 | The Passionate Sparke of a Relenting Minde |  |
Of a Bee.
Madrigall.
De l' Ape ch' Io prouai Dolce, e Crudele
Le ago nel Core, Nella bocca La mele.
Le ago nel Core, Nella bocca La mele.
Once did I see
a sounding Bee.
Amongst her sweetned swarme
still would shee flee
and fauour me.
Then did I dread no harme.
a sounding Bee.
Amongst her sweetned swarme
still would shee flee
and fauour me.
Then did I dread no harme.
Now whilst in Nectred-glory of her gaines,
Shee sitts and suckes the fayre well-florisht flower:
My sugred hopes are turn'd to bitter paines,
And lookt-for-sweete is nothing elles but sower
Ah cruell sweete Bee sweet and cure my smart,
Honny my mouth, but doe not stinge my hart.
Shee sitts and suckes the fayre well-florisht flower:
My sugred hopes are turn'd to bitter paines,
And lookt-for-sweete is nothing elles but sower
Ah cruell sweete Bee sweet and cure my smart,
Honny my mouth, but doe not stinge my hart.
FINIS.
| The Passionate Sparke of a Relenting Minde | |