Know, lest due warning be denied by thee,An thief thou come male whore shalt surely flee.

Hadst thou as many of apples as offers of verses (Priapus!),Richer than Alcinous ancient of days were thy lot.

Why, cultivator, vainly moan to meThat I, a fruitful apple-tree whilom,For two autumnal seasons barren stand?Weighs me not down (as deemest thou) old age