His thoughts grow conscious of approaching woe,
His idle tears with vain repentance flow,
His locks he rends, his trembling feet he rears,
Thick beats his heart with unacuftom'd fears;
He fighs, and chill'd with danger, longs for fhore :
His tail extended forms a fruitless oar,
Half-drench'd in liquid death his pray'rs he spake,
And thus bemoan'd him from the dreadful lake.
So pafs'd Europa thro' the rapid sea,
Trembling and fainting all the vent❜rous way;
With oary feet the bull triumphant rode,
And safe in Crete depos'd his lovely load.
Ah fafe at laft! may thus the Frog support
My trembling limbs to reach his ample court.
As thus he forrows, death ambiguous grows,
Lo! from the deep a water-Hydra rofe;
He rolls his fanguin'd eyes, his bosom heaves,
And darts with active rage along the waves.
Confus'd, the monarch fees his hiffing foe,
And diyes, to fhun the fable fates, below.
Forgetful Frog! the friend thy fhoulders bore,
Unfkill'd in swimming, floats remote from fhore.
He grafps with fruitless hands to find relief,
Supinely falls, and grinds his teeth with grief,
Plunging he finks, and struggling mounts again,
And finks, and strives, but ftrives with fate in vain.
The weighty moisture clogs his hairy vest,
And thus the prince his dying rage exprest.
Nor thou, that fling'ft me flound'ring from thy back, As from hard rocks rebounds the shatt'ring wrack, Nor thou shalt 'scape thy due, perfidious king! Purfu'd by vengeance on the fwifteft wing:
At land thy ftrength could never equal mine,
At fea to conquer, and by craft, was thine.
But heav'n has Gods, and Gods have searching eyes:
Ye Mice, ye Mice, my great avengers rise !
This faid, he fighing gasp'd, and gasping dy d,
His death the young Lychopinax espy'd,
As on the flow'ry brink, he pass'd the day,
Bafk'd in the beams, and loiter'd life away.
Loud fhrieks the Moufe, his fhrieks the fhores repeat;
The nibbling nation learn their heroe's fate :
Grief, dismal grief enfues; deep murmurs found,
And thriller fury fills the deafen'd ground.
From lodge to lodge the facred heralds run,
To fix their council with the rifing fun ;
Where great Troxartas crown'd in glory reigns,
And winds his length'ning court beneath the plains;
Pfycarpax' father, father now no more!
For poor Pfycarpax lies remote from shore;
Supine he lies! the filent waters ftand,
And no kind billow wafts the dead to land!
HEN rofy-finger'd morn had ting'd the
clouds,
Around their Monarch-moufe the nation crouds,
Slow rose the fov'reign, heav'd his anxious breaft,
And thus the council, fill'd with rage, addrest.
For loft Pfycarpax much my foul endures,
'Tis mine the private grief, the public, yours.
Three warlike fons adorn'd my nuptial bed,
Three fons, alas, before their father dead!
Our eldest perifh'd by the rav'ning cat,
As near my court the prince unheedful fat.
Our next, an engine fraught with danger drew,
The portal gap'd, the bait was hung in view,
Dire arts affift the trap, the fates decoy,
And men unpitying kill'd my gallant boy!
The laft, his country's hope, his parent's pride,
Plung'd in the lake by Phyfignathus, dy'd.
Roufe all the war, my friends! avenge the deed,
And bleed that monarch, and his nation bleed.
His words in ev'ry breast inspir'd alarms,
And careful Mars fupply'd their hoft with arms.
In verdant hulls defpoil'd of all their beans,
The bufkin'd warriors ftalk'd along the plains:
Quills aptly bound, their bracing corfelet made,
Fac'd with the plunder of a cat they flay'd:
The lamp's round bofs affords their ample fhield;
Large, fhells of nuts their cov'ring helmet yield;
And o'er the region, with reflected rays,
Tall groves of needles for their lances blaze.
Dreadful in arms the marching Mice appear;
The wond'ring Frogs perceive the tumult near,
Forfake the waters, thick'ning form a ring,
And ask, and hearken, whence the noises spring.
When near the croud, difclos'd to public view,
The valiant chief Embafichytros drew :
The facred herald's fcepter grac'd his hand,
And thus his words exprest his king's command.
Ye Frogs! the Mice with vengeance fir'd, advance,
And deck'd in armour shake the fhining lance:
Their hapless prince by Phyfignathus slain,
Extends incumbent on the watry plain.
Then arm your hoft, the doubtful battle try;
Lead forth thofe Frogs that have the foul to die. The chief retires, the croud the challenge hear, And proudly fwelling yet perplex'd appear:
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