PSYCARPAX, One who PHYSIGNATHUS, One

OF THE

FROGS AND MICE.

BOOK I.

O fill my rifing fong with facred fire, Ye tuneful Nine, ye sweet celestial quire! From Helicon's imbow'ring height repair, Attend my labours, and reward my pray❜r. The dreadful toils of raging Mars I write, The fprings of contest, and the fields of fight; How threat'ning Mice advanc'd with warlike grace, And wag'd dire combats with the croaking race. Not louder tumults fhook Olympus' tow'rs, When earth-born giants dar'd immortal pow'rs. Thofe equal acts in equal glory claim, And thus the Mufe records the tale of fame.

Once on a time, fatigu'd and out of breath, And just escap'd the stretching claws of death, A gentle Mouse, whom Cats purfu'd in vain, Fled fwift-of-foot across the neighb'ring plain, Hung o'er a brink, his eager thirst to cool, And dipt his whiskers in the standing pool;

When near a courteous Frog advanc'd his head;
And from the waters, hoarfe-refounding faid:

What art thou, stranger? what the line you
boaft?
What chance has caft thee panting on our coast?
With strictest truth let all thy words agree,
Nor let me find a faithless Mouse in thee.
If worthy friendship, proffer'd friendship take,
And ent'ring view the pleasurable lake:
Range o'er my palace, in my bounty fhare,
And glad return from hofpitable fare.
This filver realm extends beneath my sway,
And me, their monarch, all its Frogs obey.
Great Phyfignathus I, from Peleus' race,
Begot in fair Hydromede's embrace,

Where by the nuptial bank that paints his fide,

The swift Eridanus delights to glide.

Thee too, thy form, thy strength, and port proclaim

A fcepter'd king; a fon of martial fame ;

Then trace thy line, and aid my gueffing eyes.

Thus ceas'd the Frog, and thus the Mouse replies.

Known to the Gods, the men, the birds that fly Thro' wild expanfes of the midway sky, My name refounds; and if unknown to thee, The foul of great Pfycarpax lives in me, Of brave Troxartas' line, whofe fleeky down In love comprefs'd Lychomile the brown. My mother fhe, and princefs of the plains Where-e'er her father Pternotroctas reigns:

Born where a cabin lifts its airy fhed,
With figs, with nuts, with vary'd dainties fed.
But fince our natures nought in common know,
From what foundation can a friendship grow?
Thefe curling waters o'er thy palace roll;
But man's high food fupports my princely foul.
In vain the circled loaves attempt to lye
Conceal'd in flaskets from my curious eye,
In vain the tripe that boasts the whiteft hue,
In vain the gilded bacon fhuns my view,
In vain the cheefes, offspring of the paile,
Or honey'd cakes, which Gods themselves regale.
And as in arts I fhine, in arms I fight,

Mix'd with the bravest, and unknown to flight.
Tho' large to mine the human form appear,
Not Man himself can fmite my foul with fear.
Sly to the bed with filent steps I go,
Attempt his finger, or attack his toe,

And fix indented wounds with dextrous fkill;
Sleeping he feels, and only feems to feel.
Yet have we foes which direful dangers caufe,
Grim Owls with talons arm'd, aud Cats with claws,
And that falfe trap, the den of filent fate,

Where Death his ambush plants around the bait:
All-dreaded these, and dreadful o'er the rest
The potent warriours of the tabby vest;
If to the dark we fly, the dark they trace,
And rend our heroes of the nibbling race.