Upon A Spider Catching A Fly

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

I saw a pettish wasp
Fall foule therein:
Whom yet thy whorle pins did not clasp
Lest he should fling
His sting.

But as afraid, remote
Didst stand hereat
And with thy little fingers stroke
And gently tap
His back .

Thus gently him didst treate
Lest he should pet,
And in a froppish, waspish heate
Should greatly fret
Thy net.

Whereas the silly Fly,
Caught by its leg
Thou by the throate took’st hastily
And 'hinde the head
Bite Dead.

This goes to pot, that not
Nature doth call.
Strive not above what strength hath got
Lest in the brawle
Thou fall.

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

To tangle Adams race
In's stratagems
To their Destructions, Spoil'd, made base
By venom things
Damn'd Sins.

But mighty, Gracious Lord,
Thy Grace to breake the Cord, afford
Us Glorys Gate
And State.

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



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