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ON ANGLING. 8/ |
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SONG.
Awake, np, up, and away to the streams,
Where the speckl'd trout lies sleeping ; Where the salmon leaps, and the grayling peeps,
And the pike a watch is keeping. Yes, awake and away ! all your dreamings dismiss,
And away with all snobbish adorning ; There never was sky of such promise as this ;
Then huzza for an angling morning !
O ! who'd the glorious rills forsake,
And their rippling pools not follow ; Through the mountain chasm, through the mountain brake, Or down the shaddy hollow.
Then awake and away, &c.
Though the bowl may yield some joy to the heart,
Of rapture, too, partaking ; Yet it never can rival the angler's start
When the dark grey sky is first breaking.
Then awake and away, &c.
Though some still swear no charm can vie
With beauty's glance and tone ; Yet give me the flash of the salmon's eye,
And the sigh of his dying moan. Then awake and away, all your dreaming dismiss,
And away with all snobbish adorning; There never was sky of such promise as this.
Then huzza for an angling moraine ! |
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