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RE Britain&apos;s Peace is broken quite, Ere Parties meet in deadly Fight; Ere Blood is pilt and Treaure pent, Our Crown remov'd or Kingdom rent. Ye enles Tribe with Patience hear, A imple Fable, worth your Ear.

&emsp;In Days of yore, when Beats cou'd prate, And argue on Affairs of State, A Colony of Frogs whoe Hot A free Prerogative did boat; Till Faction, Avarice and Strife, Depriv'd them of the happiet Life, This Tribe inbred to Dicontent, Many Solicitations ent To Jove, the Emp'ror of the Sky, That he their Wih wou'd gratify, And grant them from his radiant Seat, A King to rule their jarring State. But Jove their weak Requet rejected, And out of Pity long neglected; The Conequence could plain foretel, And bid them know when they were well. But they unatisfy'd perit, That he wou'd anwer their Requet; Tir'd out at lat, Jove angry threw A Log among this murm'ring Crew: Amaz'd they tood, the mighty Fall Diffus'd a Terror 'mongt 'em all Their Fears dipers'd, they humbly came, And paid due Homage to his Name. Demur a while, was huh'd again, They 'njoy'd, like us, a peaceful Reign; They went, they came, they drank, they eat, And laught nad talk'd as they thought fit. But by Degrees their Pride grew high, Indulg'd with too much Liberty; They corn their peaceful Prince's Reign, And jarring Tumults roe again. A King they cry! a helples Weight, Why don't he rie, exert his Might, And put our daring Foes to flight? Once more they importuned Jove, That he'd this heedles King remove, And grant them one whoe mighty Sway Wou'd make their Foes (and them) obey; One active, bold, and tout beide, And nearer to their Bands allied. O Murmerers! Jove in Wrath reply'd. Mut I for ever bear your Pride? You hall have Reaon to complain, And feel a cruel Tyrant's Reign. Thus aid, th' inraged Thunderer ends A Stork triumphant o'er their Fens, Who reign'd with arbitrary Sway, Devouring all within his Way, Or drove them forth, and in their Place Advanc'd his own tyranick Race. This fatal Change too oon appear'd, What Groans around the Fens were heard! Hoare croaking Lamentations rie, But Jove was deaf to all their Cries, And left them, unredres'd, to bear What they'd long ought with Earnet Pray'r.

S after Storms, the Sun more bright appears, That Joy is greatet which is rais'd by Fears Adverity makes Men more fond of Wealth, Who hath no Sicknes, prizeth not his Health. A Scene of Woe adds Pleaure to our Joys, Still to be happy, Happines detroys; This long has been thrice happy Britain's Cae, Indulg'd with Plenty, Liberty and Peace, 'Till late involv'd in this intetine War, Which we unus'd to, think it more evere. Yet if true Subjects cordially unite Our daring Foes hall oon be put to flight, And Peace and Plenty all our Toils requite. Such bae pretending Rebels can't withtand, Great GEORGE&apos;s Force, and 's brave Command. O may his Valour with his Years advance, Old England&apos;s Glory, and a Dread to France. The Scourge of Spain, the Terror of all thoe That now does Britain&apos;s Happines oppoe: And then we hall in future Annals ee, That more than Marlbro' was, hall be.