« PreviousContinue »
PHYSIGNATHUS, one who swells his cheeks.
NAMES of the MICE. PSYCARPAX, one who plunders granaries. TROXARTAS, a bread-eater. LYCHOMILE, a licker of meal. PTERNOTRACTAs, a bacon-eater. LYCHOPYNAX, a licker of dishes. EMBASICHYTROS, a creeper into pots. LYCHENOR, a name for licking. TROGLODYTES, one who runs into holes. ARTOPHAGUS, who feeds on bread. TYROGLY.PHUS, 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.
H O M E R's
BATTLE OF THE FROGS, & Co
Ye tuneful Nine, ye sweet celestial quire !
Once on a time, fatigued and out of breath,
gentle Mouse, whom cats pursued in vain,
boast What chance bas cast 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 entering view the pleasurable lake; Range o'er my palace, in my bounty share, And glad return from hospitable fare : This silver realm extends beneath my sway, And me, their monarch, all its Frogs obey. Great Physignathus 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 scepter'd king; a son of martial fame; Then trace thy line, and aid my guessing eyes. Thus ceas'd the Frog, and thus the Mouse replies.
Known to the gods, the men, the birds that fly Through wild expanses of the midway sky, My name resounds; and if unknown to thee, The soul of great Pfycarpax lives in me. Of brave Troxartas' line, whose sleeky 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 cabbin 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
As thus the downy prince his mind expreft, His answer thus the croaking king addrest :
Thy words luxuriant on thy dainties rave, And, ftranger, we can boast of bountcous Jove: