Poems, by that most famous wit, William Drummond of Hawthornden

IF that the World doth in amaze remaine, To heare in what a sad deploring mood, The Pelican poures from her brest her Bloud, To bring to life her younglings back againe? How should we wonder at that soveraigne Good, Who from that Serpents sting (that had us slaine) To save our lives, shed his Lifes purple flood, And turn'd to endlesse Joy our endlesse Paine? Ungratefull Soule, that charm'd with false Delight, Hast long long wander'd in Sins flowry Path, And didst not thinke at all, or thoughtst not right On this thy Pelicans great Love and Death, Here pause, and let (though Earth it scorn) heaven se•• Thee poure forth tears to him pour'd Bloud for thee.