Ma main sera ta recompense.’ ”
We secured a number of brave auxiliaries in the shrimps, who, headed by a valiant sea-crab, shouted, as they formed into marching order—
“Forward let us march
With our backs upon the foe.”
All good citizens were ordered to leave wife and children, and prepare to be everywhere at a moment’s notice, ready to fight for their country. Notwithstanding the happy stratagem which shut in the rebels, we were doomed to defeat. A company of the enemy’s flies, mechanics, were drafted to place the guns so as to command our position. The coolness of these creatures, foes though they were, won our admiration. They planted the weapons with an unconcern as complete as if preparing to storm the calix of a flower, while the result of their manœuvres soon told terribly on our left wing. Our swarms, impatient for the fray—displaying more valour than discretion—fell upon the foe in disorganised detachments. The right attacked the enemy’s left under the leadership of the Goliaths, but the light infantry under Prince Humble-Bee were as waves against a rock scattered in boiling foam. Our left was opposed by the mining, cutting, and carpentering Andrines, and the corporation of Rhinoceros-Beetles, who having only one horn, obeyed the mighty two-horned Stags. Flies, Moths, Grubs, and other insects attacked and routed our centre. Prince Humble-Bee calculated on the Rhinoceros-Beetles attacking his heavy troops, compelling them to traverse the field, separating the two armies; but the Beetle, who had been apprised of the plan of campaign by a deserter, commanded his troops to close their ranks and their wings, thus to await the enemy’s shock.
The colours floated in the wind, the sun shone brightly on the insects ranged in battle array, while martial music fired our foes with desperate resolve. From time to time grains of balsam, projected into the air by Stag-Beetles with much precision, fell among our troops, exploding and scattering death and dismay around. The enemy’s forces stood firm as a rock. Our army, thoroughly demoralised, made a final attack, and were beaten off with great loss. Bruised wings, scattered mandibles and limbs impeded their movements, till at last they fell back in disorder. As a climax to our misfortunes, the general of the May Bugs, rolling over on his back, was pierced by the sting of a rebel Wasp. It was a lost battle—the Waterloo of our cause! Prince Humble-Bee, not caring to survive his defeat, plunged into the thick of the fray, when, after performing prodigies of valour, he died the death of the brave, pierced by twenty-nine wounds.
