to take him)
A blest Inhabitant, in Heav’n to make him:
And, there (as Poets feigned) he doth still,
To Iove, and other God-heads, Nectar fill.
Though this be but a Fable, of their feigning,
The Morall is a Reall truth, pertayning
To ev’ry one (which harbours a desire
Above the Starry Circles, to aspire.)
By Ganymed, the Soule is understood,
That’s washed in the Purifying flood
Of sacred Baptisme (which doth make her seeme
Both pure and beautifull, in God’s esteeme.)
The Ægle, meanes that Heav’nly Contemplation,
Which, after Washings of Regeneration,
Lifts up the Minde, from things that earthly bee,
To view those Objects, which Faith’s Eyes doe see.
The Nectar, which is filled out, and given
To all the blest Inhabitants of Heaven,
Are those Delights, which (Christ hath sayd) they have,
When some Repentant-soule beginnes to leave
Her foulnesse; by renewing of her birth,
And, slighting all the Pleasures of the Earth.
I aske not, Lord, those Blessings to receive,
Which any Man hath pow’r to take, or give;
Nor, what this World affords; for, I contemne
Her Favours; and have seene the best of them:
Nay, Heav’n it selfe, will unsufficient bee,
Vnlesse, Thou, also, give Thy selfe, to mee.