Those baits will best reward the fisher's pains,
Whose polish'd tails a fhining yellow ftains:
Cleanfe them from filth, to give a tempting glofs,
Cherish the fully'd reptile race with mofs;
Amid the verdant bed they twine, they toil,
And from their bodies wipe their native foil.
But when the fun difplays his glorious beams, And shallow rivers flow with filver ftreams,
Then the deceit the fcaly breed furvey,
Bask in the fun, and look into the day.
You now a more delufive 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; fometimes golden wire
The fhining bellies of the fly require;
The peacock's plumes thy tackle must not fail,
Nor the dear purchafe of the fable's tail.
Each gaudy bird fome flender tribute brings,
And lends the growing infect proper wings:
Silks of all colours must their aid impart,
And ev'ry fur promote the fisher's art.
Sɔ the gay lady, with expenfive care,
Borrows the pride of land, of fea, and air;
Furs, pearls, and plumes, the glitt'ring thing difplays, Dazles our eyes, and eafie hearts betrays.
Mark well the various seasons of the year,
How the fucceeding infect race appear;
In this revolving moon one colour reigns,
Which in the, next the fickle trout difdains.
Oft have I feen a.fkilful angler try.
The various colours of the treach'rous fly;
When he with fruitless pain hath skim'd the brook,
And the coy fish rejects the. fkipping hook,
He shakes the boughs that on the margin grow,
Which o'er the stream a waving foreft throw;
When if an infest fall, (his certain guide)
He gently takes him from the whirling tide;
Examines well his form with curious eyes,
His gaudy veft, his wings, his horns and fize,
Then round his hook the chofen fur he winds,
And on the back a fpeckled feather binds,
So just the colours fhine through ev'ry part,
That nature feems to live again in art
Let not thy wary step advance too near,
While all thy hope hangs on a finglé hair;
The new-form'd infect on the water moves,
The speckled trout the curious fnare approves ;
Upon the curling surface let it glide,
With nat❜ral motion from thy hand supply'd,
Against the stream now gently let it play,
Now in the rapid eddy roll away.
The scaly fhoals float by, and feiz'd with fear
Behold their fellows toft in thinner air;
But foon they leap, and catch the swimming bait, Plunge on the hook, and share an equal Fate. 220
When a brisk Gale against the current blows,
And all the watry plain in wrinkles flows,
Then let the fisherman his art repeat,
Where bubbling eddies favour the deceit.
If an enormous falmon chance to spy -
The wanton Errors of the floating fly,
He lifts his filver gills above the flood,
And greedily fucks in the 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 fudden rage he now aloft appears,
And in his eye convulfive anguish bears;
And now again, impatient of the wound,
He rolls and wreaths his fhining 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 ftretches with th' unwieldy prize;
Each motion humours with his fteady hands,
And one flight hair the mighty bulk commands:
"Till tir'd at last, despoil'd of all his strength,
The game athwart the ftream unfolds his length.
He now, with pleasure, views the gasping prize
Gnash his sharp teeth, and roll his blood-fhot eyes;
Then draws him to the fhore with artful care,
And lifts his noftrils in the fick'ning air:
Upon the burden'd ftream he floating lies,
Stretches his quivering fins, and gafping dies.
Would you preferve a num'rous finny race ?
your fierce dogs the rav'nous otter chase;
Th' amphibious monster ranges all the shores,
Darts through the waves and ev'ry haunt explores :
Or let the gin his roving steps betray,
And fave from hoftile jaws the fcaly prey.
I never wander where the bord'ring reeds
O'erlook the muddy ftream, whofe tangling weeds 260
Perplex the fisher; I, nor chufe to bear
The thievish nightly net, nor barbed spear;
Nor drain I ponds the golden carp to take,
Nor trowle for pikes, difpeoplers of the lake.
Around the steel no tortur'd worm fhall twine,
No blood of living insect stains my line;
Let me, lefs cruel, caft the feather'd hook,
With pliant rod athwart the pebbled brook,
Silent along the mazy margin stray,
And with the fur-wrought fly delude the prey.
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