The Frogs asking for a King.
The Frogs, after some Ages spent
In Democratick Government,
Grew weary of it, and agree,
To change it for a Monarchy;
And humbly begg'd a King of Jove,
The God comply'd, and from above
Dropt 'em a very peaceful one;
But only in the falling down,
He made such Noise, that all the Frogs,
Who are but fearful skittish Dogs
Were frighted and drove under Water,
And there remain'd a good while after,
Among the Weeds; their fear was such,
There was not one, that dar'd so much
As look upon him, whom they thought
Some Giant, or the Lord knows what.
Tho' all this while 'twas but a Log,
At last came up a daring Frog;
But took care, not to swim too nigh it,
Till, seeing it lay so very quiet,
He went on, tho' in mighty awe;
But when his Fellow Subjects saw
Their Bulky King did him no harm,
In half an Hour the Pond did swarm
Of Frogs. O! what a pretty thing
It was to play about their King:
The meekest that e'er wore a Crown;
And soon they're so familiar grown,
That laying all respect aside,
They jump upon his Back, and ride.
The King says nothing, keeps his Peace,
And let's em work him as they please.
But this they hate, they'd have him move.
A second time they call on Jove,
And tire his Brain with clam'rous rout,
To have a King, that stirr'd about.
Jove mad for being plagu'd again,
Sends em a Damn'd devouring Crane;
Who only was for Kill, and Slay,
And eat whoe'er came in his way.
Much louder now the Rascals cry;
Deliver us from Tyranny!
O Jupiter! if he goes on, }
We shall be murder'd every one, }
This is the Devil upon dun. }
Quoth he, I'll humour Fools no more,
You might have kept what ye had before;
You left your common wealth, to seek
A King; and then he was too meek;
You must have one forsooth, that stirs:
I hope now you have got one, Sirs.
You never chang'd without a Curse,
Keep this, for fear you get a worse.
The Moral.
Thank God, this Fable is not meant }
To Englishmen; they are content, }
And hate to change their Government. }
The Wolf and the Lamb.
It is a thing without contest,
That he that's strongest reasons best.
The Weather being sultry hot,
A Lamb to cool himself, was got
A paddling in a purling Stream.
(To Rhiming Fools a mighty Theme)
When a she Wolf (the De'l sure sent her)
Came down, in quest of some Adventure,
And hardly spy'd poor Innocence;
But pick'd a Quarrel void of Sence;
Began to sputter, Damn and Sink,
Ask'd how he dar'd to spoil her Drink,
A nasty poysoning Dog. Odsbud!
He'd make it all as thick as mud.
For which he'd punish him by Jove.
Madam, reply'd the Lamb, I love
To reason calmly, and will show ye,
That I am Twenty Yards below ye.
And humbly craving leave, from thence
I draw this reg'lar Consequence;
That I can't, standing in this Place,
Disturb the Liquor of your Grace.
You do, says the other, and last Year
You told some lies of me. I swear,
I was not born then, quoth the Lamb:
I han't left sucking of my Dam.
'Twas either you or else your Brother.
I've ne'er a one. Then 'twas your Mother,
Or any other near Relation;
For all your wicked Generation
Hates me; your Dogs and Shepherds too
And without any more a do,
The Lamb was carry'd to the Wood
And serv'd the cruel Wolf for Food.