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The fisher to the neighbouring current speeds,
Whose rapid surface purls, unknown to weeds;
Upon a rising border of the brook

He sits him down, and ties the treach'rous hook.
Now expectation cheers his eager thought,
His bosom glows with treasures yet uncaught,
Before his eyes a banquet seems to stand,
Where ev'ry guest applauds his skilful hand.

Far up the stream the twisted hair he throws, Which down the murm'ring current gently flows; When, if or chance or hunger's powerful sway Directs the roving trout this fatal way, He greedily sucks in the twining bait, And tugs and nibbles the fallacious meat, Now, happy fisherman, now twitch the line: How thy rod bends; behold, the prize is thine! Cast on the bank, he dies with gasping pains, And trickling blood his silver mail distains.

You must not ev'ry worm promiscuous use, Judgment will tell the proper bait to chuse : The worm that draws a long immoderate size The trout abhors, and the rank morsel flies; And, if too small, the naked fraud's in sight, And fear forbids, while hunger does invite:

Those baits will best reward the fisher's pains,
Whose polish'd tails a shining yellow stains:
Cleanse them from filth, to give a tempting gloss;
Cherish the sullied reptile race with moss;
Amid the verdant bed they twine, they toil,
And from their bodies wipe their native soil.

But when the sun displays his gracious beams,
And shallow rivers flow with silver streams,
Then the deceit the scaly breed survey,
Bask in the sun and look into the day;

You now a more delusive art must try,
And tempt their hunger with the curious fly.
To frame the little animal, provide

All the gay hues that wait on female pride :
Let nature guide thee: sometimes golden wire
The shining bellies of the fly require;

The peacock's plumes thy tackle must not fail,
Nor the dear purchase of the sable's tail:
Each gaudy bird some slender tribute brings,
And lends the growing insect proper wings:
Silks of all colours must their aid impart,
And every fur promote the fisher's art.
So the gay lady, with excessive care,

Borrows the pride of land, of sea, and air:

Furs, pearls, and plumes, the glitt'ring thing displays, Dazzles our eyes, and easy hearts betrays.

Mark well the various seasons of the year,
How the succeeding insect race appear:
In this revolving moon one colour reigns,
Which in the next the fickle trout disdains.
Oft have I seen the skilful angler try

The various colours of the treach'rous fly.
When he with fruitless pain hath skimm'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 waving 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 thro' every part,
That nature seems to live again in art.
Let not thy wary step advance too near,
While all thy hope hangs on a single hair:
The new-form'd insect on the water moves,
The speckled trout the curious snare approves;
Upon the curling surface let it glide,
With natural motion from thy hand supply'd:
Against the stream now gently let it play,
Now in the rapid eddy roll away.

The scaly shoals float by, and seiz'd with fear,
Behold their fellows tost in thinner air:

But soon they leap, and catch the swimming bait,.
Plunge on the hook, and share an equal fate.

When a brisk gale against the current blows,
And all the wat❜ry plain in wrinkles flows,
Then let the fisherman his art repeat,
Where bubbling eddies favour the deceit.
If an enormous salmon chance to spy
The wanton errors of the floating fly,
He lifts his silver gills above the flood,
And greedily sucks in th' unfaithful food;
Then downward plunges with the fraudful prey,
And bears with joy the little spoil away;
Soon in smart pain he feels the dire mistake,
Lashes the wave, and beats the foamy lake;
With sudden rage he now aloft appears,
And in his eye convulsive anguish bears;
And now again, impatient of the wound,
He rolls and wreaths his shining body round,
Then headlong shoots beneath the dashing tide:
The trembling fins the boiling wave divide.
Now hope exalts. the fisher's beating heart,
Now he turns pale, and fears his dubious art;
He views the tumbling fish with longing eyes,
While the line stretches with th' unwieldy prize;

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Each motion humours with his steady hands,
And one slight hair the mighty bulk commands:
Till, tir'd at last, despoil'd of all his strength,
The game athwart the stream unfolds his length.
He now, with pleasure, views the gasping prize
Gnash his sharp teeth, and roll his bloodshot eyes;
Then draws him to the shore, with artful care,
And lifts his nostrils in the sick'ning air:
Upon the burthen'd stream he floating lies,
Stretches his quivering fins, and gasping dies.

Would you preserve a numerous finny race? Let your fierce dogs the ravenous otter chase : (Th' amphibious monster ranges all the shores, Darts through the waves, and every haunt explores:) Or let the gin his roving steps betray,

And save from hostile jaws the scaly prey.

I never wander where the bordering reeds O'erlook the muddy stream, whose tangling weeds Perplex the fisher; I nor choose to bear

The thievish nightly net, nor barbed spear;
Nor drain I ponds, the golden carp to take;
Nor troll for pikes, dispeoplers of the lake;
Around the steel no tortur'd worm shall twine,
No blood of living insects stain my line.

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