276 The Poets and Nature. 



Among these he spends his days, or goes off to court some 

 "queen" out on her nuptial flight and summoning her 

 suitors. Then the season of courtship and nuptials comes 

 to an end. But the burly drone does not know it, and goes 

 blundering into the hive as usual, and goes to sleep full 

 of honey and fatigued with pleasure. And the horrible 

 awakening ! The hive is all astir, and the voices of the 

 workers are hot and hoarse. They are rushing about in 

 all directions, dragging out the drones from where they lie 

 asleep, stabbing them to death, and dragging their bodies on 

 to the sunny ledge, dropping them over on to the ground 

 beneath. The massacre does not take long. For the 

 drones have no stings, and can do no more when the 

 poisoned poniards slip in between their scales than shrill 

 for mercy; which is never granted. So they die in the 

 midsummer of their pleasure. 



"She," for in poetry the working neuter is always ad- 

 dressed as feminine, is both the wax-producer, "working 

 her formal rooms in waxen frame " (Spenser), and the honey- 

 gatherer. She 



' ' Gives us food that may with nectar vie, 

 And wax that does the absent sun supply." Waller. \ 



Apart from its industry, the bee's skill, both in "distilling " 

 nectar and as a scientific architect, meets with very adequate 

 recognition. Thus : 



"Spring's unfolded blooms 

 Exhaling sweetness, that the skilful bee 

 May taste at will, from their selected spoils, 

 To work her dulcet food." Akenside. 



' ' The busy tribe 



Of bees, so emulous, are daily fed 

 With heaven's peculiar manna. 'Tis for them, 

 Unwearied alchemists, the blooming world 

 Nectareous gold distils." Hurdis. 



