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238 A FABLE. |
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Tired out with happiness, the frogs Sedition croak'd through all their bogs; And thus to Jove the restless race, Made out their melancholy case.
" Fam'd, as we are, for faith and prayer, We merit sure peculiar care; But can we think great good was meant us, When logs for Governors were sent us ?
" Which numbers crush'd they fell upon, And caus'd great fear,—till one by one, As courage came, we boldly fac'd 'em, Then leap'd upon 'em, and disgrac'd 'em !
" G-reat Jove," they croak'd, "no longer fool us, None but ourselves are fit to rule us ; We are too large, too free a nation, To be encumber'd with taxation!
" We pray for peace, but wish confusion, Then right or wrong, a—revolution ! Our hearts can never bend t' obey; Therefore no king—and more we'll pray." |
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