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Of such a fashion in the sylvan Mere the Frogs, a brood of Lycian blood whilòme, when fall of coming foot perchance they hear, while all incautious left their wat’ery home, wake marish-echoes hopping here and there to ’scape the perils threat’ening death and doom; and, all ensconcèd in the well-known deep nought but their small black heads ’bove water peep: