Classic Poem

XXXVII

Such is the course that nature's kind hath wrought
That snakes have time to cast away their stings.
A'inst chained prisoners what need defence be sought?
The fierce lion will hurt no yielden things.
Why should such spite be nursed then in thy thought
Sith all these powers are prest under thy wings?
And eke thou seest and reason thee hath taught
What mischief malice many ways it brings.
Consider eke that spite availeth naught.
Therefore this song thy fault to thee it sings.
Displease thee not for saying thus my thought
Nor hate thou him from whom no hate forth springs,
For furies, that in hell be execrable,
For that they hate are made most miserable.