A YOUNG fig-tree its form lifts high Within a beauteous garden; And see, a goat is sitting by. As if he were its warden. But oh, Quirites, how one errs! The tree is guarded badly; For round the other side there whirrs And hums a beetle madly. The hero with his well-mail`d coat Nibbles the branches tall so; A mighty longing feels the goat Gently to climb up also. And so, my friends, ere long ye see The tree all leafless standing; It looks a type of misery, Help of the gods demanding. Then listen, ye ingenuous youth, Who hold wise saws respected: From he-goat and from beetles-tooth A tree should be protected!SourceThe script ran 0.001 seconds.
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