Sing fair Clorinda, sing whilst you move
  Those that attend the throne above,
To leave their holy business there,
  Till each with his obedient ear
Shall so much harmony attain,
  To think the spheres were made in vain.

Since here's a voice quickens the sloth
  Of nature's age, it comforts growth
In all her works, and can provoke
  A lily to outlive an oak.