Aroused up at length,
How he rolls in his strength,
And springs with a quivering bound:
Then away with a dash,
Like the lightning's flash,
Far o'er the smooth pebbly ground.
Though he strain on the thread,
Down the stream with his headThat burst from the run makes him coolThen spring out for the land,
On the rod change the hand,
And draw down for the deepening pool.
Mark the gleam of his side
As he shoots through the tide-
Are the dyes of the dolphin more fair?
Fatigue now begins,
For his quivering fins
On the shallows are spread in despair.
His length now we'll stretch
On the smooth sandy beach, With the flap from his gills waxing slow; The sport of an hour
Spent the strength of his power,
And the fresh-water monarch lies low.
yon fair brook's enamell'd side,
Behold my Chloe stands;
My angle trembles o'er the tide,
As conscious of her hands.
Calm as the gentle waves appear,
Her thoughts serenely flow;
Calm as the softly breathing air,
That curls the brook below.
Such charms her sparkling eyes disclose,
With such soft power endu❜d,
She seems a new-born Venus, rose
From the transparent flood.
From each green bank and mossy cave
The scaly race repair;
They sport beneath the crystal wave,
And kiss her image there.
How bright the silver eel, enroll'd
In shining volumes lies;
There basks the carp bedropp'd with gold,
In the sunshine of her eyes.
With hungry pikes in wanton play,
The timorous trouts appear;
The hungry pikes forget to prey,
The timorous trouts to fear.
With equal haste the thoughtless crew,
To the fair tempter fly,
Nor grieve they, whilst their eyes they view,
That by her hand they die.
Thus I, too, view'd the nymph of late;
Ah! simple fish beware;
Soon will you find my wretched fate,
And struggle in the snare.
But, fair one, though these toils succeed,
Of conquest be not vain ;
Nor think o'er all the scaly breed,
Unpunish'd thus to reign.
Remember, in a wat❜ry glass,
His charms Narcissus spied;
When for his own bewitching face,
The youth despair'd and died.
Awake, my boys-awake, arise!
The grey light of the eastern skies
Is blushing into day;
The lark is up, and carols clear,
Then, wherefore are you lingering here ?
My gallant boys, away.
With rod and creel, till set of sun,
O'er hill and dale we'll go ;
And, ere the light shall fade in night,
Full many a trout that springs to sight,
Will, bleeding, quiver low.
The pebbly streams, whose murm'ring sound
Doth fill the ear and air around,
And heather bells between ;
Afar the hills look blue and bright,
And near the streams in golden light,
Enclose the glorious scene.
With rod and creel, &c.
Hold! see the trout! he plunges deep,
Now rises, gives a springing leap,
And rushes down the rill ;
Whirr whirr! the line runs off the reel
He slap-dash runs just like the de'il,
But mark! he's got his fill.
With rod and creel, &c.
Thus by the streams we'll bend our way,
In healthful sport, with spirits gay,
Till eve's chill shadows fall;
Then, wearied, home our steps retrace,
To greet some dear expectant face,
A joy more sweet than all.
With rod and creel, &c.
Mark well the various seasons of the year,
How the succeeding insect race appear,
In their revolving moon one colour reigns,
Which, in the next, the fickle trout disdains.
Oft have I seen a skilful angler try
The various colours of the treach'rous fly;
When he with fruitless pain hath skim'd the brook,
And the coy fish rejects the skipping hook.
He shakes the boughs that on the margin grow,
Which o'er the stream a weaving forest throw:
When if an insect fall (his certain guide)
He gently takes him from the whirling tide;
Examines well his form with curious eyes,
His gaudy vest, his wings, his horns, and size;
Then round his hook the chosen fur he winds,
And on the back a speckled feather binds;
So just the colours shine through ev'ry part,
That nature seems to live again in art.
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