Kriloff’s Original Fables
Some hops grew in a garden wide,
Winding their lengthening stems around a dry stake’s wood;
And in the field outside a young oak stood.
” What use in such a monster’s pride,
Ay, even in that of all his race beside ? ”
Thus whispered of the oak the Hops unto the stake. ” How can he with thyself compare,
Were it but for thy straightness’ sake ? His dress of leaves is passing fair, But what sad colour, and what stiffness there
For what can earth his roots thus feed ? ” A week passed, and the master found he’d need
Of wood, so he the stake in pieces broke,
And in the garden planted the young oak. His trouble with success is crowned
The oak takes root, and from it young shoots spring
But see, our Hops already wind around,
And in his honour loudest praises sing !
To this doth flattery its votaries bring : They cast on thee the shade of things that have not been,
Ofwhat themselves have dreamed, and, work thy best, No good in thee at all can ever rest
But, once thou art with fortune’s favours blest
The first to fill thy anteroom they’re seen.
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