Homer in a Nutshell, or, His War Between the Frogs and the Mice (Parker)/Canto 2

by Homer

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.

$\scriptstyle {\left.{\begin{matrix}\ \\\\\ \ \end{matrix}}\right\}\,}$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.
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,
$\scriptstyle {\left.{\begin{matrix}\ \\\\\ \ \end{matrix}}\right\}\,}$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,
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:
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 Jove, by Maia's active Son
Summons the Gods: To Council-board they run,
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,
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,
$\scriptstyle {\left.{\begin{matrix}\ \\\\\ \ \end{matrix}}\right\}\,}$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.