Soon the bird of darkness ringing, Vale of bliss, etc., etc. O how blest, to dwell for ever, Hopes unstain'd by 'wild'ring fears; SEASON FOR ANGLING. The waters not too high, too thick, too clear, You will not fail the nimble trout to kill. ANGLING. What though the hunter's horn be mute, Yet still young May doth don a dress That now first owns the summer sun, Not for the blossoms they descry, From spring's full flow'ry lap just won; But that she calls them to the plain, And beckons to the stream, And, joying in her genial reign, Bids hearts and hope to beam. Oh! then there is something the sportsman to cheer, Then, sportsmen, to the course, the course, Ay, hie thee on, these are of May, Nor think of the covert and fields. You sure must love the cheerful scene, ANGLING PLEASURES. When worldly cares corrode the heart, Then esteem the solid treasures, When on the soul you'd pour the balm, THE BLUE TAIL'D FLY. A hungry fish once chanced to spy A little wicked blue-tail'd fly, Fal de ral, &c. This fly unto the fish did say, As in the flood he saw him play, If you can bite my tail you may, This hungry fish then made a spring, Fal de ral, &c. But he could not catch this blue-tail'd thing, Fal de ral, &c. So, like the Fox, he lost a treat, For the fish the fly could not eat, So says he your nasty skin's not sweet, Now a little man by chance came by, Fal de ral, &c. And he caught with his hand this blue-tail'd fly, Fal de ral, &c. Then on a hook this fly he hung, And in this river this blue thing flung, Where death soon stopt his wicked tongue, This hungry fish saw the blue-tail'd fly f Fal de ral, &c. I'll eat, says he, his body and all, My hungry belly you shall fill, Ile bit but the hook stuck in his gill, The little man drew him on land, Fal de ral, &c. And took this hungry fish in hand, Then on a twig did him suspend, So my song, good folks, is at an end, Fal de ral, &c. LINES. O world's deceit! how are we thrall'd by thee, Elegie. DR. DONNE. |