HOMER in a Nutshell: OR, HIS WAR BETWEEN THE Frogs and the Mice, Paraphrastically Translated. In Three CANTOS. By SAMVEL PARKER, Gent.

—Quando (que) bonus dormitat Homerus.

Hor. de Arte Poet.

LONDON: Printed for Tho. Newborough, at the Golden Ball in St. Paul's Church-yard. MDCC.

To Sir R. L.

SIR,

YOU know the Sacredness of Liberty and Property. Now all stragling Apologues fall to you as Lord of the Mannor, and the very Ghost of Aesop (no very agreable Appar­tion, you may imagin) of Poggius, Abstemius, and my own old blind Author too for Company, durst I with-hold the Due, wou'd e'ry Night draw my Curtains 'till You had Justice done You. Besides as Duty and real Interest are ever inseparable, so particularly in the present Instance it's the Privilege of Your humble Imitators that by doing You Fealty they challenge Your Protection, the very end of Government, when at the same time too our Tribute's but a Peppercorn-rent, make the best on't, and Your Subjects are more beholden to You for accepting, than You to them for paying their Acknowledg­ments.

I have frequently wonder'd at the Confidence of Authors in expecting to be gratify'd for their Dedications, and oftener at the Weakness of Patrons, that they'll vouchsafe 'em those dishonourable Encouragements. For first, it's Ten to One but the great Man catches a Tartar, or provides for a Bantling that is not worth a Clout: Or secondly, if he has reason to be proud of his Purchase, all the Glory and Encomium of the Epistle smells abominably rank of Confederacy and Bar­gain. Maecenas but spoils his own Market while he makes a liberal Art a mercenary one; and when the Orator or the Poet is to draw his Picture beyond the Life, he cann't be con­tented unless he set for't with a Cap and Bells forsooth! of his own providing. In a Word, the Fee shou'd rather ac­crue to the Patron from the Scribler, and little enough at last too considering what a Cause he's oblig'd to attend: Now my little harmless homely Ditty Petitions for no more than barely the benefit of the two Capital Letters aforesaid. It applys in forma Pauperis, and the Translator will mag­nify Your Charity both in his Author's Name and in his own, if You'll keep his Calliope in countenance gratis. Nay indeed the whole is but a Cur'sy to my Dancing-Master, par­don [Page] the levity of the Allusion. You were my Apollo, my Heli­con, and my Muses; that Ocean of true Wit and good Sense from which the Drill, as to all that's tolerable in it, derives it­self, and into which it as naturally returns, 'though at the ex­pence of its Acrimony in the Circulation.

But hold! 'tis high time to enter upon the main Business of an Epistle Dedicatory, the Patron's Apotheosis. And what now must I extol? Your Integrity, Constancy and Courage? Alas! 'tis a long time ago since these pass'd for recommendatory Quali­ties; nay of very dangerous Consequence might it prove to us Both, at this time o' Day, should I blurt out a Syllable in fa­vour of 'em. Your Letters then, your Iudgment, your Wit, your Prudence? That were as much as to say all the World did not already admire 'em, ever excepting my Brother C—; and I verily believe too, even he, cou'd the Man have as good an Opinion of any Body as of himself, wou'd entertain it of you.

How then shall I manage my Address? Assume the modish Figure call'd Apophasis or Whispering aloud, and run you a long Division upon your several Excellencies with a Not to mention 'em? Or shall I tell you that your Modesty being a Nusance to the rest of your Virtues, I had rather be wanting in my Duty to Them, than most inhumanely torture That? Nauseous, vile, pedantick Forms! and as prostituted Common-places as Pa­negyrick itself! What remains therefore but the liberty of making this brief, bare, and simple, yet candid Profession, that I am,

Honour'd SIR, Most sincerely and most humbly Your Servant, as oblig'd, S. Parker.

THE PREFACE.

Gentle Peruser!

IN the first place the Translator wou'd have thee know he never pre­tended to the Character of a Poet, and as he desires to 'scape the Scandal of the Name, so he will not value himself the more for any good Success, or the less for any Disappointment; seeing after all, in Things of this Nature, every Man will be his own Critick, and the People of nice Rule and quaint Observation, betray the vanity of their Maxims, while scarce a Couple in the whole Pack agree about the suitableness of any one Ingredient, but that which is most incompati­ble with the true Scope of the Art, the Recommendation and Encou­ragement of Immorality and Irreligion: However, finding himself dispos'd now and then to try his Skill, and observing the Canto-cut has of late carry'd the Day, he thought good to bestow a few Hours upon the Translation of a Poem which, and very deservedly, has been celebrated for many Ages; a Poem, which for neatness of Wit, live­liness of Description and regularity of Conduct, equals any part of the Iliads, perhaps excells any part of the Odysses.

And yet as just and regular as I found this Poem, I perceiv'd it wou'd never jump in English with the Humour of the Age, till I had spoild it by some unwarrantable Alterations, which being printed in a smaller Character, the Reader may observe without the trouble of Com­paring. The two most material of 'em are these; first, That whereas, according to my Author, the Frog seems not out of a treacherous Prin­ciple to have serv'd the Mouse as he did, I have made him design the worst all along, very consonantly too, if I mistake not, to the Chara­cter the Poet fixes afterwards upon him, where he makes him vindicate himself by that egregious Falsity, v. 146. [...], &c. And not injuriously neither to the Series of the Story: Then again, that almost upon the same Inducements I have made him improve or rather explain the Stratagem, by which, in the Conclusion of that Speech, the Frog proposes to defeat the Mice. Beside these many slighter Al­terations will occur, and here and there an Addition of my own, Printed also in a small Cha­racter. but which I hope he can as readily forgive as dis­cern.

[Page]For what relates to the Scope and Import of the Fable, I am not per­suaded with Aristobulus, that Homer compos'd it only for the Di­version and Exercise of School-Boys; the Design appears to have been more momentous, it carries a Face of Instruction upon the Matter of Civil Government, and the Moral is plainly Political. In the occa­sion of the War between the Frogs and the Mice, we see with what mi­serable Consequences the generous Credulity of a Prince on one hand abus'd by the Craftiness and Treachery of a Neighbour on the other, is like to be attended. On the part of the Mouse, 'twas imprudent to re­pose so great Confidence in a Politician of a distinct or rather opposite Interest and Temper, tho' on the part of the Frog 'twas not only a bold Violation of Divine and Humane Laws to play such a Game, but still more impolitick to stir up so Potent an Adversary, and dare the Vengeance not of Heaven alone (for he seems to have troubled his Head little enough about that) but withal of so many well-disciplined resolute Ca­valiers, of which Commotions the Issue will ever be fatal to their Au­thor, how much soever Things may succeed to his Wishes for a Season. The great Distributer of Dues loves to defer his Inflictions as long as his Iustice will permit; but when that Period's once expir'd, he sends down both Principal and Interest upon the Heads of the Incorrigible. I confess, the Poet has not intimated so much; nay, has describ'd Ju­piter as a malicious Enemy to the Mice. But then we must remem­ber he had represented him before in a State of Indifference, resolv'd with his Family not to interpose in behalf of this Party or that, nor to concern himself otherwise than as an idle Spectator. Indeed, the free­dom the Poet took with his Gods, was, in respect of himself, an un­pardonable Presumption, and nothing ought to be built upon it, or in­ferr'd from it. Agen, the Consummation of the Fray gives us to un­derstand, That Superiority and Dominion are the most slippery Things in the World, and have their Vicissitudes of Rising and Sinking as ne­cessarily as two Buckets in a Well. The Mice at first are too hard for the Frogs, and 'twas but Reason to imagine 'em so 'till they had taken their just Revenge: But then the Crabs came upon the Mice in the very Pride of their Victory, and by a course kind of Argument, convinc'd 'em in their turn of the Instability of Human Affairs. Nay, there's yet a further meaning in the Close of the Allegory; for 'though the Frogs deserv'd ten times more than what they suffer'd from the Mice; yet we know, the Mice hod been as little remarkable for strict Morals as the most profligate Animals that e'r mov'd upon all Four. The Temptation of a mouldy Crust cou'd prevail with 'em at any time to break thro' all Obligations of Religion and Honour. The Sugge­stions [Page] of their Appetites they made the Rule of their Duty, and pre­tended a Privilege, under the Notion of Natural Freedom, to plun­der their Landlords and One another as often as they pleas'd: How then were the Caitiffs rigorously dealt with? What reason had they to expect more favour than the Frogs? In good earnest, I think they had too much shew'd 'em before; and 'twas an Act of special Condescension in Jupiter to lay the Frogs at the Mercy of the Mice, and not the Mice rather at the Mercy of the Frogs. And so much by way of In­terpretation.

If the Criticks shou'd be displeas'd at any Grammatical or Poetical Liberties I have taken, they'd highly oblige me. And the longer Bill the [...] prefer, the better: Though let 'em distort Words, mangle Pe­riods, and misapply Aristotle, Horace, and Bossu, till they're out of breath, I'll lay 'em a Wager at last they cann't discover so many Faults in the Performance as their humble Servant. I earnestly beg of 'em to honour me with a Hiss, and shall be most proud of their Condemnation, well-knowing their Sentence is always to be constru'd, like O—ts's Depositions, backward. Ever since I caught some ter­magant Ones in a Club, undervaluing our new Translation of Virgil, I've known both what Opinion I ought to harbour, and what use to make of 'em, and since the Opportunity of a Digression so luckily presents it self, I shall make bold to ask the Gentlemen their Sentiments of two or three Lines (to pass over a thousand other Instances) which they may meet with in that Work. The fourth Aeneid says of Dido, after certain Effects of her taking Shelter with Aeneas in the Cave ap­pear,

Conjugium vocat, hoc praetexit nomine culpam.

v. 172.

Which Mr. Dryden renders thus,

She call'd it Marriage, by that specious Name
To veil the Crime and sanctifie the Shame.

Nor had he before less happlily render'd the 39th Verse of the second Aeneid,

Scinditur incertum studia in contraria vulgus.
The giddy Vulgar, as their Fansies guide,
With noise say nothing, and in Parts divide.

[Page]If these are the Lines which they call Flat and Spiritless, I wish mine cou'd be Flat and Spiritless too! And therefore to make short work, I shall only beg Mr. Dryden's leave to congratulate him upon his admirable Flatness and Dulness in a Rapture of Poetical Indig­nation,

Then dares the
I desire these Ap­pellations may not seem to af­fect the Parties concern'd any other­wise than as to their Character of Criticks.
poring Critick snarl? And dare
The
I desire these Ap­pellations may not seem to af­fect the Parties concern'd any other­wise than as to their Character of Criticks.
puny Brats of Momus threaten War?
And cann't the proud perverse Arachne's Fate
Deter the
I desire these Ap­pellations may not seem to af­fect the Parties concern'd any other­wise than as to their Character of Criticks.
Mungrils e'r it prove too late?
In vain, alass! we warn the
I desire these Ap­pellations may not seem to af­fect the Parties concern'd any other­wise than as to their Character of Criticks.
harden'd Brood:
In vain expect they'll ever come to good.
No: They'd conceive more Venom if they cou'd.
But let each
I desire these Ap­pellations may not seem to af­fect the Parties concern'd any other­wise than as to their Character of Criticks.
Viper at his Peril bite,
While you defie the most ingenious Spite.
So Parian Columns rais'd with costly care
I desire these Ap­pellations may not seem to af­fect the Parties concern'd any other­wise than as to their Character of Criticks.
Vile Snails and Worms may dawb, yet not impaire,
While the tough Titles and obdurate Rime
Fateague the busie Grinders of old Time.
Not but your Maro justly may complain,
Since your Translation ends his ancient Reign,
And but by your officious Muse outvy'd,
That vast Immortal Name had never dy'd.

But asking my Reader's Pardon for my Impertinences, I have now no more to add, but desire him to fall to, and much good may't do him.

ERRATA.

PAge 9. line 15. for Wight read Wights, p. 11. l. 15. for were r. wee, p. 17. l. 8. for fix r. fix'd, p. 17. l. 20. for wreathing r. wreaking, p. 18. l. 13. for Boaster r. Bogster.

[Page 1]Homer in a Nutshell.

CANTO I.

WHEN now the murm'ring Vaulters of the Mead
Had climb'd to Pow'r, and rear'd a mighty Breed:
Doom'd by Latona for a bruitish Crime
To Stygian Mud and pestilential Slime,
'Till Application, Stratagem, and Trade,
A Blessing of the Malediction made;
And what with strenuous Limbs, and slight of Art,
Tough Lungs, auspicious Leaps, and hollow Heart,
More Wealth, more Splendor, more Command acquir'd,
Than if the Boors had never been bemir'd.
When now the little, shaggy, liqu'rish Race
Of Animals that scud from Place to Place,
Or galloping through pliant Grass and Wheat,
Or gluttonously bury'd in their Meat,
Still trembling, jealous, malecontent, altho'
Thrice happy, wou'd they let themselves be so;
[Page 2]Grown up t' a populous and potent State
Had surfeited on Tides of luscious Fate,
Nor valu'd foreign Friends, nor foreign Hate,
A dire Campaign commenc'd: Less veh'ment far
Th' outragious Flame of the Titanian War,
Then when the lofty Boys of sullen Ops
With Dragon Feet oppress'd the Mountain-tops:
Rocks pil'd on Rocks, from ruinous Ascents
Crowding they storm'd Heav'n's Sapphir-Battlements,
While the warm Gods bright Vollies fast return'd,
And with vindictive Flames the hissing Aether burn'd.
Desert, harmonious Nine, your sacred Hill▪
A Work divine proceeds: Inspire my Quill,
Inspire as when my Verse ye form'd of old:
Verse that in lowd Heroick Numbers rowl'd:
Your Bard invokes, propitiously disclose
From what malignant Seeds the Feud arose.
Grim Puss, the squeaking Nation's watchful Bane
Pursu'd a Mouse, and almost had o'rta'n,
Yet miss'd the Racer, whose laborious Flight,
Full near as fatal as Grimalkin's Bite,
Enforc'd with Fears had Nature's Tone unstrung,
And to his droughthy Pallat glu'd his Tongue.
The next cool Plash he seeks, and soon arrives
Where plunging deep his Beard the Wight revives.
But scarce was drench'd when from th' unwholsome Flood
King Bogrill issu'd, and thus croak'd aloud.
Soho! My Friend in venerable Fur!
What are you, say, and whence, Platonick Sir?
Fictions and Quibbles will disgrace your Coat:
But if you hold in one consistent Note,
You're welcome to the Monarch of this Ditch,
A Monarch, tho' I say't, renown'd and rich,
By King Crocracro, when his Love was hot,
Upon the Body of Queen Skip begot.
And not to flatter, in that Sylvan Face
Methinks I read a brave Majestick Grace,
If my nice Opticks grosly don't deceive,
Or Laws of Phis'nomy we may believe.
—My Life on't, bred to War, and nobly steel'd,
Thy Looks, my Lad, proclaim thee of the Field.
To him Illustrious Nibble: For your Sense,
I say no more; but your Intelligence
Imperfect is, or none; else at first view
You must have seen both whence I am and who.
From Pypick and Queen Curdylip I spring,
Great Snapcrust's Daughter, and my self a King.
My Royal Mother, Sir, was brought a' Bed
In Grange magnificent, and there she bred
Her Child so well, ne'er Mousling better fed.
Figs, mellow Figs my Breakfast ev'ry Morn,
At Noon Plum-pudding, and at Night young Corn.
So far'd long since the plain Pypickian Court,
But now we Diet in a daintier sort.
[Page 4]Then, with Submission, what your Highness croaks,
Tho' kindly meant, appears a Paradox;
That you, a Frog, and I shou'd correspond:
For how shou'd Frogs of Inland Mice grow fond?
Or We converse with Sprawlers of the Pond?
A most absurd Alliance 'tis we wish,
You cannot live in Meal, nor I with Fish.
Man's Meat is mine, and of each sort the best,
Rich Soops, Ragous, and Hashes nicely drest:
Your Marmalets, your candy'd Peels I love,
The Ladies and my Self are Hand and Glove.
Sated with Kickshaws I the Gentry quit,
To tast below, for change, a coarser Bit.
Cream-cheese, cold Capon, Ven'son-Pasty, Chine,
Just so the Gods themselves wou'd like to Dine;
For let Romantick Fools chant what they please,
Ambrosia's e'en Poor Iack compar'd to these.
What skill in Arms and Courage I've exprest,
The Foe that felt their Force can tell you best.
Mounting a Mole, soon as the Charge we hear,
I still the foremost of our Troops appear.
Death undismay'd in twenty Forms I meet,
And by my bold Example still defeat
Our Army's Flight, and all th' Invader's Heat.
Nor Butlers me nor Bumkins can surprize;
My Courage bears proportion to their Size.
Or if [...]y turgid Nerves shou'd chance to fail,
My vengeful Politicks, be sure, prevail.
Does Cook-maid spy me mumping a Recruit,
And with a Woman's Fury pers [...]cute?
[Page 5]No sooner bouncing Bridget snoars in bed,
And dreams of Dalliances with Coachman Ned,
But up creeps Tit-mouse, ventures at a bite,
Disturbs imagin'd Sweets, and so good Night.
O cou'd I once from Kites and Cats be freed,
Vermin by Fate arm'd to destroy the Breed!
Cou'd I from that curs'd Fabrick be secure,
Dragg'd into which by some enchanting Lure,
Ourselves precipitate th' impending Snare,
And block up all Retreats but black Despair,
Confin'd above by stubborn Canopy,
Hew'n from the Trunk of the dread Thund'rer's Tree,
Champing in vain our Adamantine Grate,
As unrelenting as the force of Fate!
O! might I get these Grievances redrest,
No Polycrates cou'd be half so blest!
'Till then my want of Manners you'll excuse,
If such kind Invitations I refuse.
You much oblige me, Sir: But I profess
I ne'er lov'd Duckry nor your Water-cress.
He say'd: The marshy Monarch grinning wide,
To his departing Stranger thus reply'd,
Yet stay, my Godlike Guest—
Let me for once your Majesty convince,
These Realms yield Belly-timber for a Prince.
On Dainties of the Garden or the Brook
We glut, and Nature our unerring Cook.
[Page 6]With foreign Guegaws and domestick stor'd
I'll furnish out, believe me, such a Board,
As might transport, cou'd but the Trick be try'd,
Sardanapalus in a Mouses Hide.
Only be pleas'd (and make no more ado)
To board my Back instead of a Canow,
Securely so, my Lord, you'll ferry o'r,
And at the Pallace-stairs be set a'shoar.
Advising thus the Prince expos'd his Back,
And Russet rode as soon a-pick-a-pack.
He smirks, he cocks his Ears, and works his Tail,
O'rjoy'd to think how rarely he shall sail;
'Till his Canow plung'd all into the Deep,
And then the banter'd Knight begun to weep.
In rage he plucks his Furs, robustly spurns
With quiv'ring Haunches, while at Soul he burns.
He felt his Honour had receiv'd a Wound,
And wish'd but for the sight of solid Ground.
Much he resents his Fate, but more he fears:
Now with stiff Tail he rows, and now he steers.
Witness, Immortal Pow'rs, he cry'd, and Thou—
And then the Diver duck'd his Cargo low.
Restor'd to kindly Draughts of upper Air
He thus proceeds, Great Iove once proud to bear
Thy trembling Mistress on thy goodly Chine
Thro' frothy Tumors of the dancing Brine,
Behold!—But e'r that Word his Lips escap'd,
A painted Floater, formidably shap'd
[Page 7]Travers'd the curling Tide, a hungry Pest,
With Jaws Tartarian and erected Crest.
The yellow Knight near Danger apprehends,
And biting poor Pilgarlick's Fingers-ends,
Breaks his Embrace, and into Mud descends.
In vain the vig'rous Chief deserted sprawls,
Beats the vext Element, and pants, and calls.
Thrice through th' Abyss unwillingly he sinks,
Emerges thrice, yet soon chill Death he drinks,
For now the soaky Hide too pond'rous grew,
And boding thus he bid the Light adieu.
Yes, Traytor, thou shalt feel, and that e'r long,
How much th' offended Gods resent my Wrong.
Iove sends his Bolts on thy devoted Head,
My self infernal Scorpions from the Dead.
O! had'st thou call'd me to the Lists, and there
Approv'd thy Skill—But, Slave, thou did'st not dare.
Expect avenging Squadrons on thy Coast
To sacrifice thee to my longing Ghost.
He spoke: Then with a mighty Plunge expir'd,
And down to Styx his angry Shade retir'd.

CANTO II.

FIxt on the mossy Bank an Ozier Shed
O'rlook'd the Lake, long time inhabited
By Tallow-lick, a Mouse of Life obscure,
An humble Rustick, honest, old, and poor.
He from his Lattice first discern'd a'float
Th' extended Hero, and in pitteous Note,
Much injur'd Prince, he screams, nor stands to dress,
But up to Court flies with the sad Express.
Revenge and Grief, e'r scarce the Tale was heard,
In each wild Face Competitors appear'd.
Full-proof against the Toyls and Storms of State,
The good old King now sunk beneath this Weight:
To soothing Comforts deaf the frentick Queen
Tears off her Ermin, skulks and wo'n't be seen.
The py-bald Nymphs his ev'ry Grace recal,
And much deplore the Youth's untimely Fall.
Scarce was the King's cold Paroxysm spent
Of Woe, when Rage supplanting Discontent,
Four Heralds he around the Pallace sends
To cite his faithful Counsellors and Friends.
Soon to the Board the cited Council run,
Where thus aloud th' impatient King begun.
Sirs, 'tis a publick Wound. Not I'm alone
Depriv'd of th' Heir and Collegue of my Throne.
My Subjects too have lost a mighty stay:
I miss my Child, but their Defender They—
Curst Fate of a declining Sire! To see
Of three brave Sons the sad Catastrophe!
My First by tabby Cannibal destroy'd,
My Second into Wooden Death decoy'd!
And now the hopefull'st of my Stem is found
By a false Monarch in his Marshes drown'd.
To Arms, to Arms! Th' Occasion checks Delay:
Old as I am my self will lead the way.
Scarce the gray Sage had clos'd his trembling Lips,
When from the Clouds the God of Battle slips,
And with rich Arms the zealous Wight equips.
A Coat of Mail to cover Back and Side,
He plaited from a Snake's forsaken Hide.
Dry Pescods, whose green Embryos once had lin'd
Their Bellies, now around their Shanks they bind.
Flat Cockle-shells on Gravel-Walk new lay'd
Impenetrable, radiant Corslets made.
Nor sought th' assiduous Band in vain for Shields,
A Brazier's Shop a thousand Save-alls yields.
A Foot of Wire each haughty Pikeman trails,
And at their Hips hang (four a Penny) Nails.
Helmets of Acorn-cups their Fronts protect,
With Tags of Silk and waving Plume bedeckt.
[Page 10]Appointed thus through Labyrinths of Grass,
The Warriors to their Expedition pass.
Mean while preventing Fame, of eager Flight
As Northern Blasts, pernicious as their Blight,
A sprouting Ill, on her own Vitals fed,
At first a Dwarf, in Cells and Grotto's bred,
But soon the yielding Clouds receive her Head;
With Noise, and Lies, and Obloquys ne'r cloy'd,
All Ears, all Eyes, all Tongue, and All employ'd,
Alarms th' amphibious People of the Lake:
To Shoar the terrify'd Musicians make.
Grave Magistrates in a long rev'rend Train
Hop to the shining Capitol a main,
The noisy Mob expecting all around
Th' event of Consultations so profound.
But e'r th' august Assembly deep had div'd
Into the Meaning, from the Mice arriv'd
A valiant Herald, portly Mumblebun,
Magnanimous Lapcustard's eldest Son,
Who boldly thus the Senators addrest,
My Lords, my Master wou'd ha' scorn'd t'infest
Your happy State; but not to prosecute
So foul a Fact wou'd make him Party to't.
On him the Guilt of Murder must devolve,
Did he not now by Force of Arms resolve
You Prince to punish, who but yesternight,
Spight of all National and Private Right,
[Page 11]Betray'd and Drown'd great Pypick's gallant Heir:
For War, for hideous War, ye Frogs, prepare.
He menacing withdrew, and rugged Notes
Result confus'dly from their lab'ring Throats.
Against th' Aggressor lowd Complaints arise,
Who thus evades the Charge with specious Lies,
Witness, ye Pow'rs, to whose especial Care
The Rights of Truth and Faith submitted are:
Blast me with exemplary Plagues, and shed
Contagions thick on this perfidious Head,
If Bogrill e'r has instrumental been
To the young Prince's Harm, or e'r has seen
Or heard of his Mishap! A-lack-a-day!
I warrant you the Lad was got to Play,
And marking how the Pool were crost and crost,
He must be padling too, and so was lost!
Shall I then smart if such an Oaf as This
Must have his Frolick, and succeeds amiss?
Hard Fate of Innocence! to bear the Blame
Of blackest Crimes, because too meek and tame!
Yet if your Lordships will my Counsel take,
The Foe shall feel, Wounded it can awake.
A Project I've conceiv'd, which if pursu'd
Infallibly roots out the dusky Brood.
Rang'd in a File, on some commodious Rise,
Wee'll watch their Troops, and to the Bank entice:
Then when their Onset they with Fury make,
Wheel off, and let 'em rush into the Lake:
[Page 12]Or, shou'd they halt in Rear, our Wings defil'd
Charge 'em behind, and drown each Mother's Child.
So shall one wavy Tomb the Herd embrace,
And with rich Trophees we the Conquest grace.
He say'd; but mist of the propos'd Event,
The conscious Fairies publish'd his Intent.
And now th' applauding Troglodytes adjourn
To seek what Armour best may serve the turn.
As round their little Alps I've often 'spy'd
Industrious Insects Aliment provide;
Here in stretch'd Mouth up steep unequal Ways
A single Slave a single Seed conveys.
There sable Troops confederating draw
One Grain of Wheat, or half an Inch of Straw.
With frugal Fervency the Work they press,
And baffle bleak December's near Distress.
Thus each brave Myrmidon designing Greaves,
Round his Supporters fibrous Mallows weaves.
Light Corslets broken Shells of Eggs afford,
And a tough springy Bulrush many a Sword.
For Targets empty Cockle-shells they found:
Their Heads high Periwinkle-Turbants crown'd.
Adorn'd, the buxom Champions take their Post,
A menacing, proud, formidable Host.
Observing Iove, by Maia's active Son
Summons the Gods: To Council-board they run,
[Page 13]Whence the pleas'd Thund'rer shews the comick Scene
Of the new War, and what the Rivals mean,
The Conduct of the Generals, and their Strength,
Th' Invention of their Lances, and their length,
And how the strutting Bands with Pride advanc'd,
As tow'rd the Foe the restiff Centaurs pranc'd.
Then jocundly enquir'd—
Say to which Int'rest, Gods, y'are most inclin'd,
Bogrill's or Pypick's: Freely tell your Mind.
Minerva, what say'st thou, my Wench, speak out—
Ha! which dost like, my Girl?—The Mice, no doubt,
The witty, wanton Mice—
With Aristippick Zeal and sly Design
Frisking and bustling round thy Silver Shrine,
'Till Victims broil and unctuous Odours mount;
Their Vigilance then turns to good Account.
No, my dread Sire, reply'd the martial Maid,
That sacrilegious Crew I'll never aid.
Prophane Poultrons! that all my Garlands spoil,
Steal to my Lamps, and lap away my Oil.
What strange, malicious Tricks, each Hour they play
'Twere tedious to relate. But t'other Day
Upon my Tissue-Vest by Hands divine
Embroider'd, did the hungry Caitiffs dine.
The Mercer (for my Priest had tick'd for Silk)
Duns as he were to break, and smells a Bilk.
Nor shall my Succour to the Frogs be lent,
The filthy Spawn of Nature's Excrement,
[Page 14]A lowd, unfashion'd Species: Nay (t'evince
How just my Accusation) four Days since
Spent with the Trade of War, and in pursuit
Of gentle Morpheus for a kind recruit,
I lay'd me down upon an Oozy-bed,
When presently came droaning round my Head
Ten thousand Skip-jacks, and 'till Night's dull shade
Gave place to Day, renew'd their Serenade.
The silent Pow'r, obnoxious to Surprize,
Abhorr'd the Din, and fled my wishing Eyes.
Impartialy let's all th' Event attend,
And neither Faction worry or befriend.
There's Danger in th' Engagement, for who knows
But shou'd the 'Squires once come to Handy-Blows,
Rough Mars agen might from a mortal Arm
Receive a pungent, rude, opprobrious Harm,
And Cytherea's Hand forfeit another Charm?
Supinely rather and unmov'd survey
The various Feats and Fortune of the Day.
Thus She: The merry Pow'rs th' Advice approve,
And all to advantageous Posts remove.

CANTO III.

FOrth from each Camp two stalking Heralds came,
The near approach of Battle to proclaim.
Behind shrill Hornets, musical and large,
Tumultuous Clangors mingling sound the Charge:
While Saturn's Son their Arms to dignify
Rowls ominous Thunder through the ratling Sky.
First fell gigantick Crambeef in the Van,
A daring Chief, his length near half a Span,
Struck by a Lance from Gabberillo sent;
It pierc'd his Paunch and through the Liver went.
The Champion's Fall resounding Earth bespeaks,
And clotted Dust deforms his grov'ling Cheeks.
Rough Skulk a Jav'lin next at Bungy threw,
Hissing it pass'd, and through his Corslet flew:
Down, down he sinks; his eager Heart transfix'd
Spews out sweet Life with purple Oceans mixt.
At old Lapcustard Grub a Shaft let fly,
Which glancing through his Temples reach'd his Eye:
An easy Conquest instant Fate obtain'd,
And clos'd the Luminary that remain'd.
At bulky Groggle fierce Bisketto cast
A Spear, which singing int' his Garbage past.
[Page 16]He grunts not long nor welters in his Gore,
E'r his griev'd Soul finds out the new-made Door.
No sooner Bogrill had the Loss beheld,
But black Revenge his angry Bosom swell'd.
Collecting all his Force, and straining oft
The Monarch brandish'd with his Arms aloft
A wild, unhandy, ragged Peble-stone,
Which crushing Sculk athwart the Shoulder-bone,
Scarce left him a Reprieve to fetch a Groan.
His Son black Carrotscoop at Bogrill's Groin
Enrag'd took aim, nor mist of his Design.
No sooner the Disaster Wamble knew,
But to the Water parrying he withdrew,
While Carrotscroop prest on, 'till Wamble reels
Into the Ditch, and pulls him in by th' Heels.
Immerst their Blows the hardy Champions ply,
And Stripes of Crimson the Maeotis dye,
'Till truss'd along the Margin of the Flood
Lay Wamble, and the Mousling in the Mud.
So when young Spaniel sent by clam'rous Boys
A rough Athenian Fowl in Pond annoys,
The Philosophick Bird with Beak and Claw
Returns his keen Salutes of Tooth and Paw.
Now yelping Pups prevails, now hooting Madge,
And Plumes and curling Locks bestrow the liquid Stage.
Poppin at further distance from the Brook,
Assail'd sage Butterbeard and Pris'ner took.
[Page 17]Sleek Gobbletart engag'd stout Specklebum,
But Speckle left his Shield and off he swum.
Morasse discharg'd a Slat, and with the stroak
Mump's Neck most diomedicaly broke.
From both his Nostrils mucous Brain distill'd,
And blended with black Gore enrich'd the barren Field.
Wallow from Tallowlick receiv'd a Wound,
The Pike o'rturning fix him to the Ground.
On Egdrain then disturb'd Treadwavio flew,
Tripp'd up his Heels, and into Puddle drew,
There by main Strength he held the Pilf'rer down,
Insulting thus, Drown, rav'nous Monster, drown:
Since you're so good at sucking, call me Fool
If I don't give you now your Belly-full,
And dows'd him headlong down to Phlegeton.
But Pypick, now his dearest Friends were gone,
Driv'n by Revenge and rash Despair along,
As when Convulsions make a Patient strong,
Up to majestick Ambergillo made,
In the proud Croaker sheath'd his wreathing Blade,
And forc'd him through th' Infernal Mote to wade.
Soon as Codrillo the Disaster 'spy'd,
Grasping soft Clay and something soft beside,
The mellow Shot on Pypick he conferr'd,
Bung'd up his Eyes, and damnify'd his Beard.
Transported by fresh Injuries the King
Grop'd out a Stone, and with a veh'ment Spring
Against Codrillo sent, a rocky Stone,
Fit for a Pigmy-Leader to have thrown.
[Page 18] Codrillo's Ankles felt the batt'ring Mass,
And groaning hoarse he dropt into the Grass.
Duke Dabble brook'd not this unnat'ral Deed,
But fiercely brandishing his pointed Reed,
Inch-deep into the Cawl his Highness struck,
And with the Lance drew out Imperial Pluck.
Grave Brewis on a verdant Ridge reclin'd
To sooth his Wounds, felt greater in his Mind.
The mangled Monarch much his Sight offends,
And rather than be butcher'd like his Friends,
Into the Dike he chearfully descends.
Old Snapcrust, as gay Bogrill vaunting stood,
Wounded his Foot: The Boaster saw the Blood,
Perceiv'd the Smart, and took in hast the Flood.
Snapcrust precipitantly to pursue
Th' unfinish'd Work of Death e'en stept in too.
Stern Didap, when he saw the King distrest,
Through the wild Tumult of the Battle prest,
And tost his taper Weapon, though in vain;
The sounding Target sent it back again.
But none of the Pypickians might compare
For Backsword or Sasa with Scamblefare,
Undaunted Scamblefare the dear Delight
Of surly Mars, and Son to Gristlebite.
Boasting he stemm'd the War's impetuous Tide,
Prevailing more than all the Mice beside.
On the rais'd Bank he struts: Thence threat'ning lowd
Portends Excision to the croaking Crowd:
And had much more than menac'd (for his Word
Was ne'r too big or little for his Sword)
[Page 19]But Heav'n's grand Sov'reign saw the coming Stroak,
And melting into Pitty Silence broke,
With solemn Nod: See there, ye Gods, see there
Th' attempts of bloody-minded Scamblefare!
Minerva—Mars—stoop with a rapid Flight,
And drive the fell Insulter from the Fight!
Thus Iove: To whom the God of Arms, Not I,
Nor She, nor all our Peers throughout the Sky
Can aid the Frogs: However we may try.
If our Joint-Pow'rs the Mischief cann't remove,
Still our Benignity we shall approve—
Or what if downward you a Bolt shou'd dart,
A sputt'ring Bolt forg'd with laborious Art?
Such as on Phlaegra's execrable Plain
Besieg'd your vext Divinity did rain,
When the tall Brood which Earth's damp Cayerns bore,
You riveted to Mountains whence their Arms they tore.
He say'd. The Son of Saturn rising hurl'd
A Lemnian Shaft, and stunn'd the upper World.
Down from the rocking Orbs the Tempest came,
Usher'd by Preludes of diffusive Flame.
At first both Armies fear: Yet this Device
Affrights not from Hostilities the Mice,
The Froggish Name t' extinguish boldly bent,
But squeamish Iove averse to their Intent,
Puissant Succours to the Buff-coats lent.
Deform'd, ungainly, awkward, sideling Sholes,
Testaceous Tenants of the slimy Holes,
Waving four slender Feet on either side,
With jetty Claws and rocky Shoulders wide:
[Page 20]Their Backs in form of Snushbox-covers made,
And on their Chests Ebony Eyes inlaid,
Hight Crabs, whose worse than Cornish Gripes alarm
The Mice, and bite away Leg, Tail, and Arm.
Soon cool'd this grisly Pest their active Heat,
And in Disorder forc'd 'em to retreat.
Thus that Campaign which with the Day begun,
Clos'd at the late Immersion of the Sun.

Advertisement.

SIx Philosophical Essays upon several Subjects, viz. Con­cerning 1. Dr. Burnet's Theory of the Earth. 2. Wit and Beauty. 3. A Publick Spirit. 4. The We [...]ther. 5. The Certainty of Things, and the Existence of a Deity. 6. The Cartesian Idea of God. By Samuel Parker, Gent. of Trinity-College in Oxford. Printed for Tho. Newborough, at the Golden Ball in St. Paul's Church-yard.

This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Text Creation Partnership. This Phase I text is available for reuse, according to the terms of Creative Commons 0 1.0 Universal. The text can be copied, modified, distributed and performed, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission.