Βατραχομυομαχία:
OR,
The Battell betweene Frogs and Mice.
Ye thrice three daughters of immortal Iove,
Bœotian nymphs of Helicons sweet spring,
Bright lamps of honor shining from above,
Where stil ye sit secure from envies sting,
Guiding the sterne of learnings sacred lore,
Vouchsafe to guide my pen, I you implore;
Your sweet consent conform my tender brest,
While I adorne my verse, as likes you best.
Bœotian nymphs of Helicons sweet spring,
Bright lamps of honor shining from above,
Where stil ye sit secure from envies sting,
Guiding the sterne of learnings sacred lore,
Vouchsafe to guide my pen, I you implore;
Your sweet consent conform my tender brest,
While I adorne my verse, as likes you best.
Deigne from your pleasant fountains of delight,
And ever-running Rivers of true skill,
Now to infuse sweet drops into my spright,
And heav'nly Nectar on my plants distill:
That they may grow like Bay, which ever springs,
To bud the battels of two mighty Kings,
And all the world may know how strife did rise,
Betweene renowned Frogs and gallant Mise.
And ever-running Rivers of true skill,
Now to infuse sweet drops into my spright,
And heav'nly Nectar on my plants distill:
That they may grow like Bay, which ever springs,
To bud the battels of two mighty Kings,
And all the world may know how strife did rise,
Betweene renowned Frogs and gallant Mise.
The antique deeds which wanton Ovid told,
To be perform'd by Gyants long agone,
When mighty hils together they inrold,
Thinking to pull the Thundrer from his throne,
Compared to these battels cannot be,
"No more then brambles to the Cædar tree,
"Whose lofty top dare check the heav'ns faire eye,
"When at midday he sits in majestie.
To be perform'd by Gyants long agone,
When mighty hils together they inrold,
Thinking to pull the Thundrer from his throne,
Compared to these battels cannot be,
"No more then brambles to the Cædar tree,
"Whose lofty top dare check the heav'ns faire eye,
"When at midday he sits in majestie.
