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FAB. LXXVI. The Trees and Thorn.
THE Trees desird the Olive to accept
The chief Command o'th' leafy Nation;
To whom, he said, can you believe, that I,
Who live contented with my own Estate,
Whose Fruit is so much prizd by Gods, and Men,
Will change my happy Life for anxious Cares,
Always attending upon Crowned Heads?
No, lay this weight on some ambitious Fool.
Being thus repulsd, they to the Fig-Tree went,
And beggd him to supply the vacant Throne;
Can you, said he, suppose I'll quit my Fruit,
Which is more sweet than the Hyblean Honey,
For Aloes, and Gall, the food of Kings?
Being twice repulsd, they to the Vine repaird,
And humbly beggd him to accept the Crown,
He shewd his Branches loaded with ripe Grapes,
More bright in colour than the Tyrian Purple,
You see, said he, my Riches and my Store,
These pleasant Grapes which such a Liquor yield,
That recreates the heart of God, and Man.
Can you desire me quit this happy Station,
And my self ruin, to preserve your Nation?
If I do so, I justly may be deemd
The greatest Fool of Trees. I'll be no King.
Tird with denyals, they at last chose the Thorn,
Who greedily lays hold o'th' profferd Crown,