“No more lewd lays of lighter loves I sing”

No more lewd lays of lighter loves I sing,
Nor teach my lustful muse abused to fly
With sparrows' plumes, and for compassion cry
To mortal beauties which no succor bring.
But my muse, feathered with an angel's wing,
Divinely mounts aloft unto the sky,
Where her love's subjects, with my hopes, do lie.
For Cupid's darts prefigurate hell's sting;
His quenchless torch foreshows hell's quenchless fire,
Kindling men's wits with lustful lays of sin
Thy wounds my cure, dear Savior! I desire,
To pierce my thoughts, thy fiery cherubin,
By kindling my desires true zeal t'infuse,
Thy love my theme, and Holy Ghost my muse!