| |
| WHILST I beheld the neck o’ th’ dove, | |
| I spied and read these words. | |
| ‘This pretty dye | |
| Which takes your eye, | |
| Is not at all the bird’s. | 5 |
| The dusky raven might | |
| Have with these colours pleased your sight, | |
| Had God but chose so to ordain above;’ | |
| This label wore the dove. | |
| |
| Whilst I admired the nightingale, | 10 |
| These notes she warbled o’er. | |
| ‘No melody | |
| Indeed have I, | |
| Admire me then no more: | |
| God has it in His choice | 15 |
| To give the owl, or me, this voice; | |
| ’Tis He, ’tis He that makes me tell my tale;’ | |
| This sang the nightingale. | |
| |
| I smelt and praised the fragrant rose, | |
| Blushing, thus answer’d she. | 20 |
| ‘The praise you gave, | |
| The scent I have, | |
| Do not belong to me; | |
| This harmless odour, none | |
| But only God indeed does own; | 25 |
| To be His keepers, my poor leaves He chose;’ | |
| And thus replied the rose. | |
| |
| I took the honey from the bee, | |
| On th’ bag these words were seen. | |
| ‘More sweet than this | 30 |
| Perchance nought is, | |
| Yet gall it might have been: | |
| If God it should so please, | |
| He could still make it such with ease; | |
| And as well gall to honey change can He;’ | 35 |
| This learnt I of the bee. | |
| |
| I touch’d and liked the down o’ th’ swan; | |
| But felt these words there writ. | |
| ‘Bristles, thorns, here | |
| I soon should bear, | 40 |
| Did God ordain but it; | |
| If my down to thy touch | |
| Seem soft and smooth, God made it such; | |
| Give more, or take all this away, He can;’ | |
| This was I taught by th’ swan. | 45 |
| |
| All creatures, then, confess to God | |
| That th’ owe Him all, but I. | |
| My senses find | |
| True, that my mind | |
| Would still, oft does, deny. | 50 |
| Hence, Pride! out of my soul! | |
| O’er it thou shalt no more control; | |
| I’ll learn this lesson, and escape the rod: | |
| I, too, have all from God. | |
| |
