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H O M E R's

BATRACHOMUOMACHIA:

OR, THE

BATTLE OF THE FROGS AND MICE.

D 2

PHYSIGNATHUS, one who swells his cheeks.
PELUS, a name from mud.
HYDROMEDUSE, a ruier in the waters.
HYPSIBOAS, a loud bauler.
Pelion, from mud.
SCUTLÆUS, called from the bees.
POLYPHONUS, a great babler.
LYMNOCHARIS, one who loves the lake.
CRAMBOPHAGUS, a cabbage-eater.
LYMNISIUS, called from the lake.
CALAMINTHIUS, from the herb.
HYDROCARIS, who loves the water.
BORBOROCATES, who lies in the mud,
PRASSOPHAGUS, an eater of garlick.
PELUSIUS, from mud.
PELOBATES, who walks in the dirt.
PRESSÆUS, called from garlick.
CRAUGASIDES, from croaking.

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

BOOK I.
To fill my rising song with sacred fire,

Ye tuneful Nine, ye sweet celestial quire !
From Helicon's imbowering 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, fatigued and out of breath,
And just escap'd the stretching claws of death,
A

gentle Mouse, whom cats pursued in vain,
Fled swift of foot across the neighbouring plain,
Hung o'er a brink, his eager thirst to cool,
And dipp'd his whiskers in the fanding pool ;
When near a courteous Frog advanc'd his head,
And from the waters, hoarse-resounding, said,
What art thou, stranger? what the line you

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
Conceal'd in flaskets from

my
curious

eye.
In vain the tripe that boasts the whiteft hue,
In vain the gilded bacon shuns my view,
In vain the cheeses, offspring of the pail,
Or honey'd cakes, which gods themselves regale ;
And as in arts I shine, in arms I fight,
Mix'd with the bravest, and unknown to fight,
Though large to mine, the human form appear,
Not man himself can smite my soul with fear,
Sly to the bed with silent steps I go,
Attempt his finger, or attack his toe,
And fix indented wounds with dextrous skill,
Sleeping he feels, and only seems to feel.
Yet have we foes which direful dangers cause,
Grim owls with talons arm’d, and cats with claws,
And that false trap, the den of filent fate,
Where death his ambush plants around the bait :
All dreaded these, and dreadful o'er the rest
The potent warriors of the tabby veft,
If to the dark we fly, the dark they trace,
And rend our heroes of the nibbling race,
But me, nor stalks nor waterish herbs delight,
Nor can the crimson radish charm my fight,
The lake-resounding Frogs selected fare,
Which not a Mouse of any taste can bear.

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:

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