The raven once in snowy plumes was drest,
White as the whitest dove's unsullied breast,
Fair as the guardian of the Capitol,
Soft as the swan; a large and lovely fowl
His tongue, his prating tongue had changed him quite
To sooty blackness from the purest white.
Ants do no bend their ways to empty barns, so no friend will visit the place of departed wealth.
[Lat., Horrea formicae tendunt ad inania nunquam
Nullus ad amissas ibit amicus opes.]