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ON ANGLING.                                  91
Vain angler ! slave to man's applause, Heartless herself, for hearts she draws ;
Then flings them lightly by ; Yet, though I know and scorn the cheat, Bewitched by all her bland deceit,
I cannot, dare not, fly.
In days of old, when first refinement's light
Broke through the midst of chaos and of night,
Our great great-grandmothers were giv'n alone
Such humble Chri'stian names as Maud and Joan :
E'en Arc's heroic Maid the latter bore,
And Maud, a celebrated Queen of yore.
But such th'improvement of our polish'd age,
And such the revolutionary rage,
That milk and fish-fags now are Arabellas,
Lousisas, Julias, Carolines, and Stellas.
As t'other day a fish-wench trail'd along,
And "Sprats as big as herrings, ho!" her song,
She thus aderess'd—in acents far more mild—
Nay, Stentor-like, her filthy wandering child—
"Juiia Maria!—little imp of evil !
Come from the kennel, conic—you dirty devil i"
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