The Frogs, a freeborn people made,
From out their marsh with clamor pray’d
That Jove a monarch would assign
With power their manners to refine.
The sovereign smiled, and on their bog
Sent his petitioners a log,
Which, as it dash’d upon the place,
At first alarm’d the tim’rous race.
But ere it long had lain to cool,
One slily peep’d out of the pool,