THE BATRACHOMYOMACHIA
George Chapman translation
THE EPISTLE DEDICATORY
TO MY EVER MOST-WORTHY-TO-BE-MOST HONOURED LORD, THE EARL OF SOMERSET, ETC.
Not forc’d by fortune, but since your free mind (Made by affliction) rests in choice resign’d To calm retreat, laid quite beneath the wind Of grace and glory, I well know, my Lord, You would not be entitled to a word That might a thought remove from your repose, To thunder and spit flames, as greatness does, For all the trumps that still tell where he goes. Of which trumps Dedication being one, Methinks I see you start to hear it blown. But this is no such trump as summons lords ’Gainst Envy’s steel to draw their leaden swords, Or ’gainst hare-lipp’d Detraction, Contempt, All which from all resistance stand exempt, It being as hard to sever wrong from merit, As meat-indu’d from blood, or blood from spirit. Nor in the spirit’s chariot rides the soul In bodies chaste, with more divine control, Nor virtue shines more in a lovely face, Than true desert is stuck off with disgrace. And therefore Truth itself, that had to bless The merit of it all, Almightiness, Would not protect it from the bane and ban Of all moods most distraught and Stygian; As counting it the crown of all desert, Borne to heaven, to take of earth, no part Of false joy here, for joys-there-endless troth, Nor sell his birthright for a mess of broth. But stay and still sustain, and his bliss bring, Like to the hatching of the blackthorn’s spring, With bitter frosts, and smarting hailstorms, forth. Fates love bees’ labours; only Pain crown’s Worth. This Dedication calls no greatness, then, To patron this greatness-creating pen, Nor you to add to your dead calm a breath, For those arm’d angels, that in spite of death Inspir’d those flow’rs that wrought this Poet’s wreath, Shall keep it ever, Poesy’s steepest star, As in Earth’s flaming walls, Heaven’s sevenfold Car, From all the wilds of Neptune’s wat’ry sphere, For ever guards the Erymanthian bear. Since then your Lordship settles in your shade A life retir’d, and no retreat is made But to some strength, (for else ’tis no retreat, But rudely running from your battle’s heat) I give this as your strength; your strength, my Lord, In counsels and examples, that afford More guard than whole hosts of corporeal pow’r, And more deliverance teach the fatal hour. Turn not your med’cine then to your disease, By your too set and slight repulse of these, The adjuncts of your matchless Odysses; Since on that wisest mind of man relies Refuge from all life’s infelicities. Nor sing these such division from them, But that these spin the thread of the same stream From one self distaff’s stuff; for Poesy’s pen, Through all themes, is t’ inform the lives of men; All whose retreats need strengths of all degrees; Without which, had you even Herculean knees, Your foes’ fresh charges would at length prevail, To leave your noblest suff’rance no least sail. Strength then the object is of all retreats; Strength needs no friends’ trust; strength your foes defeats. Retire to strength, then, if eternal things, And y’are eternal; for our knowing springs Flow into those things that we truly know, Which being eternal, we are render’d so. And though your high-fix’d light pass infinite far Th’ adviceful guide of my still-trembling star, Yet hear what my discharg’d piece must foretel, Standing your poor and perdue sentinel. Kings may perhaps wish even your beggar’s-voice To their eternities, how scorn’d a choice Soever now it lies; and (dead) I may Extend your life to light’s extremest ray. If not, your Homer yet past doubt shall make Immortal, like himself, your bounty’s stake Put in my hands, to propagate your fame; Such virtue reigns in such united name. Retire to him then for advice, and skill, To know things call’d worst, best; and best, most ill. Which known, truths best choose, and retire to still. And as our English general, (whose name[1] Shall equal interest find in th’ house of fame With all Earth’s great’st commanders,) in retreat To Belgian Gant, stood all Spain’s armies’ heat By Parma led, though but one thousand strong; Three miles together thrusting through the throng Of th’ enemy’s horse, still pouring on their fall ’Twixt him and home, and thunder’d through them all; The Gallic Monsieur standing on the wall, And Wond’ring at his dreadful discipline, Fir’d with a valour that spit spirit divine; In five battalions ranging all his men, Bristl’d with pikes, and flank’d with flankers ten; Gave fire still in his rear; retir’d, and wrought Down to his fix’d strength still; retir’d and fought; All the battalions of the enemy’s horse Storming upon him still their fieriest force; Charge upon charge laid fresh; he, fresh as day, Repulsing all, and forcing glorious way Into the gates, that gasp’d, (as swoons for air,) And took their life in, with untouch’d repair:— So fight out, sweet Earl, your retreat in peace; No ope-war equals that where privy prease Of never-number’d odds if enemy, Arm’d all by envy, in blind ambush lie, To rush out like an opening threat’ning sky, Broke all in meteors round about your ears. ’Gainst which, though far from hence, through all your rears, Have fires prepar’d; wisdom with wisdom flank, And all your forces range in present rank; Retiring as you now fought in your strength, From all the force laid, in time’s utmost length, To charge, and basely come on you behind. The doctrine of all which you here shall find, And in the true glass of a human mind. Your Odysses, the body letting see All his life past, through infelicity, And manage of it all. In which to friend, The full Muse brings you both the prime and end Of all arts ambient in the orb of man; Which never darkness most Cimmerian Can give eclipse, since, blind, he all things saw, And to all ever since liv’d lord and law. And through our mere-learn’d men; and modern wise, Taste not poor Poesy’s ingenuities, Being crusted with their covetous leprosies, But hold her pains worse than the spiders’ work, And lighter than the shadow of a cork, Yet th’ ancient learn’d, heat with celestial fire, Affirms her flames so sacred and entire, That not without God’s greatest grace she can Fall in the wid’st capacity of man. If yet the vile soul of this verminous time Love more the sale-muse, and the squirrel’s chime, Than this full sphere of poesy’s sweetest prime, Give them unenvied their vain vein and vent, And rest your wings in his approv’d ascent That yet was never reach’d, nor ever fell Into affections bought with things that sell, Being the sun’s flow’r, and wrapt so in his sky He cannot yield to every candle’s eye.
Whose most worthy discoveries, to your lordship’s judicial perspective, in most subdue humility submitteth,
GEORGE CHAPMAN.
THE OCCASION OF THIS IMPOSED CROWNE
After this not only Prime of Poets, but Philosophers, had written his two great poems of Iliads and Odysses; which (for their first lights born before all learning) were worthily called the Sun and Moon of the Earth; finding no compensation, he writ in contempt of men this ridiculous poem of Vermin, giving them nobility of birth, valorous elocution not inferior to his heroes. At which the Gods themselves, put in amaze, called councils about their assistance of either army, and the justice of their quarrels, even to the mounting of Jove’s artillery against them, and discharge of his three-forked flashes; and all for the drowning of a mouse. After which slight and only recreative touch, he betook him seriously to the honour of the Gods, in Hymns resounding all their peculiar titles, jurisdictions, and dignities; which he illustrates at all parts, as he had been continually conversant amongst them; and whatsoever authentic Poesy he omitted in the episodes contained in his Iliads and Odysses, he comprehends and concludes in his Hymns and Epigrams. All his observance and honour of the Gods, rather moved their envies against him, than their rewards, or respects of his endeavours. And so like a man verecundi ingenii (which he witnesseth of himself) he lived unhonoured and needy till his death; and yet notwithstanding all men’s servile and manacled miseries, to his most absolute and never-equalled merit, yea even bursten profusion to imposture and impiety, hear our ever-the-same intranced, and never-sleeping, Master of the Muses, to his last accents, incomparably singing.
BATRACHOMYOMACHIA
Ent’ring the fields, first let my vows call on The Muses’ whole quire out of Helicon Into my heart, for such a poem’s sake, As lately I did in my tables take, And put into report upon my knees. A fight so fierce, as might in all degrees Fit Mars himself, and his tumultuous hand, Glorying to dart to th’ ears of every land Of all the voice-divided;[1] and to show How bravely did both Frogs and Mice bestow In glorious fight their forces, even the deeds Daring to imitate of Earth’s Giant Seeds. Thus then men talk’d; this seed the strife begat: The Mouse once dry, and ’scaped the dangerous cat, Drench’d in the neighbour lake her tender beard, To taste the sweetness of the wave it rear’d. The far-famed Fen-affecter, seeing him, said: “Ho, stranger! What are you, and whence, that tread This shore of ours? Who brought you forth? Reply What truth may witness, lest I find you lie. If worth fruition of my love and me, I’ll have thee home, and hospitality Of feast and gift, good and magnificent, Bestow on thee; for all this confluent Resounds my royalty; my name, the great In blown-up-count’nances and looks of threat, Physignathus,[2] adored of all Frogs here All their days’ durance, and the empire bear Of all their beings; mine own being begot By royal Peleus,[3] mix’d in nuptial knot With fair Hydromedusa,[4] on the bounds Near which Eridanus[5] his race resounds. And thee mine eye makes my conceit inclined To reckon powerful both in form and mind, A sceptre-bearer, and past others far Advanc’d in all the fiery fights of war. Come then, thy race to my renown commend.” The Mouse made answer: “Why inquires my friend? For what so well know men and Deities, And all the wing’d affecters of the skies? Psicharpax[6] I am call’d; Troxartes’[7] seed, Surnamed the mighty-minded. She that freed Mine eyes from darkness was Lichomyle,[8] King Pternotroctes’[9] daughter, showing me, Within an aged hovel, the young light, Fed me with figs and nuts, and all the height Of varied viands. But unfold the cause, Why, ’gainst similitude’s most equal laws Observed in friendship, thou mak’st me thy friend? Thy life the waters only help t’ extend; Mine, whatsoever men are used to eat, Takes part with them at shore; their purest cheat, Thrice boulted, kneaded, and subdued in paste, In clean round kymnels, cannot be so fast From my approaches kept but in I eat; Nor cheesecakes full of finest Indian wheat, That crusty-weeds[10] wear, large as ladies’ trains; Liverings,[11] white-skinn’d as ladies; nor the strains, Of press’d milk, renneted; nor collops cut Fresh from the flitch; nor junkets, such as put Palates divine in appetite; nor any Of all men’s delicates, though ne’er so many Their cooks devise them, who each dish see deckt With all the dainties all strange soils affect.[12] Yet am I not so sensual to fly Of fields embattled the most fiery cry, But rush out straight, and with the first in fight Mix in adventure. No man with affright Can daunt my forces, though his body be or never so immense a quantity, But making up, even to his bed, access, His fingers’ ends dare with my teeth compress, His feet taint likewise, and so soft seize both They shall not taste th’ impression of a tooth. Sweet sleep shall hold his own in every eye Where my tooth takes his tartest liberty. But two there are, that always, far and near, Extremely still control my force with fear, The Cat, and Night-hawk, who much scathe confer On all the outrays where for food I err. Together with the straits-still-keeping trap,[13] Where lurks deceitful and set-spleen’d mishap. But most of all the Cat constrains my fear, Being ever apt t’ assault me everywhere; For by that hole that hope says I shall ’scape, At that hole ever she commits my rape. The best is yet, I eat no pot-herb grass, Nor radishes, nor coloquintidas, Nor still-green beets, nor parsley; which you make Your dainties still, that live upon the lake.” The Frog replied: “Stranger, your boasts creep all Upon their bellies; though to our lives fall Much more miraculous meats by lake and land, Jove tend’ring our lives with a twofold hand, Enabling us to leap ashore for food, And hide us straight in our retreatful flood. Which, if you will serve, you may prove with ease. I’ll take you on my shoulders; which fast seize, If safe arrival at my house y’ intend.” He stoop’d, and thither spritely did ascend, Clasping his golden neck, that easy seat Gave to his sally; who was jocund yet, Seeing the safe harbours of the king so near, And he a swimmer so exempt from peer. But when he sunk into the purple wave, He mourn’d extremely, and did much deprave Unprofitable penitence; his hair Tore by the roots up, labour’d for the air With his feet fetch’d up to his belly close; His heart within him panted out repose, For th’ insolent plight in which his state did stand; Sigh’d bitterly, and long’d to greet the land, Forced by the dire need of his freezing fear. First, on the waters he his tail did stere, Like to a stern; then drew it like an oar, Still praying the Gods to set him safe ashore; Yet sunk he midst the red waves more and more, And laid a throat out to his utmost height; Yet in forced speech he made his peril slight, And thus his glory with his grievance strove: “Not in such choice state was the charge of love Borne by the bull, when to the Cretan shore He swum Europa through the wavy roar, As this Frog ferries me, his pallid breast Bravely advancing, and his verdant crest (Submitted to my seat) made my support, Through his white waters, to his royal court.” But on the sudden did apparance make An horrid spectacle,—a Water-snake Thrusting his freckled neck above the lake. Which seen to both, away Physignathus Dived to his deeps, as no way conscious Of whom he left to perish in his lake, But shunn’d black fate himself, and let him take The blackest of it; who amidst the fen Swum with his breast up, hands held up in vain, Cried Peepe, and perish’d; sunk the waters oft, And often with his sprawlings came aloft, Yet no way kept down death’s relentless force, But, full of water, made an heavy corse. Before he perish’d yet, he threaten’d thus: “Thou lurk’st not yet from heaven, Physignathus, Though yet thou hid’st here, that hast cast from thee, As from a rock, the shipwrack’d life of me, Though thou thyself no better was than I, O worst of things, at any faculty, Wrastling or race. But, for thy perfidy In this my wrack, Jove bears a wreakful eye; And to the host of Mice thou pains shalt pay, Past all evasion.” This his life let say, And left him to the waters. Him beheld Lichopinax,[14] placed in the pleasing field, Who shriek’d extremely, ran and told the Mice; Who having heard his wat’ry destinies, Pernicious anger pierced the hearts of all, And then their heralds forth they sent to call A council early, at Troxartes’ house, Sad father of this fatal shipwrack’d Mouse; Whose dead corse upwards swum along the lake, Nor yet, poor wretch, could be enforced to make The shore his harbour, but the mid-main Swum. When now, all haste made, with first morn did come All to set council; in which first rais’d head Troxartes, angry for his son, and said: “O friends, though I alone may seem to bear All the infortune, yet may all met here Account it their case. But ’tis true, I am In chief unhappy, that a triple flame Of life feel put forth, in three famous sons; The first, the chief in our confusions, The Cat, made rape of, caught without his hole: The second, Man, made with a cruel soul, Brought to his ruin with a new-found sleight, And a most wooden engine of deceit, They term a Trap, mere murth’ress of our Mice. The last, that in my love held special price, And his rare mother’s, this Physignathus (With false pretext of wafting to his house) Strangled in chief deeps of his bloody stream. Come then, haste all, and issue out on them, Our bodies deck’d in our Dædalean arms.” This said, his words thrust all up in alarms, And Mars himself, that serves the cure of war, Made all in their appropriates circular. First on each leg the green shales of a bean They closed for boots, that sat exceeding clean;[15] The shales they broke ope, boothaling by night, And ate the beans; their jacks art exquisite Had shown in them, being cats’ skins, everywhere Quilted with quills; their fenceful bucklers were The middle rounds of can’sticks; but their spear A huge long needle was, that could not bear The brain of any but be Mars his own Mortal invention; their heads’ arming crown Was vessel to the kernel of a nut. And thus the Mice their powers in armour put. This the Frogs hearing, from the water all Issue to one place, and a council call Of wicked war; consulting what should be Cause to this murmur and strange mutiny. While this was question’d, near them made his stand An herald with a sceptre in his hand, Embasichytrus[16] call’d, that fetch’d his kind From Tyroglyphus[17] with the mighty mind, Denouncing ill-named war in these high terms: “O Frogs! the Mice send threats to you of arms, And bid me bid ye battle and fix’d fight; Their eyes all wounded with Psicharpax’ sight Floating your waters, whom your king hath kill’d, And therefore all prepare for force of field, You that are best born whosoever held.” This said, he sever’d: his speech firing th’ ears Of all the Mice, but freez’d the Frogs with fears, Themselves conceiting guilty; whom the king Thus answer’d, rising, “Friends! I did not bring Psicharpax to his end; he, wantoning Upon our waters, practising to swim, Aped us,[18] and drown’d without my sight of him. And yet these worst of vermin accuse me, Though no way guilty. Come, consider we How we may ruin these deceitful Mice. For my part, I give voice to this advice, As seeming fittest to direct our deeds: Our bodies decking with our arming weeds, Let all our pow’rs stand rais’d in steep’st repose Of all our shore; that, when they charge us close, We may the helms snatch off from all so deckt, Daring our onset, and them all deject Down to our waters; who, not knowing the sleight. To dive our soft deeps, may be strangled straight, And we triumphing may a trophy rear, Of all the Mice that we have slaughter’d here.” These words put all in arms; and mallow leaves They drew upon their legs, for arming greaves.[19] Their curets, broad green beets; their bucklers were Good thick-leaved cabbage, proof ’gainst any spear; Their spears sharp bulrushes, of which were all Fitted with long ones; their parts capital They hid in subtle cockleshells from blows. And thus all arm’d, the steepest shores they chose T’ encamp themselves; where lance with lance they lined, And brandish’d bravely, each Frog full of mind. Then Jove call’d all Gods in his flaming throne, And show’d all all this preparation For resolute war; these able soldiers, Many, and great, all shaking lengthful spears, In show like Centaurs, Or the Giants’ host. When, sweetly smiling, he inquired who, most Of all th’ Immortals, pleased to add their aid To Frogs or Mice; and thus to Pallas said: “O Daughter! Must not your needs aid these Mice, That, with the odours and meat sacrifice Used in your temple, endless triumphs make, And serve you for your sacred victuals’ sake?” Pallas replied: “O Father, never I Will aid the Mice in any misery. So many mischiefs by them I have found, Eating the cotton that my distaffs crown’d,[20] My lamps still haunting to devour the oil. But that which most my mind eats, is their spoil Made of a veil, that me in much did stand, On which bestowing an elaborate hand, A fine woof working of as pure a thread; Such holes therein their petulancies fed That, putting it to darning, when ’twas done, The darner a most dear pay stood upon For his so dear pains, laid down instantly; Or, to forbear, exacted usury.[21] So, borrowing from my fane the weed I wove, I can by no means th’ usurous darner move To let me have the mantle to restore. And this is it that rubs the angry sore Of my offence took at these petulant Mice. Nor will I yield the Frogs’ wants my supplies, For their infirm minds that no confines keep; For I from war retir’d, and wanting sleep, All leap’d ashore in tumult, nor would stay Till one wink seized mine eyes, and so I lay Sleepless, and pain’d with headache, till first light The cock had crow’d up. Therefore, to the fight Let no God go assistant, lest a lance Wound whosoever offers to advance, Or wishes but their aid, that scorn all foes; Should any God’s access their spirits oppose. Sit we then pleased to see from heaven their fight.” She said, and all Gods join’d in her delight. And now both hosts to one field drew the jar, Both heralds bearing the ostents of war. And then the wine-gnats,[22] that shrill trumpets sound, Terribly rung out the encounter round; Jove thund’red; all heaven sad war’s sign resounded. And first Hypsiboas[23] Lichenor[24] wounded, Standing th’ impression of the first in fight. His lance did in his liver’s midst alight, Along his belly. Down he fell; his face His fall on that part sway’d, and all the grace Of his soft hair fil’d with disgraceful dust. Then Troglodytes[25] his thick javelin thrust In Pelion’s[26] bosom, bearing him to ground, Whom sad death seiz’d; his soul flew through his wound. Seutlæus[27] next Embasichytros slew, His heart through-thrusting. Then Artophagus[28] threw His lance at Polyphon,[29] and struck him quite Through his mid-belly; down he fell upright, And from his fair limbs took his soul her flight. Limnocharis,[30] beholding Polyphon Thus done to death, did, with as round a stone As that the mill turns, Troglodytes wound, Near his mid-neck, ere he his onset found; Whose eyes sad darkness seiz’d. Lichenor[31] cast A flying dart off, and his aim so placed Upon Limnocharis; that sure he thought[32] The wound he wish’d him; nor untruly wrought The dire success, for through his liver flew The fatal lance; which when Crambophagus[33] knew, Down the deep waves near shore he, diving, fled; But fled not fate so; the stern enemy fed Death with his life in diving; never more The air he drew in; his vermilion gore Stain’d all the waters, and along the shore He laid extended; his fat entrails lay (By his small guts’ impulsion) breaking way Out at his wound. Limnisius[34] near the shore Destroy’d Tyroglyphus. Which frighted sore The soul of Calaminth,[35] seeing coming on, For wreak, Pternoglyphus;[36] who got him gone With large leaps to the lake, his target thrown Into the waters. Hydrocharis[37] slew King Pternophagus,[38] at whose throat he threw A huge stone, strook it high, and beat his brain Out at his nostrils. Earth blush’d with the stain His blood made on her bosom. For next prise, Lichopinax to death did sacrifice Borboroccetes’[39] faultless faculties; His lance enforced it; darkness closed his eyes. On which when Prassophagus[40] cast his look, Cnissodioctes[41] by the heels he took, Dragg’d him to fen from off his native ground, Then seized his throat, and soused him till he drown’d But now Psicharpax wreaks his fellows’ deaths, And in the bosom of Pelusius[42] sheaths, In centre of his liver, his bright lance. He fell before the author of the chance; His soul to hell fled. Which Pelobates[43] Taking sad note of, wreakfully did seize His hand’s gripe full of mud, and all besmear’d His forehead with it so, that scarce appear’d The light to him. Which certainly incensed His fiery spleen; who with his wreak dispensed No point of time, but rear’d with his strong hand A stone so massy it oppress’d the land, And hurl’d it at him; when below the knee It strook his right leg so impetuously It piecemeal brake it; he the dust did seize, Upwards everted. But Craugasides[44] Revenged his death, and at his enemy Discharged a dart that did his point imply In his mid-belly. All the sharp-pil’d spear Got after in, and did before it bear His universal entrails to the earth, Soon as his swoln hand gave his jav’lin birth. Sitophagus,[45] beholding the sad sight, Set on the shore, went halting from the fight, Vex’d with his wounds extremely; and, to make Way from extreme fate, leap’d into the lake. Troxartes strook, in th’ instep’s upper part, Physignathus; who (privy to the smart His wound imparted) with his utmost haste Leap’d to the lake, and fled. Troxartes cast His eye upon the foe that fell before, And, seeing him half-liv’d, long’d again to gore His gutless bosom; and, to kill him quite, Ran fiercely at him. Which Prassseus’[46] sight Took instant note of, and the first in fight Thrust desp’rate way through, casting his keen lance Off at Troxartes; whose shield turn’d th’ advance The sharp head made, and check’d the mortal chance. Amongst the Mice fought an egregious Young springall, and a close-encount’ring Mouse, Pure Artepibulus’s[47] dear descent; A prince that Mars himself show’d where he went. (Call’d Meridarpax,[48]) of so huge a might, That only he still domineer’d in fight Of all the Mouse-host. He advancing close Up to the lake, past all the rest arose In glorious object, and made vaunt that he Came to depopulate all the progeny Of Frogs, affected with the lance of war. And certainly he had put on as far As he advanced his vaunt, he was endu’d With so unmatch’d a force and fortitude, Had not the Father both of Gods and men Instantly known it, and the Frogs, even then Given up to ruin, rescued with remorse. Who, his head moving, thus began discourse: “No mean amaze affects me, to behold Prince Meridarpax rage so uncontroll’d, In thirst of Frog-blood, all along the lake. Come therefore still, and all addression make, Despatching Pallas, with tumultuous Mars, Down to the field, to make him leave the wars, How potently soever he be said[49] Where he attempts once to uphold his head.” Mars answer’d: “O Jove, neither She nor I, With both our aids, can keep depopulacy From off the Frogs! And therefore arm we all, Even thy lance letting brandish to his call From off the field, that from the field withdrew The Titanois, the Titanois that slew, Though most exempt from match of all earth’s Seeds, So great and so inaccessible deeds It hath proclaim’d to men; bound hand and foot The vast Enceladus; and rac’d by th’ root The race of upland Giants.” This speech past, Saturnius a smoking lightning cast Amongst the armies, thund’ring then so sore, That with a rapting circumflex he bore All huge heaven over. But the terrible ire Of his dart, sent abroad, all wrapt in fire, (Which certainly his very finger was) Amazed both Mice and Frogs. Yet soon let pass Was all this by the Mice, who much the more Burn’d in desire t’ exterminate the store Of all those lance-loved soldiers. Which had been, If from Olympus Jove’s eye had not seen The Frogs with pity, and with instant speed Sent them assistants. Who, ere any heed Was given to their approach, came crawling on With anvils on their backs, that, beat upon[50] Never so much, are never wearied yet; Crook-paw’d, and wrested on with foul cloven feet, Tongues in their mouths,[51] brick-back’d, all over bone, Broad shoulder’d, whence a ruddy yellow shone, Distorted, and small-thigh’d; had eyes that saw Out at their bosoms; twice four feet did draw About their bodies; strong-neck’d, whence did rise Two heads; nor could to any hand be prise; They call them lobsters; that ate from the Mice Their tails, their feet, and hands, and wrested all Their lances from them, so that cold appall The wretches put in rout, past all return. And now the Fount of Light forbore to burn Above the earth; when, which men’s laws commend, Our battle in one day took absolute end.