Fidessa more chaste then kinde. By B. Griffin |
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SONNET. XXVI.
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 | Fidessa |  |
SONNET. XXVI.
[The sillie bird that hasts vnto the net]
The sillie bird that hasts vnto the net,And flutters to and fro till she be taken,
Doth looke some foode or succour there to get,
But looseth life, so much is she mistaken.
The foolish flie that flieth to the flame,
With ceaseles houering, and with restles flight,
Is burned straight to ashes in the same,
And findes her death, where was her most delight.
The proude aspiring boye that needes would prie
Into the secrets of the highest seate,
Had some conceite to gaine content thereby,
Or else his follie sure was wondrous great.
These did through follie perish all and die,
And (though I know it) euen so doe I.
| Fidessa | |