Thee too, thy form, thy ftrength, and port proclaim Thus ceas'd the Frog, and thus the Mouse replies. Of brave Troxartas' line, whose fleeky down My mother she, and princess of the plains Conceal'd in flafkets from my curious eye. In In vain the tripe that boasts the whiteft hue, In vain the cheeses, offspring of the paile, Mix'd with the bravest, and unknown to flight. Attempt his finger, or attack his toe, And fix indented wounds with dextrous skill, Yet have we foes which direful dangers caufe, Grim owls with talons arm'd, and cats with claws, And that falfe trap, the den of filent fate, Where Death his ambush plants around the bait : If to the dark we fly, the dark they trace, But But me, nor stalks, nor watrish herbs delight, As thus the downy prince his mind expreft, Thy words luxuriant on thy dainties rove, And, stranger, we can boast of bounteous Jove: We sport in water, or we dance on land, And born amphibious, food from both command. But trust thyself where wonders ask thy view, And fafely tempt thofe feas, I'll bear thee thro': Afcend my shoulders, firmly keep thy feat, And reach my marshy court, and feast in state. He said, and bent his back; with nimble bound Leaps the light Mouse, and clasps his arms around, Then wond'ring floats, and fees with glad furvey The winding banks resembling ports at sea. But when aloft the curling water rides, And wets with azure wave his downy fides, His His thoughts grow conscious of approaching woe, His locks he rends, his trembling feet he rears, Half-drench'd in liquid death his pray'rs he spake, Trembling and fainting all the vent'rous way; With oary And fafe in Crete depos'd his lovely load. My trembling limbs to reach his ample court. As thus he forrows, death ambiguous grows, For Forgetful Frog! the friend thy fhoulders bore, Supinely falls, and grinds his teeth with grief, Nor thou, that fling'ft me flound'ring from thy back, As from hard rocks rebounds the shatt'ring wrack, Nor thou fhalt 'scape thy due, perfidious king! Purfu'd by vengeance on the swiftest wing: At land thy ftrength could never equal mine, But heav'n has Gods, and Gods have searching eyes : This faid, he fighing gafp'd, and gasping dy d. His death the young Lychopinax espy'd, As on the flow'ry brink, he pass'd the day, |