Mel Heliconium or, Poeticall Honey, Gathered out of The Weeds of Parnassus ... By Alexander Rosse |
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ARISTÆUS
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 | CHAP. I. A Mel Heliconium |  |
ARISTÆUS
40
Of honey, people, and their hopes;
And when Cyrene he ador'd,
He had his swarms again restor'd.
Wee are the Bees, and Christ is he
Who would himself an off'ring be;
He was both Altar, Priest and Hoast,
He found us out when we were lost.
He got us pleasure by his pain,
His death's our life, his losse our gain.
In that we do injoy our lives,
In that our wexin Kingdom thrives:
In that we sit on fragrant flowers,
Bedew'd with pearly drops and showers;
In that our Cells with Nectar slow,
In that our yong ones live and grow:
In that we play in open air,
In that the Heavens are so fair;
In that we have so long a Spring,
And with our humming Meads do ring:
All this we have, and more then this,
By vertue of Christs sacrifice.
Its he who with his gentle breath,
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Its he that loves us night and day,
And yet like fools we run away.
He is our husband, not our foe,
Then whither will you from him go?
You run, but do not see, alas,
The Serpent that lurks in the grasse.
O Lord, when thou dost call on me,
Uncase my eyes, that I may see
Thy love, and beauty of thy face;
And so support me with thy grace
That I may stand; or if I fall,
I may not lose my soul withall.
| CHAP. I. A Mel Heliconium | |