Through all the lovely realms of native day, Let thofe love now, who never lov'd before;. And, winning her, the Latian empire won. The life of Beauty fills the rural scenes ; Now ftately rams their fleecy conforts lead, Who bleating follow through the wandering fhades. It melts, it warbles, in her liquid throat. How long in coming is my lovely Spring! Let thofe love now, who never lov'd before; HOMER'S NAMES of the FROGS. NAMES of the MICE. PHYSIGNATHUS, one who PSYCARPAX, one fwells his cheeks. Pelts, a name from mud. Hydromedufe, a ruler in the waters. Hypfiboas, a loud bauler. Pelion, from mud. Scutlæus, called from the bces. ho plunders granaries. Troxartas, a bread-eater. Lychomile, a licker of meal. Pternotractas, eater. a bacon Lychopynax, a licker of difbes. Embafichytros, a creeper into pots. Lychenor, a name for licking. Troglodytes, one who runs into holes. Artophagus, who feeds on bread. Tyroglyphus, a cheesefcooper. Pternoglyphus, a baconfcooper. Pternophagus, a bacon cater. Chiffodio&tes, one who follows the fleam of kitchens. Sitophagus, an eater of wheat. Meridarpax, one who plun ders his fhare. HOMER'S HOMER'S BATTLE OF THE FROGS, &c. BOOK I. To fill my rifing fong with facred fire, Ye tuneful Nine, ye fweet celeftial 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 conteft, 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 fhook Olympus' towers, When earth-born giants dar'd immortal powers. Thefe equal acts an equal glory claim, And thus the Mufe records the tale of fame. Once on a time, fatigued and out of breath, And juft efcap'd the ftretching claws of death, A gentle Moufe, whom cats pursued in vain, Fled fwift of foot across the neighbouring plain, Hung o'er a brink, his eager thirst to cool, And dipp'd his whiskers in the standing pool; When near a courteous Frog advanc'd his head; And from the waters, hoarfe-refounding, said, What art thou, ftranger? what the line you boaft ? What chance has caft thee panting on our coaft? With ftrictest truth let all thy words agree, Nor let me find a faithlefs Moufe in thee. |