Some morning now with balm unwonted fraught,
Forth from its nook your angle rod is brought,
The joints well fitted, line looked duly o'er,
And flies selected from your ample store;
Not this the hour, the gleamy hour, that brings
That swarm gregarious forth of speckled wings,
But the uncertain year demands to choose
The plainest hackles and the most sober hues;
Fresh blows the west-wind on your glowing cheek,
As hurrying forth the well-known reach you seek;
Adown the mead your eager footsteps strain,
Each boyish transport half-revived again ;
Nor yet the trout the swifter streams have won,
But where the earlier shadows feel the sun,
Excursive roave, and in the insect brood
Their first emerging find abundant food.
Light falls your line before the favouring breeze,
Light as the wither'd leaf from autumn trees;
And Oh! when some judicious cast,
In the fair ripple, brings him up at last;
Some master fish, who many a bygone day
Has turned disdainful from the prey away;
Less guarded now the treacherous bait he takes,
And wildly floundering the wild river shakes;
Or downward darts, or high with sudden spring
Vaults into air; again the reel must sing
Till moor'd at length beneath your guiding hand,
His broad gills rest upon the level land.
JOHN LLOYD.
On Till's clear streams that run so deep,
Where oft with joy I've herded sheep,
And with my rod' and line so light,
First caught the smiles of Lucy White;
She was the belle of all around,
With lightsome gait she tripp'd the ground;
With eyes so bright, and dimpl'd chin,
She mov'd the sacred fires within.
My sheep I've left, and wily fly,
To scan her cot, and pass her by ;
With cheerful smile and wistful look,
She trac'd my steps along the brook ;
And once when by the water side,
I vow'd that she should be my bride;
She blush'd assent, what pure delight!
So gain'd the hand of Lucy White.
LINES.
If any so wise is
That angling despises,
Let him grunt on his trade and be sober; While we fish and sing,
In one constant spring,
He shall droop like the trees in October.
DESCRIPTION OF TWO YOUTHFUL
ANGLERS.
He gazed with admiration unsurpassed
Upon the landscape of the sun bright vale,
Seen, from the shady room in which we sate,
In softened prespective; and more than once
Praised the consumate harmony serene
Of gravity and elegance--diffused
Around the Mansion and its whole domain ;
Not, doubtless, without help of female taste
And female care-'A blessed lot is yours!'
He said, and with that exclamation breathed
A tender sigh ;-but suddenly the door
Opening, with eager haste two lusty Boys
Appeared, confusion checking their delight,
-Not Brothers they in feature or attire,
But fond companions, so I guessed, in field,
And by the river-side--from which they come,
A pair of Auglers, laden with their spoil.
One bears a willow-panner on his back,
'The Boy of plainer garb, and more abashed
In countenance,—more distant and retired.
Twin might the Other be to that fair Girl
Who bounded tow'rds us from the garden mount.
Triumphant entry this to him!-for see,
Between his hands he holds a smooth blue stone,
On whose capacious surface is outspread
Large store of gleaming crimson-spotted trouts;
Ranged side by side, in regular ascent,
One after one, still lessening by degrees
Up to the dwarf that tops the pinnacle.
Upon the Board he lays the sky-blue stone
With its rich spoil;-their numbers he proclaims,
Tells from what pool the noblest had been dragg'd,
And where the very monarch of the brook,
After long struggle, had escaped at last-
Stealing alternately at them and us
(As doth his Comrade too) a look of pride.
And, verily, the silent Creatures made
A splendid sight, together thus exposed ;
Dead-but not sullied or deformed by death,
That seemed to pity what he could not spare.
But oh! the animation in the mien
Of these two Boys! Yea in the very words
With which the young Narrator was inspired,
When, as our questions led, he told at large
Of that day's prowess! Him might I compare,
His looks, tones, gestures, eager eloquence,
To a bold Brook which splits for better speed,
And, at the self-same moment, works its way
Through many channels, ever and anon
Parted and reunited; his Compeer
To the still Lake, whose stillness is to the eye
As beautiful, as grateful to the mind.
-But to what object shall the lovely Girl
Be likened? She.whose countenance and air
Unite the graceful qualities of both,
Even as the shares the pride and joy of both?
FROM WORDSWORTH'S "EXCURSION."
Loe, in a little boat whene one doth stand,
That to a willow bough the while is tied,
And with a pole doth stir and raise the sand,
Whereat the gentle streame doth softly slide;
And then with slender line and rod in hand,
The eager bite not long he doth abide.
Well loaded is his line, his hooke but small,
A good big cork to bear the stream with all,
His bait the least red worme that may be found,
And at the bottome it doth always lie ;
Whereat the greedy Gudgeon bites so sound,
That hooke and all he swalloweth by and by,
See how he strikes, and pulls them up as round,
As if new store the place did still supply;
And when the bit doth die, or bad doth prove,
Then to another place he doth remove.
Around cap-a-pie, with baskets, bags, and rods,
Worms, maggots, brass, lead, the angler's god;
More flies than Esmeraldas land endures,
(Poor Piscatorius noble luck insures,)
Come home, his looks this woeful tale pronounce,
The luggage half a ton ;—the fish half an ounce.
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