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It melts, it warbles, in her liquid throat:
Of barbarous Tereus she complains no more,
But sings for pleasure, as for grief before;
And still her graces rise, her airs extend,
And all is silence till the Siren end.
How long in coming is my lovely spring?
And when shall I, and when the swallow sing?
Sweet Philomela, cease; or here I sit,
And silent lose my rapturous hour of wit:
'Tis gone, the fit retires, the flames decay,
My tuneful Phoebus flies averse away.
His own Amycle thus, as stories run,
But once was silent, and that once undone.
Let those love now, who never lov'd before; Let those who always lov'd, now love the more.
Illa cantat: nos tacemus.
Quando faciam ut celidon, ut tacere desinam? Perdidi musam tacendo, nec me Phoebus respicit. Sic Amyclas, cum tacerent, perdidit silentium. Cras amet, qui numquam amavit; quique amavit, cras amet.
BATTLE OF THE FROGS AND MICE.
NAMES OF THE MICE.
PSYCARPAX, one who plunders granaries.
Troxartes, a bread-eater.
Lychomyle, a licker of meal.
Pternotroctas, a bacon-eater.
Lychopinax, a licker of dishes.
Embasichytros, a creeper into pots.
Lychenor, a name from licking.
Troglodytes, one who runs into holes.
Artophagus, who feeds on bread.
Tyroglyphus, a cheese-scooper.
Pternoglyphus, a bacon-scooper.
Pternophagus, a bacon-eater.
Cnissodioctes, one who follows the steam of kitchens.
Sitophagus, an eater of wheat.
Meridarpax, one who plunders his share.
PHYSIGNATHUS, one who swells his cheeks.
Peleus, a name from mud.
Hydromeduse, a ruler in the waters.
Hypsiboas, a loud bawler.
Pelion, from mud.
Seutlæus, called from the beets.
Polyphonus, a great babbler.
Lymnocharis, one who loves the lake.
Crambophagus, a cabbage-eater.
Lymnisius, called from the lake.
Calaminthius, from the herb.
Hydrocharis, who loves the water.
Borborocates, who lies in the mud.
Prassophagus, an eater of garlick.
Pelusius, from mud.
Pelobates, who walks in the dirt.
Prassæus, called from garlick.
Craugasides, from croaking.
HOMER'S BATTLE OF THE FROGS, ETC.
To fill my rising song with sacred fire,
Ye tuneful Nine, ye sweet celestial quire!
From Helicon's embowering height repair,
Attend my labours, and reward my prayer.
The dreadful toils of raging Mars I write,
The springs of contest, and the fields of fight;
How threatening mice advanc'd with warlike grace,
And wag'd dire combats with the croaking race.
Not louder tumults shook Olympus' towers,
When earth-born giants dar'd immortal powers.
These equal acts an equal glory claim,
And thus the Muse 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 pursu'd in vain,
Fled swift 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, hoarse-resounding, said,