By thirst compell'd, to the same brink,
A Wolf and Lamb approach'd to drink;
The Wolf above, the Lamb much lower.
When urg'd by hunger's wicked power,
The tyrant thus a quarrel sought:
"How dar'st thou muddy thus my draught?"
"Sir," says the Lamb, "that cannot be,
"For the stream runs from you to me."
"Well, well," replied the Wolf, "I know
"You slander'd me six months ago."
"Indeed, good Sir, I was not born."
"Then 'twas your father spoke with scorn."
This said, he seiz'd his trembling prey,
And bore poor Wooly-sides away.
To you this fable I address,
Who on false grounds the weak oppress.
Source: Boothby - Phaedrus 1.1.
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