ND is there care in heaven? and is there love In heavenly spirits to these creatures base, That may compassion of their evils move? There is: else much more wretched were the case
Of men than beasts; but, oh! the exceeding grace Of highest GOD, that loves His creatures so, And all His works with mercy doth embrace,
That blessed angels He sends to and fro,
To serve the wicked man, to serve His wicked foe!
How oft do they their silver bowers leave To come to succour us that succour want! How oft do they with golden pinions cleave The flitting skies like flying pursuivant,
Against foul fiends to aid us militant!
They for us fight, they watch and duly ward,
And their bright squadrons round about us plant;
And all for love, and nothing for reward:
Oh, why should heavenly GOD to men have such regard?
MONGST these leaves she made a Butterfly, With excellent device and wondrous sleight, Fluttering among the olives wantonly, That seemed to live, so like it was in sight; The velvet nap which on his wings doth lie, The silken down with which his back is dight, His broad outstretchèd horns, his hairy thighs, His glorious colours, and his glistening eyes.
Which when Arachne saw, as overlaid And mastered with workmanship so rare, She stood astonied long, ne aught gainsaid; And with fast-fixèd eyes on her did stare,
And by her silence, sign of one dismayed, The victory did yield her as her share : Yet she did inly fret and felly burn, And all her blood to poisonous rancour turn.
RESH Spring! the herald of Love's mighty king, In whose coat armour richly are displayed All sorts of flowers, the which on earth do spring; In goodly colours, gloriously arrayed.-
Go to my love, where she is careless laid, Yet in her winter's bower, not well awake; Tell her, the joyous time will not be stayed, Unless she do him by the forelock take: Bid her, therefore, herself soon ready make To wait on Love amongst his lovely crew; Where every one that misseth then her make, Shall be by him amerced with penance due. Make haste, therefore, sweet Love! whilst it is prime; For none can call again the passèd time.
NE day, nigh weary of the irksome way, From her unhasty beast she did alight, And on the grass her dainty limbs did lay In secret shadow far from all men's sight; From her fair head her fillet she undight, And laid her stole aside; her angel's face As the great eye of heaven shinèd bright, And made a sunshine in the shady place: Did never mortal eye behold such heavenly grace.
It fortunèd out of the thickest wood A ramping lion rushèd suddenly, Hunting full greedy after savage blood; Soon as the royal virgin he did spy, With gaping mouth at her ran greedily, To have at once devoured her tender corse; But to the prey whenas he drew more nigh His bloody rage assuagèd with remorse,
And with the sight amazed, forgat his furious force.
Instead thereof, he kissed her weary feet, And licked her lily hands with fawning tongue, As he her wrongèd innocence did weet. Oh, how can beauty master the most strong, And simple truth subdue avenging wrong! Whose yielded pride and proud submission, Still dreading death, when she had markèd long, Her heart 'gan melt in great compassion,
And drizzling tears did shed for pure affection.
The lion would not leave her desolate, But with her went along as a strong guard Of her chaste person, and a faithful mate
Of her sad troubles and misfortunes hard; Still when she slept he kept both watch and ward, And when she waked, he waited diligent, With humble service to her will prepared: From her fair eyes he took commandement, And ever by her looks conceivèd her intent.
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