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. The Hero With His Well-Mail'D Coat Nibbles The Branches Tall So; A Mighty Longing Feels The Goat Gently To Climb Up Also. And So, My Friends, Ere Long Ye See The Tree All Leafless Standing; It Looks A Type Of Misery, Help Of The Gods Demanding. Then Listen, Ye Ingenuous Youth, Who Hold Wise Saws Respected: From He-Goat And From Beetles-Tooth A Tree Should Be Protected!