Classic Poem

A BLOATED Toad, with rankest poison swell'd,
Who ev'ry pleasing sight with hate beheld,
Had long by various arts subsistence found,
And suck'd the venom from each tainted ground;
But discontented with her evil plight,
Pain in her breast, what object could delight?
Not her own kind her fury could escape,
Spite of herself, detesting still the shape.
Once on a time a mouse she envious view'd,
And fast as she could crawl with spleen pursu'd;
But all in vain her utmost strength she spent,
Tho' added anger its assistance lent.
At last, arriving at a winding way,
Where by some chance a shatter'd mirror lay,
Her own deform'd appearance there she spies,
And gazes, fill'd with rage as with surprize;
A flood of poison she against it threw,
And thought at first the hated form withdrew;
But she returning, that returns again,
Which fills with venom ev'ry rising vein;
Collecting more, th' attack she fierce renews,
Yet still the object of her rage she views;
Till, doubly swell'd, her final strength she tries,
And in the vain attempt she bursts and dies.