Jesuite Poem by John Collop

See, see the subtile texture of each line!
The Spider spins her curious web lesse fine.
Th' Spider infusing poison, thus takes th' Fly,
While in her web she weaves her destiny.
Beware of th' Net which from a Spider came;
Nor for the light of heav'n mistake hells flame;
Like sacred bellows they the soul may blow,
Whether to make it to Contrition glow,
And zealous fervor, or to subtilize,
And make't to flames of Contemplation rise.
But ah! with soul on Contemplations wing,
Most deal as boyes with birds do in a string;
Draw down on seeds of errour for to feed,
Or by officious handling make to bleed.
A spark of heav'n devotion may inspire;
Contentions flames are kindled at hells fire.