Upon A Spider Catching A Fly

Thou sorrow, venom Elfe.Is this thy play,To spin a web out of thyselfeTo Catch a Fly?For why?

I saw a pettish waspFall foule therein:Whom yet thy whorle pins did not claspLest he should flingHis sting.

But as afraid, remoteDidst stand hereatAnd with thy little fingers strokeAnd gently tapHis back .

Thus gently him didst treateLest he should pet,And in a froppish, waspish heateShould greatly fretThy net.

Whereas the silly Fly,Caught by its legThou by the throate took’st hastilyAnd ‘hinde the headBite Dead.

This goes to pot, that notNature doth call.Strive not above what strength hath gotLest in the brawleThou fall.

This Frey seems thus to us:Hells Spider getsHis intrails spun to whip Cords thusAnd wove to nets,And sets,

To tangle Adams raceIn’s stratagemsTo their Destructions, Spoil’d, made baseBy venom thingsDamn’d Sins.

But mighty, Gracious Lord,CommunicateThy Grace to breake the Cord, affordUs Glorys GateAnd State.

We’l Nightingaile sing like,When pearcht on highIn Glories Cage, thy glory, bright:And thankfully,For joy.

c.1685

l. 6: pettish; ill-tempered

l. 8: whorle pins; complex mechanism, the spiderfs limbs

l. 12: hereat; at a distance

l. 17: pet; get angry

l. 18: froppish; agitated

l. 26: This goes to pot; one dies

l. 31: Frey; conflict, battle

l. 35: sets; traps