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ON ANGLING. 2 1 7 |
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Soon the trout, a noble victim,
Shall requite thy patient toil ; He shall seize the treacherous feather,
Thoughtless of the deadly guile.
Plunging in his loved dominion, All his arts and strength he tries ;
Greater art and strength resisting, Soon the speckled monarch dies.
Plenteous spoil thy skill rewarding, Thou the sedgy banks shall roam,
Til! evening's shades advancing, Send thee to thy cheerful home.
Blooming wife shall smile thy weleome,
Joyful babes shall clap thy knee; Nights of love and days of pleasure,—
Kings themselves might envy thee.
183 J. Leo, |
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THE ANGLER'S ART.
" All arts and shapes, the wily angler tries
To cloak his fraud, and tempt the tinny prize ;
Their sight, their smell, he carefully explores,
And blends the druggist's and the chemist's stores ;
Devising still with fancy ever new,
Pastes, oils, and unguents, of each scent and hue." |
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