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HOMER'S
BATTLE of the Frogs and Mice.
BOOK II.
When rosy-finger'd Morn had ting'd the Clouds,
Around their Monarch-Mouse the Nation crouds,
Slow rose the Monarch, heav'd his anxious Breast,
And thus, the Council fill'd with Rage, addrest.
5 For lost Psycarpax much my Soul endures,
'Tis mine the private Grief, the publick, yours.
Three warlike Sons adorn'd my nuptial Bed,
Three Sons, alas, before their Father dead!
Our Eldest perish'd by the rav'ning Cat,
10 As near my Court the Prince unheedful sate.
Around their Monarch-Mouse the Nation crouds,
Slow rose the Monarch, heav'd his anxious Breast,
And thus, the Council fill'd with Rage, addrest.
5 For lost Psycarpax much my Soul endures,
'Tis mine the private Grief, the publick, yours.
Three warlike Sons adorn'd my nuptial Bed,
Three Sons, alas, before their Father dead!
Our Eldest perish'd by the rav'ning Cat,
10 As near my Court the Prince unheedful sate.
Our
