Oh, lover, happy lovers! never separate, I say, But by the nearest rivulet your wandering footsteps stay. Let each unto the other be a world that's ever fair, Ever varied in its aspects, ever young and debonair. Let each be dear to each, and as nothing count the rest. I myself have sometimes been by a lover's ardour blest, And then I'd not have changed for any palace here below, Or for all that in the heavens in lustrous splendour glow, The woods, and lanes, and fields, which were lightened by the eyes, Which were gladdened by the feet of that shepherdess so fair,-- So sweet, and good, and young, to whom, bound by Cupid's ties,-- Fast bound, I thought, for ever, I first breathed my oaths in air. Alas! shall such sweet moments be never more for me? Shall my restless soul no more on earth such tender objects see? Oh, if I dared to venture on the lover's path again, Should I still find sweet contentment in Cupid's broad domain? Or is my heart grown torpid?--are my aspirations vain? FABLE CLXVIII. EDUCATION. Cæsar and Laridon, his brother, Both suckled by the same dear mother, Sprang from an ancient royal race; Right hardy in the toiling chase. Two masters shared the noble brood; And one the kitchen, one the wood Made his home. Yet still the same, They both kept their former name. Place and custom altered them In their nature, not in limb. The one dog purchased by the cook, Laridon for title took. His brother to renown soon soars, Slays by dozens stags and boars. Soon as Cæsar he was known, And as wonderful was shown. But for Laridon none cared, Or his children--how they fared. So the Turnspits spread through France-- Vulgar dogs, that toil or dance: Timid creatures, as one sees Cæsar's true antipodes. Time, neglect, and luckless fate Make a race degenerate; Wise men's sons turn simpletons; Cæsars become Laridons. [Illustration: THE MADMAN WHO SOLD WISDOM.] FABLE CLXIX. THE MADMAN WHO SOLD WISDOM.