Names of the FROGS. | Names of the MICE.

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BATTLE of the FROGS, &c.

BOOK I.

O fill my rising song with facred fire,

T°

Ye tuneful Nine, ye fweet celeftial 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.
These equal acts an 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 swift of-foot across the neighb'ring plain,
Hung o'er a brink, his eager thirft 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,

boaft?

What art thou, franger? what the line you
What chance has caft thee panting on our coast
With ftrictest truth let all thy words agree,
Nor let me find a faithless Mouse in thee.

If worthy, friendship, profer'd friendship take,
And ent'ring view the pleasurable lake:
Range o'er my palace, in my bounty share,
And glad return from hofpitable fare.
This filver realm extends beneath my fway,

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

Thee too, thy form, thy ftrength, and port proclaim A fcepter'd King; a son of martial fame;

Then trace thy line, and aid my gueffing eyes.
Thus ceas'd the Frog, and thus the Moufe replies.
Known to the Gods, the men, the birds that fly
Thro' wild expanses of the midway sky,

My name refounds; and if unknown to thee,
The foul of great Psycarpax lives in me.

Of brave Troxartas' line, whose fleeky down
In love compress'd Lychomile the brown.

My mother she, and princess of the plains
Where-e'er her father Pternotractas reigns:
Born where a cabin lifts its airy shed,
With figs, with nuts, with vary'd dainties fed.
But fince our natures nought in common know,
From what foundation can a friendship grow?
These curling waters o'er thy palace roll;
But man's high food supports my princely foul.
In vain the circled loaves attempt to lye
Conceal'd in flafkets from my curious eye.

In

In vain the tripe that boasts the whiteft hue,

In vain the gilded bacon fhuns my view,

In vain the cheeses, offspring of the paile,

Or honey'd cakes, which Gods themselves regales, And as in arts I fhine, in arms I fight,

Mix'd with the braveft, and unknown to flight,

Tho' large to mine, the human form appear,

Not man himself can smite 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, and 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 reft
The potent warriors of the tabby vest,

If to the dark we fly, the dark they trace,

And rend our heroes of the nibbling race,

But