Tannhäuser

For Love is lord of truth and loyalty, Lifting himself out of the lowly dust On golden plumes up to the purest sky, Above the reach of loathly sinful lust, Whose base affect through cowardly distrust Of his weak wings dare not to heaven fly, But like a moldwarp in the earth doth lie. His dunghill thoughts, which do themselves enure To dirty dross, no higher dare aspire. Nor can his feeble earthly eyes endure The flaming light of that celestial fire Which kindleth love in generous desire, And makes him mount above the native might Of heavy earth, up to the heaven's height. Spenser, Hymn in Honour of Love.