On the day of the Creation, the trees exultingly extolled themselves
one towards another, every one about itself. "The Lord, by whom I was
planted," said the lofty Cedar, "has united in me firmness, fragrance,
duration, and strength." "Jehovah's affection has rendered me blessed,"
said the widely-spreading Palm-tree; "in me has He conjoined utility
and beauteousness." "Like a bridegroom among the youths," said the
Apple-tree, "I parade among the trees of Paradise." "Like the rose among
the thorns," said the Myrtle, "I stand among my sisterhood, the lowly
shrubs." So all extolled themselves, the Olive, the Fig, and the Pine.
The Vine alone was silent, and drooped to the ground. "To me," said he
to himself, "appears everything to be denied--trunk, branches, blossoms,
and fruit; but such as I am, I will yet hope and wait." He then sank
down, and his tendrils wept. He had not long waited and wept, before the
friendly man, the godhead of the earth, stepped up to him. He saw that a
feeble plant, the sport of the breezes, had sunk, and required help; he
compassionately raised him up, and twined the tender tree to his bower.
More gladly now the breezes played with his tendrils; the glow of the
sun penetrated their hard, greenish buds, preparing in them the sweet
juice, the drink for gods and men. Adorned with rich clusters, the Vine
soon bowed himself down to his master, and he tasted the enlivening
juice, and named him his friend. The proud trees now envied the feeble
shoot, for many of them already stood without fruit; but he was glad of
his slender form and of his steadfast hope. The juice, therefore, even
now gladdens the heart of man, and lifts upwards the courage of the
dejected, and refreshes the afflicted. Despair not, forsaken one, and
abide enduring. In the unsightly cane springs the sweetest juice, and
the feeble tendril brings forth inspiration and rapture.