D D D▪

THE FROG, OR, The Low-Countrey NIGHTINGALE, Sweet Singer of AMSTERDAM.

THE OLD EXCHANGE TO THE NEW STAT-HOUSE, Hoping fair Acceptance, a Speedy and handsome Return, This true FABLE DEDICATES.

OF THE FROGS Fearing the SƲN should Marry.

LOw-Countrey Provinces, United Bogs,
Once distrest States, now Hogen Mogen Frogs;
Royal and Noble Interest gone, Com­mand,
Grown formidable both at Sea and Land:
Who but a Century of years before
Dabbled in Fishing, despicably Poor,
In seamless Vessels, Troughs, cut out of Logs,
Catch'd Whiting-Mops; now Gogs and Gogmagogs,
In stately Pines new Constellations raise,
Ploughing up Billows two and thirty ways;
Through boyling Brine, through Cakes of crusted Ice,
For Gold and Silver, Ivory, Oyl, and Spice;
What Straights, Gulphs, trending Bays, spare they to pierce,
By Water to take in the Universe?
Are they with Force not able to invade?
No matter; They'l undo the World by Trade:
Four Frogs, two Tod-pols, and one greasy Toad,
Deep freighted Bottoms bear from Road to Road.
Whom now a consternating Panick Fear
Dejected much: The Sun will wed they hear;
The News from India, worse than Plague or War,
Brought and attested by the Blazing Star.
To Pigmy Inches these Gygantick Frogs,
Pale Terror, shrunk: Summon'd from all the Bogs,
Hopping or crawling they in Clusters came
Up to their Prime Morrass, their greatest Damm.
There the new State-house stands, built fair and large,
For their own Profit, but the Peoples Charge;
Where they on all Emergencies of State,
Or Private business, in Convention sate:
No Portico this Modern Building fac'd,
Within no antient Princes figures grac'd;
Nor Grandsires with their Nets, such were too Poor
To stand with Besoms there behind the Door,
Who for their own Good-Old-Cause Martyrs dy'd
By Hemp, or by more zealous Fagots try'd.
But Gods and Goddesses in Marble Carv'd,
Or finely Painted, which the Heathen serv'd,
In all the Nieches, each convenient Place
In Stone or Tables the fair Structure grace;
But yet for all their Skill, these Belgick Toads
Made Ʋpsie-Dutch Heroes and Grecian Gods.
Early this day assembled Old and Young
The Damm they cover, and the State-house throng;
Silence commanded, not one whispering Croak,
An old Sag-bellied Toad rising, thus spoke:
Grave Hogen Mogens, High and Mighty Frogs!
Whose Care and Prudence fertiliz'd these Bogs,
And so improv'd these your United States,
Princes to Beard, and be with Kings Cope-Mates;
Though we from Mushroms sprung, and Spawn of Toads,
Like Palaces are now our fair Aboads;
When through brack Waters, and a salt Morrass,
We in cut Trenches safe at pleasure pass,
From Damm to Damm, and time with Talk beguile,
Our selves and goods landing 'thout Care or Toyl;
From which new Water-works more Rent you raise,
Than from rank Acres, where fat Oxen grase.
But what of these Improvements will become?
The Sun will Wed, and Nuptials keep at Home;
Whom Laws of Gods and Men allow a year
From War or Travel, with his fair Compeer;
His Absence will our Marshes in a trice
To Crystal turn, a never-thawing Ice.
Or should we scape such a continued Frost
As guirdles up nine Months the Artick Coast,
His teeming Spouse may yet produce a Son,
Shall quite out of the beaten Zodiack run,
So un-experienc'd drive his Father's Chair,
That soon to Fire he'll rarefie the Air,
Water and Earth to Dust and Ashes turn,
And all in one new Conflagration burn.
They tell how Phaeton our ample Bogs
To Jelly boyl'd; stew'd Tod-pols, Toads, and Frogs
In one Potage, and Pluto gave, who swore
He never tasted Broth so Rich before.
Many such Yonkers may spring from his Loyns,
And share his Houses twelve Celestial Signs;
And they may Wed, have Sons, and Daughters too:
What in this Imminent Danger shall we do!
To what Protector shall we make address?
All know that Neptune this concerns no less;
Such drinking Suns may at one meeting Quaff,
If he had twenty Plumbless Oceans, off.
Him to implore lay by next Sabbath day,
We're no such Jews nor Christians but we may:
He heard us lately, when a swelling Tide
Imbodied, threaten'd o'r our Tow'rs to ride;
And soon as mov'd, with his great Trident came,
Beats off green Reg'ments storm'd our yielding Dam;
Which had they batter'd but nine Inches higher,
We had not liv'd, ruin to fear by Fire.
This said, Oh wondrous! the Foundations quake,
And the stiff Idols, fixt in Marble, shake;
When Neptune, where he did in Triumph ride,
On a rich Shell, his Cheeks fresh Sanguine dy'd,
His Trident waving then with Arms displai'd,
Thus to the great Convention, wondring, said;
Batavian Frogs, advanc'd by my sole Power,
Whom Jove first planted from a Thunder shower,
Fear not the Sun, nor at his Of-spring shake:
To the last drop I'll drain my ample Lake,
My watery Kingdoms Laver into Suds,
To quench their Torches; to the Stygian Floods
I'll Titan send, and all his fiery Tits,
To light their Lamps, and to regain their Wits.
Lay idle Fears aside, he'll never Wed,
Nor plant a Female in a flaming Bed.
Suspect no Conflagrations from the East;
But a new Sun now rising in the West;
His Flames beware, make Peace, or Arm with speed;
You more then all the Elements will need:
Call our Supernal, Call th' Infernal List,
Both Gods and Fiends too weak are to resist:
He threatens my large Arms to bind in Chains,
And now at Home a second Neptune reigns;
Who three great Nations swaies, and two fair Isles,
His People Ruler of the Ocean stiles.
This said, their God grows pale, Limbs stiff and cold,
Trembling with Fear, shrunk in their Marble Mold.
Princes beware to aid a growing State,
Lest they be first that give you the Check-Mate.
Wealth and Success turns Humbleness to Pride:
Beggars on Hors-back to the Devil ride.

This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Text Creation Partnership. Searching, reading, printing, or downloading EEBO-TCP texts is reserved for the authorized users of these project partner institutions. Permission must be granted for subsequent distribution, in print or electronically, of this EEBO-TCP Phase II text, in whole or in part.