The Oak and its Branches. A Fable. Occasion'd by seeing a dead Oak beautifully encompass'd with Ivy. Mary Barber Alexander Huber Editor Bodleian Libraries, University of Oxford
Broad Street Oxford OX1 3BG UK
Eighteenth-Century Poetry Archive
Taylor Institution Library St Giles' Oxford OX1 3NA UK info@eighteenthcenturypoetry.org https://www.eighteenthcenturypoetry.org/
Oxford This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License. T42622 519 p. 45 Barber, Mary, ca. 1690-1757. Poems on Several Occasions [poems only]. London Printed for C. Rivington, at the Bible and Crown in St. Paul's Church-Yard 1734 pp. 48-49. xlviii,283,[7]p.; 8⁰.

This e-text is part of the Works section of the Eighteenth-Century Poetry Archive (ECPA).

XML created for the Eighteenth-Century Poetry Archive (ECPA).

Typography, spelling, capitalization, and punctuation have been cautiously modernized. The source of the text is given and all significant editorial interventions have been recorded in textual notes. This text has been edited to conform to the recommendations found in Level 5 of the Best Practices for TEI in Libraries version 4.0.0.

Library of Congress Name Authority File (LCNAF) text-indent: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em; text-align: center; text-align: right; text-align: left; display: inline font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;
The Oak and its Branches . A Fable . Occasion'd by seeing a dead Oak beautifully encompass'd with Ivy . An Oak , with spreading Branches crown'd , Beheld an Ivy on the Ground , Expos'd to ev'ry trampling Beast , That roam'd around the dreary Waste . The Tree of Jove , in all his State , With Pity view'd the Ivy's Fate ; And kindly told her , She should find Security around his Rind : Nor was that only his Intent , But to bestow some Nourishment . The Branches saw , and griev'd to see Some Juices taken from the Tree . Parent , say they , in angry Tone , Your Sap should nourish us alone : Why should you nurse this Stranger Plant , With what your Sons , in time , may want ; May want , to raise us high in Air , And make us more distinguish'd there . 'Tis well — the Parent-Tree reply'd ; Must I , to gratify your Pride , Act only with a narrow View Of doing Good to none but you ? Know , Sons , tho' Jove hath made me great , I am not safe from Storms of Fate . Is it not prudent then , I pray , To guard against another Day ? Whilst I'm alive , You crown my Head ; This graces me alive , and dead .