His mother, Venus, heard his grief, And cried for vengeance, like one mad, On Jove and Nemesis,--in brief, On gods of all kinds, good and bad. The case, she said, was very strong: Her blind son would require a stick And dog, to help him walk along. Alas! for cruel Folly's trick. The gods poor Cupid's case discussed,-- And boys and girls in love decide, Decreeing that it's only just, Folly should Love in future guide. FABLE CCXXIV. THE WOLF AND THE FOX. How comes this general discontent? Here is a man, for lack of wit, Longing to live beneath the tent The soldier's longing so to quit. A certain Fox aspired to be A Wolf: and who's prepared to say The Wolf may not think luxury Consists in the lamb's peaceful play? It much surprises me to find A poet prince, but eight years old, Who writes prose of a better kind Than I can verse--aye, twenty fold-- Though long experience makes me bold. The thoughts throughout his fable spread Are not a poet's work, I know. They're numerous and better said; Unto a prince the praise we owe. I play upon a simple pipe: That is my talent--just to please; But soon my hero, growing ripe, The clarion will make me seize. I am no prophet, yet I read The starry signs that promise give. His glorious acts will Homer need; Homer, alas! he does not live.