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XX.
Psicharpax well-lov'd Prince, did yet remain
To Me, and to his fondling Mother dear,
Whom late Pelides King of Frogs has slain,
Nor Fun'ral Wailings[1] can attend his Bier.
War, war at once, let all our Realms declare
195 If Wrongs provoke, or Thirst of Vengeance warms;
Instant our Swords and Lances we prepare,
Our Limbs adorning bright in temper'd Arms.
He spoke; the Mice obey their King's Commands,
200 Rage swell'd their glowing Breasts, and arm'd their mighty Hands.
Psicharpax well-lov'd Prince, did yet remain
To Me, and to his fondling Mother dear,
Whom late Pelides King of Frogs has slain,
Nor Fun'ral Wailings[1] can attend his Bier.
War, war at once, let all our Realms declare
195 If Wrongs provoke, or Thirst of Vengeance warms;
Instant our Swords and Lances we prepare,
Our Limbs adorning bright in temper'd Arms.
He spoke; the Mice obey their King's Commands,
200 Rage swell'd their glowing Breasts, and arm'd their mighty Hands.
- ↑ v. 193. Nor Funeral Wailings.] The Loss of Burial was esteem'd a very great Affliction, we have not any Records left concerning the Manner how Mice buried their Dead; an Enquiry into that Piece of Antiquity would be highly satisfactory to the Curious.
XXI.
