LXII. William Warner

THE BROOSER of the serpent’s head;

The woman’s promiz’d seed;

The second in the Trinitie;

The foode our soules to feed;

The vine, the light, the doore, the way,

The shepheard of vs all,

Whose manhood ioyn’d to Deitie

Did ransome vs from thrall;

That was, and is, and euermore

Will be the same to his;

That sleeps to none that wakes to him;

That turns our curse to blis:

Whom yet vnseene the patriarks saw,

The prophets had foretold;

The apostles preacht; the saints ador’d;

And martyrs do behold.

The same—Augustus emperor—

In Palestine was born

Amongst his own, and yet his own

Did curse their blis in scorn.