The wars and woes of heroes six feet long Have oft resounded in Pierian song.

Who has not heard of Colchos' golden fleece,

And Argo, manned with all the flower of Greece?

Of Thebes' fell brethren, Theseus, stern of face, And Peleus' son, unrivalled in the race,

Æneas, founder of the Roman line,

And William, glorious on the banks of Boyne ?
Who has not learned to weep at Pompey's woes,
And over Blackmore's epic page to doze?
"Tis I, who dare attempt unusual strains,
Of hosts unsung, and unfrequented plains;
The small shrill trump, and chiefs of little sizę,
And armies rushing down the darkened skies.

Where India reddens to the early dawn, withdrawn:

Winds a deep vale from vulgar eyes

Bosomed in groves the lowly region lies,

And rocky mountains round the border rise.
Here, till the doom of Fate its fall decreed,
The empire flourished of the pygmy-breed;

Heré Industry performed, and Genius planned,
And busy multitudes o'erspread the land.

But now to these lone bounds if pilgrim stray,
Tempting through craggy cliffs the desperate way,
He finds the puny mansion fallen to earth,

Its godlings mouldering on th' abandoned hearth; And starts, where small white bones are spread around, "Or little footsteps lightly print the ground;"

While the proud crane her nest securely builds,
Chattering amid the desolated fields.

But different fates befel her hostile rage,
While reigned, invincible through many an age,
The dreaded Pygmy: roused by war's alarms,
Forth rushed the madding Mannikin to arms.
Fierce to the field of death the hero flies;

The faint crane, fluttering, flaps the ground, and dies; And by the victor borne (o'erwhelming load!)

With bloody bill loose-dangling marks the road.

And oft the wily dwarf in ambush lay,

And often made the callow young his prey;

With slaughtered victims heaped his board, and smiled,

To visit the sire's trespass on the child.

Oft, where his feathered foe had reared her nest,

And laid her eggs and household gods to rest,

Burning for blood, in terrible array,

The eighteen-inch militia burst their way :
All went to wreck; the infant foeman fell,
When scarce his chirping bill had broke the shell.
Loud uproar hence, and rage of arms arose,
And the fell rancour of encountering foes;

Hence dwarfs and cranes one general havoc whelms,
And Death's grim visage scares the pygmy realms.
Not half so furious blazed the warlike fire

Of Mice, high theme of the Meonian lyre;
When bold to battle marched the accoutered Frogs,
And the deep tumult thundered through the bogs.
Pierced by the javelin-bulrush on the shore,
Here, agonizing, rolled the mouse in gore;
And there the frog (a scene full sad to see!)
Shorn of one leg, slow sprawled along on three :

He vaults no more with vigorous hops on high,

But mourns in hoarsest croaks his destiny.

And now the day of woe drew on apace, A day of woe to all the pygmy-race,

When dwarfs were doomed (but penitence was vain) To rue each broken egg, and chicken slain.

For roused to vengeance by repeated wrong,

From distant climes the long-billed legions throng: From Strymon's lake, Cayster's plashy meads,

And fens of Scythia green with rustling reeds;

From where the Danube winds through many a land,

And Mareotis laves the Egyptian strand,

To rendezvous they waft on eager wing,

And wait assembled the returning spring.

Meanwhile they trim their plumes for length of flight, Whet their keen beaks, and twisting claws, for fight; Each crane the pygmy power in thought o'erturns, And every bosom for the battle burns.

When genial gales the frozen air unbind,

The screaming legions wheel, and mount the wind.

Far in the sky they form their long array,
And land and ocean stretch'd immense survey,

Deep, deep beneath; and triumphing in pride,
With clouds and winds commixed, innumerous ride;
"Tis wild obstreperous clangour all, and heaven
Whirls, in tempestuous undulation driven.

Nor less the alarm that shook the world below, Where marched in pomp of war the embattled foe; Where mannikins with haughty step advance,

And grasp the shield, and couch the quivering lance;
To right and left the lengthening lines they form,
And ranked in deep array await the storm,

High in the midst the chieftain-dwarf was seen,
Of giant stature, and imperial mien.

Full twenty inches tall, he strode along,

And viewed with lofty eye the wondering throng; And, while with many a scar his visage frowned, Bared his broad bosom, rough with many a wound Of beaks and claws, disclosing to their sight

The glorious meed of high heroic might.