Translations from Homer/Battle of the Frogs and Mice
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For works with similar titles, see Batrachomyomachia.
BATTLE OF THE FROGS AND MICE.
NAMES OF THE FROGS AND MICE.
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FROGS. MUD-LARK.
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MICE. CRUNCH-CRUST.
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BATTLE OF THE FROGS AND MICE.
[Ex edit. Frid. August, Wolf. Halæ, Saxon, 1784]
E la terra se scosse e l'ampio seno
De l'oceano a suoi divini accenti,
Ei cominciò dal di che fu ripieno
Di topi il mondo e di ranocchi spenti.
Tassoni, Secchia Rapita, c. ii, s. 43.
De l'oceano a suoi divini accenti,
Ei cominciò dal di che fu ripieno
Di topi il mondo e di ranocchi spenti.
Tassoni, Secchia Rapita, c. ii, s. 43.
And the earth trembled, and the boundless breast
Of ocean at his accents' heavenly tone,
Beginning from that day, when Mice unblest
And Frogs in death through all the world were strown.
Of ocean at his accents' heavenly tone,
Beginning from that day, when Mice unblest
And Frogs in death through all the world were strown.
Awake my song1,—and ye, sweet minstrels, won
By holiest prayer, oh! leave your Helicon—
I woo ye to my heart,—and bless the strain
Trac'd on the tablets that these knees sustain.
—For wild the deeds, and fearful they record,
—Death's iron din and war's relentless lord,—
Then, on the ear of nations far away,
Thunder the tale—how erst, in mail'd array,
'Gainst legion'd Frogs the Mice triumphant stood,
And shamed in might the giants' earth-born brood2;
Ev'n as among mankind the legend ran
From age to age—'twas thus the feud began.
A mouse erewhile worn down with thirst and spent,
Scantly by claw of stern grimalkin shent,
A neighbouring marish sought, and bath'd therein,
Joy'd by the honied wave, his down-clad chin:
Him straight descried the Beauty of the Lake,
Chieftain far heralded, and thus he spake:
"Who art thou, friend? whence bound for this lone shore?
What sire begat thee, and what mother bore3?
Tell all and truly tell, for should we find
In thee a comrade meet and to our mind,
Straight will we lead thee to our halls of state,
And load our guest with costly gifts and great.
King Puff-chops we—beside yon lake ador'd,
For many a day, the frogs' imperial lord!
Mud-lark our sire—on Po's sweet margent green
He wooed and won the tuneful Water-queen.
Thee too we ken in mould a mouse of might,
A sceptred king, a champion in the fight,
Haste then thy lineage tell."—
—Him answered straight
Crumb-catch, and said,
"Why seek my lineage, mate?
'Tis known to all, to men, to gods on high,
To fowls of heaven, great Crumb-catch hight am I:
Crunch-crust my large-soul'd sire, the nymph that bare
(Lick-millia, king Chaw-bacon's daughter fair),
Bare in a safe, and fed on daintiest meat,
Figs, nuts, and comfits, sweetest of the sweet.
—But how be guests?—our natures differ wide—
Past is thy life beneath the rippling tide,
While wont am I to nibble in a trice,
Earth's treasured fruits, and all that man holds nice.
Nor shuns my searching ken the wheat-loaf, made
Of finest flour, in shapely basket laid,
Nor spreading tartlet stor'd with juiciest jam,
White-kirtled liver, slice of savoury ham,
Nor freshest cheese from milk delicious prest,
Nor honied cake, the banquets of the blest!
Nor aught by cooks to grace rich revels wrought,
When with each sauce the full tureens are fraught.
Ne'er yet from battle's withering shout I fled4,
But on,—and mingled where the vanmost bled:
From man—albeit huge-limbed—I shrink not back,
But hie to bed, his finger-ends attack,
Or eke his toe,—meanwhile the dreamy wight
Unharass'd sleeps, tho' tooth and nail I bite.
But ah! at every step I dread these twain,
Night owl and cat—they work me mickle bane,
And gin accurst, within whose tempting bait,
Lurks darkest guile and lures me to my fate;
—Grimalkin most I dread, and from my soul—
Worst plague, she nabs me worming thro' a hole.
Radish I loathe, nor kail nor pumpkins eat,
Nor parsley love, nor banquet on fresh beet,
For these your dainties are beneath yon lake."—
—Smiling hereat, in answer Puff-chops spake:
"Too belly-vaunting friend art thou, we too
On land and lake a thousand wonders view;
For Jove to us a twofold being gave,
On land to skip, and dive amid the wave.
Wouldst thou assurance full?—the proof is light—
Mount on my back, and grasp with all thy might,
Grasp for thy life—and thus in gleeful hour
Thy step shall pass the threshold of my bower."
This said, his back he leant;—sir Mouse upsprung
With airy leap, and round his plump neck clung,
The shore in sight, he laugh'd for very glee,
Elate with Puff-chops' reckless buoyancy:
But when the dark wave gurgled o'er his head,
When terror wildly whispered—"hope is fled"—
Forth gush'd the fruitless tear, he rent his hair,
And wedged his feet with all thy strength, Despair;
"Strange sight," he shriek'd, and then his heart 'gan reel,
"Oh that these paws one foot of earth could feel!"
He groan'd, he groan'd, in chilly fear's constraint,
When lo! a sight at which the staunchest faint,—
Vision of dread to both! along the lake
Loom'd large with towering neck, a water-snake;
Him Puff-chops saw and plunged, nor stay'd to think
On helpless comrade left alone to sink,
Down the dark depths of water far beneath
He plunged amain, and 'scap'd the night of death.
Straight on the water flat poor Crumb-catch falls,
Wrings his gaunt paws, and, drowning, shrieks and squalls;
Oft down the wave he sank, and oft anon
Struggling uprose;—but Death would not be done.
His tail spread outward like an oar he plied
And while, "ye gods! oh! land me, land," he cried
A swart wave swamp'd him;—blustering, bluff, and stout,
At length he spake, and thus his tongue slack'd out:
"Not thus, not thus, the bull his love-freight bore,
With fair Europa bound for Crete's far shore:
Oh! would to heaven that on his back, the frog
Had ne'er up-perch'd my shivering frame—the dog!"
Dank grew his locks, beneath their dragging weight
He droop'd, thus muttering in the grasp of fate:
"Puff-chops, thy guile is registered—the shock
That hurl'd me from thee, wreck'd as from a rock.—
Caitiff! on land I am thy better far,
To cuff and kick, to wrestle, run, and spar5,
But no—by craft thou'st drown'd me in the deep;
Yet ne'er doth heaven's avenging eyeball sleep:—
Ev'n now the embattled war-mice bless mine eye,
Blood calls for blood, and Puff-chops' hour is nigh!"
He spake, and gasping mid the waters sank,
When Lick-dish, couch'd upon the mossy bank,
Espied his fate, and wildly wailing ran
Fraught with the tidings to the whiskered clan.
But when his fate they knew, from every eye
Flash'd fiercest wrath—then rose the gathering cry,
By hurrying heralds bruited wide, for all
At morn to muster in Crunch-crusto's hall:
Sire of poor Crumb-catch he,—whose clay-cold form,
Bleach'd by the wave and wasted by the storm,
Nestling no more upon the bank's green pillow,
Lay rock'd and rolling on the deep-sea billow6.
Red rose the dawn:—with martial clank and din
All breathless troop'd the fiery squadrons in,
And throng'd the place of tryst:—to them upstood
Fierce Crunch-crust, thirsting for the murderer's blood,
And spake;—"Albeit, my friends, the pangs I feel,
Leech may not soothe, nor hand of time can heal,
Yet deem not mine alone the cup of gall,
Wrought by yon Frogs, one doom awaits ye all;
—The dregs 'tis mine to drain—for death hath torn
From me three gallant bairns7, the eldest born
Did fell Grimalkin clutch—unhappy soul!
Heedless of death and venturing from his hole;
The next did heartless hinds to death entice,
With fangled craft and den of quaint device
Yclep'd 'a trap'—the barathron of mice.
The third, my best beloved, his mother's joy,
Hath Puff-chops lur'd, and drown'd my princely boy:
Uprise ye then, and don the arms of death8,—
Uprise and front them on the battle-heath!"—
He spake, and faithful to their lord's command
Harness'd and helm'd by war's grim god they stand.
With burnish'd cuishes first their thighs are graced
Wrought of split peascods and right deftly braced;
Stamping whereon, through all the watch of night,
Staunch had they toil'd, and mounch'd with all their might;
Each stout cuirass a reedy-quilted hide
(From fall'n Grimalkin rent) right well supplied:
Their shield—a cresset-boss, while, fierce and far,
Bodkins of brass—huge thunderbolts of war—
Their spear-staffs gleam'd;—on every brow was set
Smooth shell of nut, a steel-proof bassenet.
Thus stood the Mice for battle boune: but when
The Frogs discerned them, from their peopled fen
Outpouring toward a singled spot they ran,
Synod of death—and held their war divan.
While thus debating what the riot meant,
And whence the feud, came up a pursuivant,
Batôn in hand; Pot-pry the envoy's name,
August Cheese-scoopo's son—full fraught he came
With words of death:—
"Your wrath the Mice defy,
Assembled Frogs! their herald, lo! am I.
Then harness ye for fight,—for on the main,
These eyes beheld the noble Crumb-catch slain
By Puff-chops, traitor king:—then forth and fight,
All ye the fiercest of the Frogs in might."
His parle he ended:—at the haughty word
Tingled all ears, and every breast was stirr'd,
Ay—the stout Frogs were stricken: when their king
Uprose and spake, amid their murmuring:
"His death I wrought not, friends, nor, when he sank,
Did I behold him,—from the grassy bank
Springing unseen he met his righteous fate,
—A floating frog he fain must imitate—!
Guiltless albeit, and from the crime most free,
Me—they impeach, and cry revenge on—Me,
Brawlers accurst! then weave we deep device,
Foil trick with trick, and crush the traitor-mice.
But heed my words, for, as beseemeth best,
These lips shall speak, ay, heed your chief's behest;
Don we our mail of proof, and all take post
On land's last brink, where shelves sheer down the coast.
When on our ranks with onslaught wild they burst,
Grasp each his helmet whom you grapple first,
And fling amid the waves; then far below,
·Full fathom five,' fast lock in death the foe.
Unbuoyant herd! one plunge will them suffice,
One hearty plunge—then forth and in a trice
Raise we our trophy o'er the slaughtered Mice."
He spake, and all forthwith were arm'd; the greaves
That sheathed their shins were wrought of mallow-leaves;
Of fresh wide beet they wore their shirts of mail,
Their targets—fashion'd from the leaves of kail,
For lengthy lance a keen-tipt reed served well,
Fenced was each brow—its helm a cockle-shell:
Thus arm'd, along the towery cliffs they stood,
Shook their sharp spears and thirsted deep for blood.
But Jove, meanwhile, amid the starry skies
Convened the gods, and set before their eyes
The murderous mass of war—the warriors fierce,
A myriad host, and arm'd with mighty spears,—
(Not such their numbers, nor the host so dread,
By Centaur-chief or earthborn giant led9,)
Then smiling spake:—
"Who lends immortal aid
To Frogs or Mice?—I ween, my blue-eyed maid,
For daily service in thy temple paid,
Thou to the Mice—there one and all they skip,
Snuff the rich steam, and wet the whiskered lip10,"
Saturnius ceas'd: to whom his child:—"my sire,
Tho' death o'ertake them, and tho' labour tire,
Yon Mice I ne'er will aid—my wealth they spoil,
Rend my fair wreaths, and rob my lamps for oil.
But mark the deed that most distracts my soul—
Gnaw'd have the thieves and drill'd with many a hole
That robe, my daily task, my nightly care,
Wov'n of thin woof and threads more light than air;
While hourly, thus on miseries miseries mount,
Comes Botch and duns me for his small account.
Hence am I wroth—for, while I wove away,
On tick I went,—and now have nought to pay.
Yet deem not thus the Frogs shall boast mine aid,
Weak are their souls, unprincipled, unstaid,
For when, with battling bruised and worn with toil,
I woo'd the balm of sleep,—their wild turmoil
Scared every wink—with aching brows I lay,
And toss'd till Chanty piped the dawn of day.
Then cease we, gods, yon ruffians to assist,
Lest "one of us" fly wounded from the list,
For keen their brands, tho' gods their passage bar,—
Then cease we all, and watch from heaven the war."
She spake: the gods obey'd, and tarrying not,
Throng'd in a body to the appointed spot.
Forthwith from out the death-trump's thrilling throat,
Twang'd the smart gnats and peal'd the battle note;
While heaven's Arch-ruler, from the clouds afar,
Thunder'd amain and flash'd the sign of war11".
Lickero first, far flaming in the van,
Smote Croaker, night upon the spear-point ran.
Thro' yawning paunch, and wounded midriff thrust,
Headlong he fell, and darkened in the dust
His downy crest—he fell with dismal clang;
Loud on his corse his slackened harness rang.
Next did bold Hole-peep wound the son of Mud,
Fix'd in his breast the sturdy spear-staff stood:
He fell—death's iron bonds the chief enchain'd;
Forth flew the soul12, the clay-cold limbs remain'd.
Then thro' poor Pot-pry drove sir Beet his dart,
Thro' Beet great Tuck-loaf, swoln with rage at heart;
Then prince Bawlero thro' mid-paunch he cleft,
Prone fell the chief, the soul his carcase left.
But when fair Lake-love spied Bawlero's fate,
He battered Hole-peep with a millstone's weight
Full on the neck—dim shades his eyeballs seal;
Then at the slayer with his glittering steel
Lickero aim'd, the steel his life-blood drank;
The which when Champ-kail vision'd, from the bank
He sprang, and sought the shrouding waves,—in vain!
Lickero smites, he falls nor breathes again;
Red roll the waves in blood, his outstretch'd form
Pants on the beach all bleeding fresh and warm.
Then on the bank did Pool13 poor Cheese-scoop smite,
Then Rush Paw-bacon eyed, and winged his flight
Toward the blue lake, sans sense, sans shield he fled,
But Marsh-pride smote Gnaw-bacon on the head.
Ill-fortuned king! fierce dash'd the stone—his brain
Stream'd from his nose, and dyed with blood the plain.
Then by brave Bog-trot bit sir Plump the dust;
But Lick-dish straight his spear through Bog-trot thrust,
Night seal'd his eyelids: then, with desperate clench,
Snuff-steam—thy foot did grim Gnaw-garlic wrench,
Dragg'd to the pool, there diving far beneath,
Choked thee fast fettered in the grasp of death.
Next Crumb-catch, battling for his slaughtered friends,
His spear-point sheer thro' grim Gnaw-garlic sends,
Unlet it probes his rent heart's inmost core,
Forward he falls, his soul seeks death's dark shore.
Clod-hopper spied him, and a lump of dung
Presenting straight betwixt his eyeballs flung,
Half blind seized Crumb-catch, gored with wrath and pain,
A monstrous stone, the burden of the plain,
And smote therewith Clod-hopper's knee—to wrack
Went the right thigh, he tumbled on his back:
Hoarse-croak, his friend to shield, 'gainst Crumb-catch flew;
The sharpened rush-reed pierced his navel thro',
And delved deep deep within;—he hauls it out,
Forth thro' the rent his gushing entrails spout.
This Cram-cake sees from off the river-bank,
And halts from fight, his brow looks sorely blank,
Then leaps the fosse from death's fierce grasp to steal:
—Next Crunch-crust wounds sir Puff-chops on the heel;
With anguish maddened to the lake he flies,—
But when his panting frame Garleeko eyes,
Vanward he bursts, and hurls his whetted reed:
Stout stands the shield, and bars his spear-point's speed.
Supreme amid the Mouse clan was there one,
Palm of the host, the faultless Loaf-lurk's son:
A very Mars he flam'd, and Snap-scrap hight,
Prince of the Mice, their champion in the fight!
Full of fierce thoughts beside the lake he stood,
And doom'd destruction on the Frogs' fell brood,
Doom'd—and had well-nigh wrought, his might so vast,
When Parent-Jove his eye all-seeing cast
Fall on the fainting Frogs, and, touch'd with ruth,
Bow'd his dark brow and spake the word of truth:
"Woe worth the day! at yonder sickening sight
Ye gods! I faint, my spirit faints with fright14.
Mark where stark Snap-scrap stands beside yon stream,
How the Frogs tremble, as his eyeballs gleam!
Hence then let Pallas and the war god wend,
Hence—and from fight this stalwart champion rend."
Thus spake the son of Saturn: at the word
Mars straight replied, "My father and my lord,
Vain were Athena's might, mine own how vain,
From death to ward the Frogs' devoted train:
Forth to the rescue—all! the bolts of death,
—That quell'd the Titans with their fiery breath,
That dash'd to earth the gaunt Enceladus,
And earth's grim race15,—perchance will wake for us,
Then shall the stoutest fall!16" thus spake the god—
And Jove straight lanch'd the levin-bolt abroad:
Loud roar'd the pealing thunder, at the shock
Olympus reel'd, and bow'd his marble rock.
Forth flew the levin, Jove's appalling brand,
Flame-wing'd and eddying from his red right hand.
Fear walk'd the world, along each serried rank
All hearts throbb'd wildly, and each check grew blank.
Still nought the Mice recoil'd, but hardier yet
On the doom'd Frogs with gather'd wrath had set,
When Jove, in pity for their lost estate,
Sent a strange plague, that snatch'd them from their fate.
They came, unseen, their backs like anvils strong,
Curv'd, crook'd, and tortuous, sidled they along:
Hook'd were their beaks, their mouths stout pincers plied:
Bony their flesh, and wrought of shells their hide;
From their broad shoulders shot wild flashes out,
Bandied their shanks, their paws steel-nerved and stout:
Eyed in their breasts, upon eight feet they crawl,—
Twain were their heads, and handless were they all;
By men hight "crabs:"—they charged, and in a trice
Tweak'd by their tails their hands and feet the Mice;
Down went each ported spear, in withering dread
The pale Mice halted, trembled, turn'd, and fled17!
Ay! the Mice fled—and at the set of sun
'Twas silence all,—their one day war was done18.
By holiest prayer, oh! leave your Helicon—
I woo ye to my heart,—and bless the strain
Trac'd on the tablets that these knees sustain.
—For wild the deeds, and fearful they record,
—Death's iron din and war's relentless lord,—
Then, on the ear of nations far away,
Thunder the tale—how erst, in mail'd array,
'Gainst legion'd Frogs the Mice triumphant stood,
And shamed in might the giants' earth-born brood2;
Ev'n as among mankind the legend ran
From age to age—'twas thus the feud began.
A mouse erewhile worn down with thirst and spent,
Scantly by claw of stern grimalkin shent,
A neighbouring marish sought, and bath'd therein,
Joy'd by the honied wave, his down-clad chin:
Him straight descried the Beauty of the Lake,
Chieftain far heralded, and thus he spake:
"Who art thou, friend? whence bound for this lone shore?
What sire begat thee, and what mother bore3?
Tell all and truly tell, for should we find
In thee a comrade meet and to our mind,
Straight will we lead thee to our halls of state,
And load our guest with costly gifts and great.
King Puff-chops we—beside yon lake ador'd,
For many a day, the frogs' imperial lord!
Mud-lark our sire—on Po's sweet margent green
He wooed and won the tuneful Water-queen.
Thee too we ken in mould a mouse of might,
A sceptred king, a champion in the fight,
Haste then thy lineage tell."—
—Him answered straight
Crumb-catch, and said,
"Why seek my lineage, mate?
'Tis known to all, to men, to gods on high,
To fowls of heaven, great Crumb-catch hight am I:
Crunch-crust my large-soul'd sire, the nymph that bare
(Lick-millia, king Chaw-bacon's daughter fair),
Bare in a safe, and fed on daintiest meat,
Figs, nuts, and comfits, sweetest of the sweet.
—But how be guests?—our natures differ wide—
Past is thy life beneath the rippling tide,
While wont am I to nibble in a trice,
Earth's treasured fruits, and all that man holds nice.
Nor shuns my searching ken the wheat-loaf, made
Of finest flour, in shapely basket laid,
Nor spreading tartlet stor'd with juiciest jam,
White-kirtled liver, slice of savoury ham,
Nor freshest cheese from milk delicious prest,
Nor honied cake, the banquets of the blest!
Nor aught by cooks to grace rich revels wrought,
When with each sauce the full tureens are fraught.
Ne'er yet from battle's withering shout I fled4,
But on,—and mingled where the vanmost bled:
From man—albeit huge-limbed—I shrink not back,
But hie to bed, his finger-ends attack,
Or eke his toe,—meanwhile the dreamy wight
Unharass'd sleeps, tho' tooth and nail I bite.
But ah! at every step I dread these twain,
Night owl and cat—they work me mickle bane,
And gin accurst, within whose tempting bait,
Lurks darkest guile and lures me to my fate;
—Grimalkin most I dread, and from my soul—
Worst plague, she nabs me worming thro' a hole.
Radish I loathe, nor kail nor pumpkins eat,
Nor parsley love, nor banquet on fresh beet,
For these your dainties are beneath yon lake."—
—Smiling hereat, in answer Puff-chops spake:
"Too belly-vaunting friend art thou, we too
On land and lake a thousand wonders view;
For Jove to us a twofold being gave,
On land to skip, and dive amid the wave.
Wouldst thou assurance full?—the proof is light—
Mount on my back, and grasp with all thy might,
Grasp for thy life—and thus in gleeful hour
Thy step shall pass the threshold of my bower."
This said, his back he leant;—sir Mouse upsprung
With airy leap, and round his plump neck clung,
The shore in sight, he laugh'd for very glee,
Elate with Puff-chops' reckless buoyancy:
But when the dark wave gurgled o'er his head,
When terror wildly whispered—"hope is fled"—
Forth gush'd the fruitless tear, he rent his hair,
And wedged his feet with all thy strength, Despair;
"Strange sight," he shriek'd, and then his heart 'gan reel,
"Oh that these paws one foot of earth could feel!"
He groan'd, he groan'd, in chilly fear's constraint,
When lo! a sight at which the staunchest faint,—
Vision of dread to both! along the lake
Loom'd large with towering neck, a water-snake;
Him Puff-chops saw and plunged, nor stay'd to think
On helpless comrade left alone to sink,
Down the dark depths of water far beneath
He plunged amain, and 'scap'd the night of death.
Straight on the water flat poor Crumb-catch falls,
Wrings his gaunt paws, and, drowning, shrieks and squalls;
Oft down the wave he sank, and oft anon
Struggling uprose;—but Death would not be done.
His tail spread outward like an oar he plied
And while, "ye gods! oh! land me, land," he cried
A swart wave swamp'd him;—blustering, bluff, and stout,
At length he spake, and thus his tongue slack'd out:
"Not thus, not thus, the bull his love-freight bore,
With fair Europa bound for Crete's far shore:
Oh! would to heaven that on his back, the frog
Had ne'er up-perch'd my shivering frame—the dog!"
Dank grew his locks, beneath their dragging weight
He droop'd, thus muttering in the grasp of fate:
"Puff-chops, thy guile is registered—the shock
That hurl'd me from thee, wreck'd as from a rock.—
Caitiff! on land I am thy better far,
To cuff and kick, to wrestle, run, and spar5,
But no—by craft thou'st drown'd me in the deep;
Yet ne'er doth heaven's avenging eyeball sleep:—
Ev'n now the embattled war-mice bless mine eye,
Blood calls for blood, and Puff-chops' hour is nigh!"
He spake, and gasping mid the waters sank,
When Lick-dish, couch'd upon the mossy bank,
Espied his fate, and wildly wailing ran
Fraught with the tidings to the whiskered clan.
But when his fate they knew, from every eye
Flash'd fiercest wrath—then rose the gathering cry,
By hurrying heralds bruited wide, for all
At morn to muster in Crunch-crusto's hall:
Sire of poor Crumb-catch he,—whose clay-cold form,
Bleach'd by the wave and wasted by the storm,
Nestling no more upon the bank's green pillow,
Lay rock'd and rolling on the deep-sea billow6.
Red rose the dawn:—with martial clank and din
All breathless troop'd the fiery squadrons in,
And throng'd the place of tryst:—to them upstood
Fierce Crunch-crust, thirsting for the murderer's blood,
And spake;—"Albeit, my friends, the pangs I feel,
Leech may not soothe, nor hand of time can heal,
Yet deem not mine alone the cup of gall,
Wrought by yon Frogs, one doom awaits ye all;
—The dregs 'tis mine to drain—for death hath torn
From me three gallant bairns7, the eldest born
Did fell Grimalkin clutch—unhappy soul!
Heedless of death and venturing from his hole;
The next did heartless hinds to death entice,
With fangled craft and den of quaint device
Yclep'd 'a trap'—the barathron of mice.
The third, my best beloved, his mother's joy,
Hath Puff-chops lur'd, and drown'd my princely boy:
Uprise ye then, and don the arms of death8,—
Uprise and front them on the battle-heath!"—
He spake, and faithful to their lord's command
Harness'd and helm'd by war's grim god they stand.
With burnish'd cuishes first their thighs are graced
Wrought of split peascods and right deftly braced;
Stamping whereon, through all the watch of night,
Staunch had they toil'd, and mounch'd with all their might;
Each stout cuirass a reedy-quilted hide
(From fall'n Grimalkin rent) right well supplied:
Their shield—a cresset-boss, while, fierce and far,
Bodkins of brass—huge thunderbolts of war—
Their spear-staffs gleam'd;—on every brow was set
Smooth shell of nut, a steel-proof bassenet.
Thus stood the Mice for battle boune: but when
The Frogs discerned them, from their peopled fen
Outpouring toward a singled spot they ran,
Synod of death—and held their war divan.
While thus debating what the riot meant,
And whence the feud, came up a pursuivant,
Batôn in hand; Pot-pry the envoy's name,
August Cheese-scoopo's son—full fraught he came
With words of death:—
"Your wrath the Mice defy,
Assembled Frogs! their herald, lo! am I.
Then harness ye for fight,—for on the main,
These eyes beheld the noble Crumb-catch slain
By Puff-chops, traitor king:—then forth and fight,
All ye the fiercest of the Frogs in might."
His parle he ended:—at the haughty word
Tingled all ears, and every breast was stirr'd,
Ay—the stout Frogs were stricken: when their king
Uprose and spake, amid their murmuring:
"His death I wrought not, friends, nor, when he sank,
Did I behold him,—from the grassy bank
Springing unseen he met his righteous fate,
—A floating frog he fain must imitate—!
Guiltless albeit, and from the crime most free,
Me—they impeach, and cry revenge on—Me,
Brawlers accurst! then weave we deep device,
Foil trick with trick, and crush the traitor-mice.
But heed my words, for, as beseemeth best,
These lips shall speak, ay, heed your chief's behest;
Don we our mail of proof, and all take post
On land's last brink, where shelves sheer down the coast.
When on our ranks with onslaught wild they burst,
Grasp each his helmet whom you grapple first,
And fling amid the waves; then far below,
·Full fathom five,' fast lock in death the foe.
Unbuoyant herd! one plunge will them suffice,
One hearty plunge—then forth and in a trice
Raise we our trophy o'er the slaughtered Mice."
He spake, and all forthwith were arm'd; the greaves
That sheathed their shins were wrought of mallow-leaves;
Of fresh wide beet they wore their shirts of mail,
Their targets—fashion'd from the leaves of kail,
For lengthy lance a keen-tipt reed served well,
Fenced was each brow—its helm a cockle-shell:
Thus arm'd, along the towery cliffs they stood,
Shook their sharp spears and thirsted deep for blood.
But Jove, meanwhile, amid the starry skies
Convened the gods, and set before their eyes
The murderous mass of war—the warriors fierce,
A myriad host, and arm'd with mighty spears,—
(Not such their numbers, nor the host so dread,
By Centaur-chief or earthborn giant led9,)
Then smiling spake:—
"Who lends immortal aid
To Frogs or Mice?—I ween, my blue-eyed maid,
For daily service in thy temple paid,
Thou to the Mice—there one and all they skip,
Snuff the rich steam, and wet the whiskered lip10,"
Saturnius ceas'd: to whom his child:—"my sire,
Tho' death o'ertake them, and tho' labour tire,
Yon Mice I ne'er will aid—my wealth they spoil,
Rend my fair wreaths, and rob my lamps for oil.
But mark the deed that most distracts my soul—
Gnaw'd have the thieves and drill'd with many a hole
That robe, my daily task, my nightly care,
Wov'n of thin woof and threads more light than air;
While hourly, thus on miseries miseries mount,
Comes Botch and duns me for his small account.
Hence am I wroth—for, while I wove away,
On tick I went,—and now have nought to pay.
Yet deem not thus the Frogs shall boast mine aid,
Weak are their souls, unprincipled, unstaid,
For when, with battling bruised and worn with toil,
I woo'd the balm of sleep,—their wild turmoil
Scared every wink—with aching brows I lay,
And toss'd till Chanty piped the dawn of day.
Then cease we, gods, yon ruffians to assist,
Lest "one of us" fly wounded from the list,
For keen their brands, tho' gods their passage bar,—
Then cease we all, and watch from heaven the war."
She spake: the gods obey'd, and tarrying not,
Throng'd in a body to the appointed spot.
Forthwith from out the death-trump's thrilling throat,
Twang'd the smart gnats and peal'd the battle note;
While heaven's Arch-ruler, from the clouds afar,
Thunder'd amain and flash'd the sign of war11".
Lickero first, far flaming in the van,
Smote Croaker, night upon the spear-point ran.
Thro' yawning paunch, and wounded midriff thrust,
Headlong he fell, and darkened in the dust
His downy crest—he fell with dismal clang;
Loud on his corse his slackened harness rang.
Next did bold Hole-peep wound the son of Mud,
Fix'd in his breast the sturdy spear-staff stood:
He fell—death's iron bonds the chief enchain'd;
Forth flew the soul12, the clay-cold limbs remain'd.
Then thro' poor Pot-pry drove sir Beet his dart,
Thro' Beet great Tuck-loaf, swoln with rage at heart;
Then prince Bawlero thro' mid-paunch he cleft,
Prone fell the chief, the soul his carcase left.
But when fair Lake-love spied Bawlero's fate,
He battered Hole-peep with a millstone's weight
Full on the neck—dim shades his eyeballs seal;
Then at the slayer with his glittering steel
Lickero aim'd, the steel his life-blood drank;
The which when Champ-kail vision'd, from the bank
He sprang, and sought the shrouding waves,—in vain!
Lickero smites, he falls nor breathes again;
Red roll the waves in blood, his outstretch'd form
Pants on the beach all bleeding fresh and warm.
Then on the bank did Pool13 poor Cheese-scoop smite,
Then Rush Paw-bacon eyed, and winged his flight
Toward the blue lake, sans sense, sans shield he fled,
But Marsh-pride smote Gnaw-bacon on the head.
Ill-fortuned king! fierce dash'd the stone—his brain
Stream'd from his nose, and dyed with blood the plain.
Then by brave Bog-trot bit sir Plump the dust;
But Lick-dish straight his spear through Bog-trot thrust,
Night seal'd his eyelids: then, with desperate clench,
Snuff-steam—thy foot did grim Gnaw-garlic wrench,
Dragg'd to the pool, there diving far beneath,
Choked thee fast fettered in the grasp of death.
Next Crumb-catch, battling for his slaughtered friends,
His spear-point sheer thro' grim Gnaw-garlic sends,
Unlet it probes his rent heart's inmost core,
Forward he falls, his soul seeks death's dark shore.
Clod-hopper spied him, and a lump of dung
Presenting straight betwixt his eyeballs flung,
Half blind seized Crumb-catch, gored with wrath and pain,
A monstrous stone, the burden of the plain,
And smote therewith Clod-hopper's knee—to wrack
Went the right thigh, he tumbled on his back:
Hoarse-croak, his friend to shield, 'gainst Crumb-catch flew;
The sharpened rush-reed pierced his navel thro',
And delved deep deep within;—he hauls it out,
Forth thro' the rent his gushing entrails spout.
This Cram-cake sees from off the river-bank,
And halts from fight, his brow looks sorely blank,
Then leaps the fosse from death's fierce grasp to steal:
—Next Crunch-crust wounds sir Puff-chops on the heel;
With anguish maddened to the lake he flies,—
But when his panting frame Garleeko eyes,
Vanward he bursts, and hurls his whetted reed:
Stout stands the shield, and bars his spear-point's speed.
Supreme amid the Mouse clan was there one,
Palm of the host, the faultless Loaf-lurk's son:
A very Mars he flam'd, and Snap-scrap hight,
Prince of the Mice, their champion in the fight!
Full of fierce thoughts beside the lake he stood,
And doom'd destruction on the Frogs' fell brood,
Doom'd—and had well-nigh wrought, his might so vast,
When Parent-Jove his eye all-seeing cast
Fall on the fainting Frogs, and, touch'd with ruth,
Bow'd his dark brow and spake the word of truth:
"Woe worth the day! at yonder sickening sight
Ye gods! I faint, my spirit faints with fright14.
Mark where stark Snap-scrap stands beside yon stream,
How the Frogs tremble, as his eyeballs gleam!
Hence then let Pallas and the war god wend,
Hence—and from fight this stalwart champion rend."
Thus spake the son of Saturn: at the word
Mars straight replied, "My father and my lord,
Vain were Athena's might, mine own how vain,
From death to ward the Frogs' devoted train:
Forth to the rescue—all! the bolts of death,
—That quell'd the Titans with their fiery breath,
That dash'd to earth the gaunt Enceladus,
And earth's grim race15,—perchance will wake for us,
Then shall the stoutest fall!16" thus spake the god—
And Jove straight lanch'd the levin-bolt abroad:
Loud roar'd the pealing thunder, at the shock
Olympus reel'd, and bow'd his marble rock.
Forth flew the levin, Jove's appalling brand,
Flame-wing'd and eddying from his red right hand.
Fear walk'd the world, along each serried rank
All hearts throbb'd wildly, and each check grew blank.
Still nought the Mice recoil'd, but hardier yet
On the doom'd Frogs with gather'd wrath had set,
When Jove, in pity for their lost estate,
Sent a strange plague, that snatch'd them from their fate.
They came, unseen, their backs like anvils strong,
Curv'd, crook'd, and tortuous, sidled they along:
Hook'd were their beaks, their mouths stout pincers plied:
Bony their flesh, and wrought of shells their hide;
From their broad shoulders shot wild flashes out,
Bandied their shanks, their paws steel-nerved and stout:
Eyed in their breasts, upon eight feet they crawl,—
Twain were their heads, and handless were they all;
By men hight "crabs:"—they charged, and in a trice
Tweak'd by their tails their hands and feet the Mice;
Down went each ported spear, in withering dread
The pale Mice halted, trembled, turn'd, and fled17!
Ay! the Mice fled—and at the set of sun
'Twas silence all,—their one day war was done18.