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ON ANGLING. 139
And tepid gales obscured the ruffled pool,
And from the deeps called forth the wanton swarm. Formed on the Samian School, or those of Irid. There are who think these pastimes scarce humane ; Yet in my mind, (and not relentless I) His life is pure that wears no fouler stain.
Blow, Zephyr, and whisper the maid.
That I sigh at her cruel delay ; O, tell her I'm down in the glade,
Angling my moments away.
'Twas her beauty gave life to the stream, And filled my heart with delight;
Her voice, like a fanciful dream— Her smile that gave pleasure to life.
O, let her not flee from my eye, Or rob me of pleasure so fair ; The streamlet runs on with a sigh, And the rod is thrown down in despair.