The spreading branches of uxorious vines,
Clasp round each other with encircling twines.
The climbing Ivy does the Oak embrace,
And meets with verdant wreaths his bending face.
The feather’d tribes that wing the firmament,
By instinct led, to wedded love consent:
They range the neighb’ring meads in quest of food,
And guard and cherish their young callow brood.
And shall the creatures without just pretence,
Alone possess this high pre-eminence?