H. His Deuises for his owne exercise, and his Friends pleasure [by Thomas Howell] |
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To his Friend E. R. of the Bee.
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 | H. His Deuises |  |
To his Friend E. R. of the Bee.
Where as thy minde I see doth mounte,to buylde thy nest on hye:
I thinke it good in meaner sorte,
thy wings thou guyde to flye.
For loftie trees on Mountayne toppes,
with euery blustering blaste
Are shaken sore, when trees belowe
doe stande both firme and faste.
The Bee whose force but feeble is,
to Beastes of bigger powre:
Hir selfe doth feede with Hony sweete,
when greater taste things sowre.
Which prooues the meane with minde content,
more happy lyfe we see:
Than is to taste the sowre, and sitte
in seate of highe degree.
From thorny shrubs and barren soyle,
swete sap the Bee doth sucke:
When bigger beastes in fertyle Fields,
with nipping stormes are stucke.
And he within his symple Cell,
doth dwell in safety sounde:
When such as seeke to sayle aloft,
in dole are oft times drounde.
Seeke not therefore with troubled minde,
at stately porte to riue:
But liue content as doth the Bee,
within his homely Hiue.
So shall thy foode be Honie sweete,
though Fortune smile or frowne:
And eke in safetie shalt thou sit,
when higher tumble downe.
| H. His Deuises | |