Page:The Iliad and Odyssey of Homer (IA iliadodysseyofho02home).pdf/585

Rh Yon num'rous hosts, magnanimous, robust, And rough with spears, how like the giant race They move, or like the Centaurs! smiling, next, He ask'd, of all the Gods, who favour'd most The Mice, and who the Frogs? but, at the last, Turning toward Minerva, thus he spake. The Mice, my daughter, need thee; go'st thou not To aid thy friends the Mice, inmates of thine, Who to thy temple drawn by sav'ry steams Sacrifical, and day by day refresh'd With dainties there, dance on thy sacred floor? So spake the God, and Pallas thus replied. My father! suffer as they may, the Mice Shall have no aid from me, whom much they wrong, Marring my wreaths, and plund'ring of their oil My lamps.—But this, of all their impious deeds, Offends me most, that they have eaten holes In my best mantle, which with curious art Divine I wove, light, easy, delicate; And now, the artificer whom I employ'd To mend it, clamouring demands a price Exorbitant, which moves me much to wrath, For I obtain'd on trust those costly threads, And have not wherewithal to pay th' arrear. Nor love I more the Frogs, or purpose more To succour even them, since they not less, Dolts as they are, and destitute of thought, Have incommoded me. For when, of late,