The Argument

NO Monarch's Death, no fall of Prince or King,
My humble rural Muse intends to sing.
Let others strive in everlasting-Verse,
First to make Hero's, then t'adorn their Herse.
Of stranger Tragedys I will complain;
Low Subjects best befit a lowly Swain.
Immortal Maro did immortal make
The loving Gnat that sav'd him from a Snake:
The Theme's inverted now, why should not I
Give my poor harmless Worm an Elegy?
Why should not I his luckless Fate bemoan,
Wrong'd and abus'd by all, but wronging none?
Bred in the Fields, he oft was bruis'd and broke
By ev'ry cross-grain'd Traveller's cruel stroke;
At length he leaves th' unhospitable Air,
And to the Town's Asylum does repair;
There all his Tricks and all his Slights imparts,
o to revive his Patron's drooping Hearts:
Now through a Ring he 'll softly gliding pass,
Now weave a thousand Circles in the Grass;
Now in a thousand folds himself he 'll tye,
Which with the Oraculous Gordian Knot shall vye:
This Alexander needs not cut in twain;
Next moment finds it all dissolv'd again.
Him no proud Louvres, nor Escurial's Hide,
What has a humble Worm to do with Pride?
A little Box which his kind Master gave,
His Pallace was, and would have been his Grave;
But sacrilegious Mouths him thence did tear,
And made their Guts his loathed Sepulcher.
Epicurizing there on homely Bran,
He Gluttony upbraids in wiser Man;
As happy as a harmless Snake could be,
Happy as Cadmus or Hermione.
Erinnis saw, and foam'd, and rav'd, and griev'd,
My Snake better than her black Vipers liv'd:
Unto great Moustapha she does repair,
With leathern Wings forcing the burthen'd Air;
Moustapha, cruel, secret, bold and wise,
Redoubted Monarch of the well-teeth'd Mice,
Approaching his proud Palace, she put on
The form of Mab, Empress to Oberon:
When the stern Prince of Mice in slumber lay
Tir'd with luxurious Revels of the day,
The Fury envying him so calm a rest,
Enthrones a Vice-Roy Viper in his Breast.
Then thus accosts him,—Wake, lost King, awake,
Unless your last long Sleep you mean to take:
That Traytor who your Brother once o'repower'd,
And on yon fatal Lake his Limbs devour'd,
When with Physignathus he went to view
Regions before unknown to him and you;
The treacherous Water-Snake hard by does rest,
And will, I fear, attempt your sacred Breast:
Rise then, if you 're a King, and guard your Throne,
Revenge your Brothers Quarrel, and your own.
Thus said, no longer she above abides,
But down agen, a-down to Hell the Fury slides.
Up starts the Micean Prince, and stares around,
And with his Cryes the ecchoing Walls resound:
Off from his Bed he leaps, and takes his Launce,
A piece of an old Needle found by chance;
Then with another skip he nimbly flees
To his tough Shield made of the Rind of Cheese:
A Guard he cries, with Scrieches shrill and long,
And his bold Subjects to the Presence throng,
Like walls of Brass they all around him stand:
When Silence was observ'd at his Command,
He thus bespake his Princes,—
—Shall we be
Always content with sordid Slavery?
Not Long ago stern Iove fierce Tybert sent,
Who all the Flower of our sad Nation rent;
When freed from her a while we breath'd in peace,
New Foes, new Rebbels every day increase.
And is this all the Guard my Princes keep?
Thus could you kindly let your Soveraign sleep,
Whilst a fierce Viper does in ambush lye?
Thus could you undiscover'd pass him by?
Upon you Cliff, my Genius found him out,
With feeble—wooden Walls inscons'd about.
There needs no more, if ye are Mice, begin,
Stand to your Arms, and take the Fortress in.
That happy Mouse that brings the Traytor's Head,
With Garlands Crown'd, shall round our Streets be led,
And my Fair Daughter grace his Nuptial Bed.
A dreadful new-form'd Army strait appears,
Bright numerous Troops of eager Volunteers:
Unto the Castle their joynt Forces drew,
All Pioneers, and all Assailants too:
Its feeble Walls they madly undertake,
And quickly the too weak Foundations shake.
A spacious Breach but too too soon was made,
But my Snake knew not how to be afraid;
Rais'd his blew Crest, with Hisses fill'd the Air,
And bravely does for brave defence prepare.
Artophagus, the Young, the Fair, the Stout,
Get's o're the Rampire first of all the Rout:
But the Defendant nimbly thrusts him down,
And on a Rocky Mountain splits his Crown;
The fall does all his well-head'n bones displace,
His Brains Spurt out and stick upon the face
Of sad Sitaphagus, who was combin'd
By Friendship to him, as by Nature joyn'd:
Upon his bleeding Reliques down he fell,
Wishing for ever only there to dwell;
He'd his desire, for, crusht with a huge stone,
Even as in Life, so they in Death are one.
Their fates inrag'd the bold surviving Crew,
Who to the Breach like Bees in Clusters flew;
With Ivory Spears some lance his chequer'd Breast,
Some scaling Ladders raise, and mount, the rest;
Undermine all the avenues, and some,
Bring in Reserves, (without or Flute, or Drum
All their Efforts as yet are spent in vain,
Unmov'd he like a Rock does still remain:
Huge weights the Ladders crack, he sees his foes,
Mangled, and crush't by their own party's blows.
Great Moustapha himself does now draw nigh,
And his glad followers voices rend the Sky;
His Ianizary's to the assault he calls,
Who like themselves assail'd the tottering Walls;
Swarms of four-footed Warriours now had set
Their Arms upon a lofty Parapet:
A natural counterscarp of living store;
The Assailants strove at first to mine't, but they
Discourag'd with the Labour went away:
Here the Sly Snake swift through a Port-hole goes,
Unfear'd, unmarkt by his presumptious foes:
With various windings he attempts to shock
The now more than Half undermined Rock;
No little Prudence, and no little pain
Now loos'd the stubborn Earth which did retain
The unwieldy stone; the stone which now did bear
Innumerable Warriour, who repair
To the free breach, does on a sudden fall
And in Inevitable ruine plung'd 'em all.
Loud shreeks here scale the Heavens, and a warm flood
Springs up from the poor mangled Miceans blood.
The horrid paint press't from the reeking Dead,
Soon turns the Living's sable hiew to Red.
Heart-chilling fear, and black despair around,
The fearful, desperate Micean camp resound;
They can't for the retreats late signal stay,
He's the best Souldier thought that fastest runs away.
The Mighty Dragon he has hir'd they cry,
And raise a formidable Mutiny:
Moustapha from his Tent does hasten out,
By Love, or fear to stop the murmuring Rout;
Now he perswades, and now enrag'd does stamp,
Bidding his Guards kill all that leave the Camp.
A greater fear prevails with some to stay,
Tho' envying such as ran betimes away:
The enraged Tyrant of proud Micea's Lands,
Mounted upon a Captive Moustrap stands;
His furious Eyes sparkle with boyling Ire,
He breaths Destruction, Blood, Revenge, and Fire.
Then thus Accosts his Army.
Can it be!
How long have Micean Souldiers learn'd to flee?
Degenerate Mice! to lead you I disdain,
Throw down your Arms, and e'ne sneak home again!
Where are those Heroes who with me could dare,
And beat the Elephant, whose shoulders bare,
Without a Trope, huge Castles in the Air?
One of your Valiant Ancestors, in strife
With Man himself did save a Lyons Life,
And for his lawful Guerdon did possess
By her great Parent's Will the Lyoness;
Tho' some may his too luckless end deride,
Like Phaeton in great attempts he dy'd.
Was it indeed so long ago, when we
Took noble Arms against the Tyranny,
Of cruel Puss? (a Curse upon the Name!)
Where are your Souls? where is your dear-bought fame?
Well may the Rebel Frogs rejoyce to see
How their brave Conqu'rers poorly conquer'd be.
Well may they rise against us, well may they
Chase their poor low-soul'd, little Lords away.
Shall one weak foe or forces baffle thus,
And shall a Worm contend with Mighty us?
O Rowze your Souls, and wake your Rage and Hate,
Poor Wretch! Valiant he's not, but desperate;
See where your mangled Fellows gasping lie,
The Tryumphs of his Viperous Cruelty!
Be ready to revenge your Kindreds falls,
As soon as the too tardy Trumpet calls!
On then like Mice! the Manes of the Dead,
Call for Revenge upon his guilty Head.
A joyful Hum ran round the Camp, they shake
Their dreadful Arms, and preparation make
For General Assaults. This from on high,
The pensive wounded Snake with Grief did Spy;
His Walls were gone, his feeble Curtains rent,
His food, and all his Ammunition spent:
There's no hope; dye he must, yet e're he dyes,
Amongst his Friends he 'll leave some Legacies:
His batter'd Castle which must be his Grave,
To his kind Master once again he gave.
His Bones, if reserv'd from the murdring Hand,
Of the fierce Mice, to make his Hat a Band;
His Brains, if them some generous Mouse would bring,
To them he gives who say he has a Sting:
Who 'll give their sence the lye in meer despight,
Altho' they see he'l neither sting, nor bite.
This done, he scorns to sneak into his Grave,
But will at least a noble exit have;
Unto the Castle Wall he seems to grow,
Ready to meet his Death, to meet his foe:
Hundreds in Crowds over crusht hundreds come,
Some to meet Conquest, most to meet their Doom.
Weary'd with Death, and tir'd with killing now,
The Champions Body, not his Mind must bow;
Now first his Enemy's weak hopes begin,
And Floods of desparate foes all round come rolling in:
All round he glides, and be they ne're so strong,
Their Death he hasts, and does his Life prolong.
But when he still encreasing Enemy,
Like a swoln Torrent does all stops defie;
His nimble Tail about their Legs he twists,
In vain his Fury every one resists:
Then from on high a-down himself does throw,
At once expiring with the expiring foe;
Encompass't round with Trophys, there he lies,
And in the Bed of Honour bravely dyes.