Then ftrongly tugg'd, return'd imbru'd with gore, And on the pile his reeking entrails bore:

The lame Sitophagus oppress'd with pain,
Creeps from the desp'rate dangers of the plain;
And where the ditches rifing weeds supply

To spread their lowly fhades beneath the fky,
There lurks the filent Mouse reliev'd from heat,
And safe embow'r'd, avoids the chance of fate.
But here Troxartas, Phyfignathus there,
Whirl the dire furies of the pointed fpear:
But where the foot around its ankle plies,
Troxartas wounds, and Phyfignathus flies,
Halts to the pool, a safe retreat to find,
And trails a dangling length of leg behind.
The Mouse ftill urges, ftill the Frog retires,
And half in anguish of the flight expires.

Then pious ardor young Praffæus brings,
Betwixt the fortunes of contending kings;

Lank, harmless Frog! with forces hardly grown,

He darts the reed in combats not his own,

Which

Which faintly tinkling on Troxartas' shield,
Hangs at the point, and drops upon the field.
Now nobly tow'ring o'er the reft appears

A gallant prince that far tranfcends his years,
Pride of his fire, and glory of his house,
And more a Mars in combat than a Mouse:
His action bold, robuft his ample frame,
And Meridarpax his refounding name.
The warrior fingled from the fighting croud,
Boafts the dire honours of his arms aloud;
Then ftrutting near the lake, with looks elate,
To all its nations threats approaching fate.
And such his ftrength, the filver lakes around
Might roll their waters o'er unpeopled ground...
But pow'rful Jove, who fhews no lefs his grace
To Frogs that perifh, than to human race,
Felt foft compaffion rifing in his foul,
And fhook his facred head, that shook the pole.
Then thus to all the gazing pow'rs began

The fire of Gods, and Frogs, and Mice, and Man.

What

What seas of blood I view! what worlds of flain ! An Iliad rifing from a day's campaign;

How fierce his jav'lin o'er the trembling lakes
The black-fur'd heroe Meridarpax shakes!
Unless fome fav'ring Deity defcend,
Soon will the Frogs loquacious empire end.
Let dreadful Pallas wing'd with pity fly,
And make her Ægis blaze before his eye:
While Mars refulgent on his ratling car,
Arrests his raging rival of the war.

He ceas'd, reclining with attentive head,
When thus the glorious God of combats said.
Nor Pallas, Jove! tho' Pallas take the field,
With all the terrors of her hiffing shield,
Nor Mars himself, tho' Mars in armour bright
Ascend his car, and wheel amidst the fight;
Not these can drive the defp'rate Mouse afar,
Or change the fortunes of the bleeding war.
Let all go forth, all heav'n in arms arise,
Or launch thy own red thunder from the skies.

Such

Such ardent bolts as flew that wond'rous day,

When heaps of Titans mix'd with mountains lay, When all the giant-race enormous fell,

And huge Enceladus was hurl'd to hell.

'Twas thus th' armipotent advis'd the Gods, When from his throne the cloud-compeller nods,Deep length'ning thunders run from pole to pole, Olympus trembles as the thunders roll.

Then swift he whirls the brandifh'd bolt around,
And headlong darts it at the distant ground;
The bolt discharg'd inwrap'd with lightning flies,
And rends its flaming paffage thro' the skies:
Then earth's inhabitants, the nibblers, shake,
And Frogs, the dwellers in the waters, quake.
Yet ftill the Mice advance their dread defign,
And the last danger threats the croaking line,
'Till Jove that inly mourn'd the lofs they bore,
With strange affiftants fill'd the frighted fhore.

Pour'd from the neighb'ring strand, deform'd to

They march, a sudden unexpected crew!

[view,

Strong

Strong futes of armour round their bodies close,
Which, like thick anvils, blunt the force of blows;

In wheeling marches turn'd oblique they go;
With harpy claws their limbs divide below;
Fell sheers the paffage to their mouth command;
From out the flesh their bones by nature stand;
Broad spread their backs, their shining shoulders rife ;
Unnumber'd joints diftort their lengthen'd thighs;
With nervous cords their hands are firmly brac'd ;.
Their round black eye-balls in their bofom plac'd ;
On eight long feet the wond'rous warriors tread ;.
And either end alike fupplies a head..

Thefe, mortal wits to call the Crabs, agree,
The Gods have other names for things than we.

Now were the jointures from their loins depend,
The heroes tails with fev'ring grafps they rend.
Here, short of feet, depriv'd the pow'r to fly,

There, without hands, upon the field they lie.
Wrench'd from their holds, and scatter'd all around,

The bended lances heap the cumber'd ground.

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