12
HOMER in a Nutshell.
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.
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.
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.
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,
Summons the Gods: To Council-board they run,
Whence
