But hush! it settles on the mead.
I have it safe now, I declare!
And when its form I closely view,
'Tis of a sad and dingy blue—
Such, Joy-Dissector, is thy case indeed
1767-9. ——- EXPLANATION OF AN ANTIQUE GEM,
A YOUNG fig-tree its form lifts high
Within a beauteous garden;
And see, a goat is sitting by.
As if he were its warden.
But oh, Quirites, how one errs!
The tree is guarded badly;
For round the other side there whirrs
And hums a beetle madly.