Rejoicing on their tyrant’s wedding-day,
The people drown’d their care in drink;
While from the general joy did Æsop shrink,
And show’d its folly in this way.
“The sun,” said he, “once took it in his head
To have a partner: so he wed.
From swamps, and ponds, and marshy bogs,
Up rose the wailings of the frogs.
“What shall we do, should he have progeny?”
Said they to Destiny;
‘One sun we scarcely can endure,
And half-a-dozen, we are sure,
Will dry the very sea.
Adieu to marsh and fen!
Our race will perish then,
Or be obliged to fix
Their dwelling in the Styx!’
For such an humble animal,
The frog, I take it, reason’d well.”