Classic Poem

Lo here an end of these our Muses Flights,
which aymed at Mans End , or chiefest GOOD
But if too wilde she were, in heau'nly- Heights ,
let her be made to know it, by the Whood .

If her Desire too high hath made her rise,
(though lesse than God contents not that Desire )
Of Christ , and of his Church she mercy cryes;
and, humbly, stoupes to what they doe require.

Yea, prostrate, she doth fall; nay, vailes her Necke
vnder his Spouse (the Church ) her sacred Feele:
Submitting all her Soarings to her Checke;
and ready to reforme what shee thinkes meete:
If she hath rightly fled, God made that Flight:
If not, she prayes the Church to make it right.

But, knew I ought offensiue to her Eare ,
My Teares should blot It , yer It mended were.