or the Battle of the FROGS and MICE.
5
And how Physignathus his Way pursu'd:But when he felt the Waves with secret DreadTo roar, and foam, and thunder o'er his Head,He rent his Hair, and curst his hapless Fate;He blam'd his Folly, but alas! too late.Close were his Feet contracted to his Breast;Grief and Despair his lab'ring Thoughts opprest:He strove to see the Shore, but strove in vain;Deeply he sigh'd; his Sighing told his Pain;Help he had none, but what his Tail supply'd,To stem the Fury of the raging Tide;That was his Oar, and That he hop'd would saveHis rescu'd Body from the liquid Grave.Nor did he cease to call on Heav'n for Aid;Till interrupted by the Flood he said:Not thus the Bull in former Ages boreHis beauteous [1]Mistress to the Cretan Shore;As this dissembling, hateful Frog conveysMy wretched Weight through the resounding Seas.
- ↑ Europa.
Scarce
