ΒΑΤΡΑΧΟΜΥΟΜΑΧΙΑ.
11
To let me haue the mantle to restore.
And this is it, that rubs the angrie sore
Of my offence tooke, at these petulant Mise.
Nor will I yeeld, the Froggs wants, my supplies,
For their infirme mindes; that no confines keepe;
For I, from warre retir'd; and wanting sleepe;
All lept ashore in tumult; nor would staie
Till one winck seas'd myne eyes: and so I laie
Sleeplesse, and pain'de with headach; till first light
The Cock had crow'd vp. Therefore, to the fight
Let no God goe assistent; lest a lance
Wound whosoeuer offers to aduance;
Or wishes but their aid; that skorne all foes;
Should any Gods accesse, their spirits oppose.
Sit we then pleas'd, to see from heauen, their fight.
She said; and all Gods ioin'd in her delight.
And now, both Hosts, to one field drew the iarre;
Both Heralds bearing the ostents of warre.
And then the [1]wine-Gnats, that shrill Trumpets sound
Terriblie rung out, the encounter, round.
Ioue thundred; all heauen, sad warrs signe resounded.
And first, [2]Hypsiboas,[3]Lychenor wounded,
Standing th'impression of the first in fight.
His lance did, in his Lyuers midsts alight,
Along his bellie. Downe he fell; his face,
His fall on that part swaid; and all the grace
Of his soft hayre, fil'd with disgracefull dust.
Then [4]Troglodytes, his thick iaueline thrust
And this is it, that rubs the angrie sore
Of my offence tooke, at these petulant Mise.
Nor will I yeeld, the Froggs wants, my supplies,
For their infirme mindes; that no confines keepe;
For I, from warre retir'd; and wanting sleepe;
All lept ashore in tumult; nor would staie
Till one winck seas'd myne eyes: and so I laie
Sleeplesse, and pain'de with headach; till first light
The Cock had crow'd vp. Therefore, to the fight
Let no God goe assistent; lest a lance
Wound whosoeuer offers to aduance;
Or wishes but their aid; that skorne all foes;
Should any Gods accesse, their spirits oppose.
Sit we then pleas'd, to see from heauen, their fight.
She said; and all Gods ioin'd in her delight.
And now, both Hosts, to one field drew the iarre;
Both Heralds bearing the ostents of warre.
And then the [1]wine-Gnats, that shrill Trumpets sound
Terriblie rung out, the encounter, round.
Ioue thundred; all heauen, sad warrs signe resounded.
And first, [2]Hypsiboas,[3]Lychenor wounded,
Standing th'impression of the first in fight.
His lance did, in his Lyuers midsts alight,
Along his bellie. Downe he fell; his face,
His fall on that part swaid; and all the grace
Of his soft hayre, fil'd with disgracefull dust.
Then [4]Troglodytes, his thick iaueline thrust
In
