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Much they refent, yet much their monarch blame, Who rifing, spoke to clear his tainted fame.

O friends, I never forc'd the Moufe to death,
Nor faw the gaspings of his latest breath.
He, vain of youth, our art of swimming try'd,
And vent'rous, in the lake the wanton dy'd.
To vengeance now by false appearance led,
They point their anger at my guiltless head.
But wage the rifing war by deep device,
And turn its fury on the crafty Mice.

Your king directs the way, my thoughts elate
With hopes of conqueft, form defigns of fate.
Where high the banks their verdant surface heave,
And the steep fides confine the fleeping wave,
There, near the margin, clad in armour bright,
Sustain the first impetuous fhocks of fight:
Then, where the dancing feather joins the creft,
Let each brave Frog his obvious Mouse arrest;
Each strongly grasping, headlong plunge a foe,
'Till countless circles whirl the lake below;

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Down fink the Mice in yielding waters drown'd;
Loud flafh the waters; and the fhores refound :
The Frogs triumphant tread the conquer'd plain,
And raife their glorious trophies of the flain.
He spake no more, his prudent scheme imparts
Redoubling ardour to the boldest hearts.

Green was the fuit his arming heroes chose,

Around their legs the greaves of mallows close,
Green were the beets about their shoulders laid,
And green the colewort, which the target made.
Form'd of the vary'd fhells the waters yield,
Their gloffy helmets glift'ned o'er the field:
And tap'ring fea-reeds for the polish'd spear,
With upright order pierc'd the ambient air.
Thus drefs'd for war, they take th' appointed height,
Poize the long arms, and urge the promis'd fight.
But now, where Jove's irradiate spires arise,
With ftars furrounded in ætherial skies,
(A folemn council call'd) the brazen gates
Unbar; the Gods affume their golden feats :

The

The fire fuperior leans, and points to show
What wondrous combats mortals wage below:
How strong, how large, the num'rous heroes ftride,
What length of lance they fhake with warlike pride!
What eager fire, their rapid march reveals!

So the fierce Centaurs ravag'd o'er the dales;
And fo confirm'd, the daring Titans rofe,
Heap'd hills on hills, and bid the Gods be foes.
This feen, the Pow'r his facred vifage rears,
He cafts a pitying fmile on worldly cares,
And asks what heav'nly guardians take the lift,
Or who the Mice, or who the Frogs affift?

Then thus to Pallas. If my daughter's mind
Have join'd the Mice, why stays fhe still behind;
Drawn forth by fav'ry fteams they wind their way,
And fure attendance round thine altar pay,
Where while the victims gratify their tafte,
They sport to please the Goddess of the feaft.

Thus fpake the Ruler of the spacious skies, But thus, refolv'd, the blue-ey'd maid replies.

In vain, my father! all their dangers plead,
To fuch thy Pallas never grants her aid.
My flow'ry wreaths they petulantly spoil,
And rob my chrystal lamps of feeding oil.
(Ills following ills!) but what afflicts me more,
My veil, that idle race profanely tore.

The web was curious, wrought with art divine
Relentless wretches! all the work was mine!
Along the loom the purple warp I spread,
Caft the light fhoot, and croft the filver thread;
In this their teeth a thousand breaches tear,
The thousand breaches fkilful hands repair,
For which vile earthly dunns thy daughter grieve,
(The Gods, that use no coin, have none to give.
And learning's Goddess never lefs can owe,
Neglected learning gains no wealth below.)
Nor let the Frogs to win my fuccour fue,
Those clam'rous fools have loft my favour too.
For late, when all the conflict ceast at night,
When my stretch'd finews work'd with eager fight,
When

When spent with glorious toil, I left the field,
And funk for flumber on my fwelling shield;
Lo from the deep, repelling sweet repose,
With noify croakings half the nation rose :
Devoid of reft, with aking brows I lay,

'Till cocks proclaim'd the crimson dawn of day.
Let all, like me, from either hoft forbear,
Nor tempt the flying furies of the fpear,

Let heav'nly blood (or what for blood may flow)
Adorn the conqueft of a meaner foe.
Some daring Mouse may meet the wond'rous odds,
Tho' Gods oppofe, and brave the wounded Gods.
O'er gilded clouds reclin'd, the danger view,

And be the wars of mortals fcenes for you.

So mov'd the blue-ey'd queen; her words perfuade, Great Jove affented, and the reft obey'd.

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