That good from bad men rarely know,
This apologue may serve to show:
A stag upon a fountain's side,
Beheld his branching horns with pride;
While of his spindle-shanks asham'd,
Their disproportioned form he blam'd.
Sudden he hears the hunter's cries,
And to the forest nimbly flies.
The woods receive their well-known guest.
His tangled horns, his feet arrest;