The purest soul that e'er was sent Into a clayey tenement Informed this dust, but the weak mould Could the great guest no longer hold; The substance was too pure, the flame Too glorious, that thither came: Ten thousand Cupids brought along A grace on each wing, that did throng For place there, till they all oppressed The seat in which they sought to rest; So the fair model broke, for want Of room to lodge th' inhabitant. |