Book III, Metre X (I. T.): The True Light

Come hither, all you that are bound,
Whose base and earthly minds are drowned
By lust which doth them tie in cruel chains :
Here is a seat for men opprest,
Here is a port of pleasant rest ;
Here may a wretch have refuge from his pains.
No gold, which Tagus' sands bestow,
Nor which on Hermus' banks doth flow,
Nor precious stones which scorched Indians get,
Can clear the sharpness of the mind,
But rather make it far more blind,
And in the farther depth of darkness set.
For this that sets our souls on work
Buried in caves of earth doth lurk.
But heaven is guided by another light,
Which causeth us to shun the dark,
And who this light doth truly mark,
Must needs deny that Phoebus' beams are bright.