In The Philosopher and the Pheasants the same truth is conveyed with equal force:—
“Drawn by the music of the groves,
Along the winding gloom he roves.
From tree to tree the warbling throats
Prolong the sweet, alternate notes.
But where he passed he terror threw;
The song broke short—the warblers flew:
The thrushes chattered with affright,
And nightingales abhorred his sight.
All animals before him ran,