A book for boys and girls, or, Country rhimes for children by J.B.

XXXIIII. Of the Rose-bush.

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THis homely Bush doth to mine eyes expose, A very fair, yea comely, ruddy, Rose. This Rose doth also bow its head to me, Saying, come, pluck me, I thy Rose will be. Yet offer I to gather Rose or Bud, Ten to one but the Bush will have my Blood.

This looks like a Trappan, or a Decoy, To offer, and yet snap who would enjoy. Yea, the more eager on't, the more in danger, Be he the Master of it, or a Stranger.

Bush, why dost bear a Rose? If none must have it, Why dost expose it, yet claw those that crave it?

Art become freakish? Dost the Wanton play, Or doth thy testy humour tend this way?

Comparison.

This Rose God's Son is, with his ruddy Looks. But what's the Bush? Whose pricks, like Tenter-hooks, Do scratch and claw the finest Ladies hands, Or rent her Cloths, if she too near it stands.

This Bush an Emblem is of Adam's race Of which Christ came, when he his Father's Grace Commended to us in his crimson Blood, While he in Sinners stead and Nature stood.

Thus Adam's Race did bear this dainty Rose, And doth the same to Adam's Race expose: But those of Adam's Race which at it catch, Adam's Race will them prick and claw and scratch.