Ruin impends on those who crave
The false protection of a knave.
The Pigeons by their nimble flight
Had still escap'd the rav'nous Kite.
From force despairing of his prize,
The rogue assum'd a friendly guise;
Advis'd they should a treaty make,
And him for their protector take:
"Than whom," he says, "none better knows,
To guard them from surrounding foes."
The harmless race his lies believe,
The robber for their guard receive;
Who soon with beak and talon shows
What a vile patron they had chose.
Says one, whom chance had still preserv'd,
'Tis what our folly has deserv'd!"
Source: Boothby - Phaedrus 1.29.
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