There was a Vine teeming with ripe fruit and tender shoots,
when a wanton Goat came up and gnawed the bark,
and browsed upon the young leaves.
“I will revenge myself on you,” said the Vine,
“for this insult; for when in a few days you are brought as a victim to the altar, the juice of my grapes shall be the dew of death upon thy forehead.”
Retribution, though late, comes at last.