Life, joy (or what could make him smile).
The Fox obtains thro’ horrid guile;
My life, my humble guiltless joys,
At once a gen’rous trust destroys;
Jove’s slumb’ring vengeance lets him fly,
His goodness slumbers while I die.”
A sylvan god who pass’d that way
(Of old none wander’d more than they),
By chance the rash impeachment heard,
And instant on the brink appear’d.