







 
   
     
       
         The innocent epicure, or, The art of angling a poem.
         Innocent epicure
         J. S., fl. 1697.
      
       
         
           1697
        
      
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         A62957
         Wing T191
         ESTC R1126
         13429079
         ocm 13429079
         99505
         
           
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         (EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. A62957)
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         Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books, 1641-1700 ; 478:2)
      
       
         
           
             The innocent epicure, or, The art of angling a poem.
             Innocent epicure
             J. S., fl. 1697.
             Tate, Nahum, 1652-1715.
          
           [14], 64 p.
           
             Printed for S. Crouch, H. Playford and W. Brown ...,
             London :
             1697.
          
           
             Preface signed: N. Tate.
             Published later, 1741, with title: Angling.
             Reproduction of original in Huntington Library.
          
        
      
    
     
       
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         eng
      
       
         
           Fishing -- Poetry.
        
      
    
     
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           THE
           Art
           of
           ANGLING
           .
        
         
           A
           POEM
           .
        
      
       
         
         
         
           THE
           Innocent
           Epicure
           :
           OR
           ,
           THE
           Art
           of
           ANGLING
           .
           A
           POEM
           .
        
         
           
             Tytire
             amas
             Rivos
             ,
             Rivos
             tibi
             ,
             Tytire
             ,
             dicam
             .
          
           
             Rap.
             
          
           
             —
             Si
             quid
             novisti
             Rectius
             Istis
             ,
          
           
             Candidus
             imperti
             ,
             si
             non
             ,
             His
             utere
             mecum
             .
          
           
             Hor.
             
          
        
         
           LONDON
           :
           Printed
           for
           
             S.
             Crouch
             ,
             H.
             Playford
          
           ,
           and
           
             W.
             Brown
          
           :
           Against
           the
           
             Royal-Exchange
             ,
             Cornhill
          
           ;
           in
           the
           
             Temple-Exchange
             ,
             Fleetstreet
          
           ;
           and
           in
           
             Black-Horse
             Alley
          
           near
           Fleet-Bridge
           .
           1697.
           
        
      
       
         
         
         
           PREFACE
           .
        
         
           THE
           Copy
           of
           this
           Poem
           being
           sent
           to
           me
           from
           the
           Unknown
           Author
           ,
           with
           Commission
           to
           Publish
           or
           Suppress
           it
           ,
           as
           I
           thought
           fitting
           ;
           his
           Indifference
           about
           the
           matter
           convinc'd
           me
           that
           he
           was
           a
           Gentleman
           who
           wrote
           it
           for
           his
           Diversion
           ,
           or
           at
           least
           in
           Kindness
           to
           Those
           who
           are
           Lovers
           of
           that
           Ingenious
           and
           Innocent
           Recreatio●
           ,
           concerning
           which
           he
           has
           made
           so
           judicious
           Observations
           .
           I
           immediately
           communicated
           the
           sight
           of
           his
           Manuscript
           to
           s●●eral
           Experienc'd
           Anglers
           ,
           (
           and
           some
           of
           'em
           no
           Enemies
           to
           the
           Muses
           ,
           )
           who
           agreed
           in
           their
           Opinions
           ,
           That
           notwithstanding
           the
           Confin●m●nt
           th●t
           Verse
           
           lays
           upon
           a
           Writer
           ,
           it
           far
           excels
           any
           thing
           that
           has
           been
           publish'd
           in
           Prose
           upon
           this
           Subject
           ,
           even
           in
           the
           Useful
           and
           Instructive
           Part
           of
           the
           Work.
           They
           assur'd
           me
           ,
           That
           it
           contains
           all
           the
           necessary
           Rules
           that
           have
           yet
           been
           delivered
           ;
           and
           those
           Rules
           digested
           into
           a
           much
           better
           Method
           ;
           together
           with
           several
           Uncommon
           and
           Surprizing
           Remarks
           ,
           which
           many
           who
           are
           reputed
           Artists
           at
           the
           Sport
           ,
           may
           receive
           Advantage
           by
           .
        
         
           This
           was
           All
           that
           seem'd
           needful
           to
           be
           said
           of
           the
           Performance
           ,
           with
           relation
           to
           the
           Angler's
           business
           ;
           and
           in
           reference
           to
           the
           Poetry
           ,
           't
           is
           certain
           that
           every
           man
           will
           judge
           for
           himself
           :
           And
           doubtless
           the
           modestest
           Account
           that
           I
           can
           give
           of
           it
           ,
           will
           be
           most
           acceptable
           to
           an
           Author
           who
           conceals
           his
           Name
           .
        
         
         
           The
           Cast
           and
           Design
           of
           the
           Work
           are
           after
           the
           Model
           of
           Ancient
           and
           best
           received
           Poets
           on
           such
           Arguments
           :
           The
           Style
           lively
           ,
           and
           as
           elevated
           as
           was
           proper
           for
           the
           Matter
           of
           which
           he
           treats
           ,
           and
           discovers
           a
           Genius
           capable
           of
           managing
           a
           greater
           Subject
           :
           The
           Numbers
           are
           smooth
           and
           easy
           ;
           and
           if
           there
           is
           not
           always
           a
           ●ervi●e
           Strictness
           of
           Rhyme
           ,
           that
           seems
           to
           me
           a
           Iudicious
           Negligence
           (
           in
           ●
           Pi●●●
           where
           Nature
           〈◊〉
           to
           have
           the
           Ascendant
           )
           ,
           and
           becoming
           a
           Gentleman
           who
           wrote
           for
           his
           Pleasure
           ,
           and
           makes
           not
           Poetry
           his
           Profession
           .
        
         
           His
           Digressions
           ,
           as
           they
           were
           necessary
           to
           relieve
           the
           Dryness
           of
           prescribing
           Directions
           ,
           so
           are
           they
           Sensible
           and
           Entertaining
           .
        
         
           I
           have
           only
           this
           to
           add
           ,
           That
           since
           the
           Author's
           Scene
           lies
           in
           the
           Countrey
           ,
           in
           the
           
           Solitude
           of
           Rivers
           and
           Meadows
           ,
           I
           presume
           there
           needs
           no
           Apology
           for
           Publishing
           herewith
           so
           good
           a
           Copy
           of
           that
           Original
           Landskip
           of
           Retirement
           ,
           which
           was
           long
           since
           so
           admirably
           drawn
           by
           Horace
           .
           Nor
           can
           any
           Contempla●ive
           Person
           be
           offended
           at
           my
           publishing
           of
           Both
           ,
           since
           they
           were
           Both
           committed
           to
           my
           Disposal
           .
        
         
           
             N.
             TATE
             .
          
        
      
       
         
         
           From
           
             J.
             S.
          
           to
           
             C.
             S.
          
           
        
         
           
             HORACE
             Epist.
             X.
             Lib.
             I.
             
          
           
             
               Vrbis
               Amatorem
               Fuscum
               Salvere
               ju●emus
            
             
               Ruris
               amatores
               ,
               &c.
               
            
          
        
         
           
             HEalth
             to
             my
             Friend
             ,
             who
             loves
             the
             Town
             so
             well
             ;
          
           
             Health
             from
             his
             Friend
             ,
             who
             loves
             his
             Countrey
             Cell
             ;
          
           
             In
             all
             but
             this
             ,
             we
             twin
             like
             Brother
             Doves
             ,
          
           
             What
             one
             dislikes
             ,
             the
             other
             disapproves
             ;
          
           
             And
             
               Covent●
               Garden
            
             Cooing
             but
             divides
             our
             Loves
             .
          
           
           
             Thou
             keep'st
             the
             Billing
             Nest
             ;
             I
             range
             the
             Fields
             ,
          
           
             And
             taste
             what
             uncorrupted
             Nature
             yeilds
             ;
          
           
             Riot
             in
             Flowers
             ,
             and
             wanton
             in
             the
             Woods
             ,
          
           
             Bask
             on
             the
             Mossy
             Banks
             ,
             and
             skim
             along
             the
             Floods
             .
          
           
             In
             short
             ,
             I
             Live
             ,
             and
             Reign
             ,
             and
             Joy
             to
             be
             ,
          
           
             From
             all
             thy
             much-mistaken
             Blessings
             free
             ;
          
           
             And
             ,
             as
             the
             Slave
             the
             Flamens
             surfeits
             fled
             ,
          
           
             Nauseate
             the
             Honey-Cakes
             ,
             and
             feast
             on
             Bread
             ;
          
           
             If
             happiness
             of
             Life
             be
             worth
             our
             care
             ,
          
           
             (
             And
             he
             who
             Builds
             ,
             should
             nicely
             chuse
             his
             Air
             )
             ;
          
           
             Tell
             me
             the
             Place
             that
             with
             the
             Country
             vies
             ,
          
           
             In
             easy
             Blessings
             ,
             and
             in
             Native
             Joys
             ;
          
           
             Where
             chearful
             Hearths
             deceive
             the
             Cold
             so
             well
             ,
          
           
             Or
             gentle
             Gales
             the
             raging
             Beams
             repel
             ;
          
           
           
             When
             both
             the
             Lyon
             and
             the
             Dog
             conspire
             ,
          
           
             With
             furious
             Rays
             to
             set
             the
             day
             on
             fire
             ;
          
           
             Where
             then
             ,
             ah
             where
             !
             but
             here
             ,
             can
             Sleep
             maintain
          
           
             (
             That
             slave
             in
             Courts
             )
             her
             soft
             Imperial
             Reign
             ?
          
           
             Is
             Parian
             Marble
             press'd
             beneath
             thy
             feet
             ,
          
           
             More
             beautiful
             than
             Flowers
             ,
             or
             half
             so
             sweet
             ?
          
           
             Or
             Water
             roaring
             through
             the
             bursting
             Lead
             ,
          
           
             So
             pure
             as
             gliding
             in
             its
             easy
             Bed
             ?
          
           
             Who
             Builds
             in
             Cities
             ,
             yet
             the
             Fields
             approves
             ,
          
           
             And
             hedges
             in
             with
             Pillars
             awkward
             Groves●
          
           
             Strives
             for
             the
             Countrey-View
             that
             farthest
             runs
             ,
          
           
             And
             tweers
             aloof
             at
             Beauties
             which
             he
             shuns
             .
          
           
             In
             driving
             Nature
             out
             ,
             our
             force
             is
             vain
             ,
          
           
             Still
             the
             recoiling
             Goddess
             comes
             again
             ;
          
           
           
             And
             creeps
             in
             silent
             Triumph
             to
             deride
          
           
             The
             weak
             attempts
             of
             Luxury
             and
             Pride
             .
          
           
             An
             ignorant
             and
             uncomparing
             Fop
             ,
          
           
             Is
             cheated
             less
             in
             any
             Mercer's
             Shop
             ,
          
           
             Than
             he
             who
             cannot
             with
             a
             wary
             Eye
          
           
             Distinguish
             Happiness
             from
             Vanity
             .
          
           
             Who
             prosperous
             Chance
             too
             eagerly
             embrace
             ,
          
           
             Feel
             double
             Pangs
             in
             her
             averted
             face
             .
          
           
             You
             once
             must
             leave
             whatever
             you
             admire
             ;
          
           
             Ah
             wisely
             now
             ,
             and
             willingly
             retire
             ;
          
           
             Forsake
             the
             gawdy
             Tinsel
             of
             the
             Great
             ,
          
           
             The
             Peacef●l
             Cottage
             beckens
             a
             Retreat
             :
          
           
             Where
             tr●●
             Content
             so
             tru●
             a
             Greatness
             brings
             ,
          
           
             As
             slights
             th●ir
             ●a●ourites
             ,
             and
             pities
             Kings
             .
          
        
         
           
             The
             Stag
             and
             ●ors●
             in
             common
             Pasture
             fed
             ,
          
           
             Till
             j●rs
             en●u'd
             ,
             and
             Heels
             oppos'd
             to
             Head
             ;
          
           
             But
             Horns
             are
             lucky
             things●
             and
             P●lsrey
             sled
             ,
          
           
           
             Foaming
             for
             spight
             (
             and
             Passion
             is
             a
             Wit
             ,
             )
          
           
             He
             sought
             to
             Man
             ,
             and
             kindly
             took
             the
             Bit
             :
          
           
             But
             when
             he
             fully
             had
             reveng'd
             his
             Cause
             ,
          
           
             The
             Spurs
             still
             gaul'd
             his
             Sides
             ,
             the
             Curb
             his
             Jaws
             .
          
           
             Just
             so
             the
             Man
             who
             has
             his
             Freedom
             sold
             ,
          
           
             (
             The
             nobler
             Riches
             )
             to
             insulting
             Gold
             ,
          
           
             His
             Back
             beneath
             a
             jaunting
             Rider
             lays
             ,
          
           
             Hackney'd
             and
             Spurr'd
             through
             all
             his
             slavish
             days
             .
          
           
             Whose
             Fortune
             is
             not
             fitted
             to
             his
             will
             ,
          
           
             Too
             Great
             or
             Little
             ,
             is
             uneasy
             still
             .
          
           
             Our
             Shooes
             and
             Fortune
             surely
             are
             alli'd
             ,
          
           
             We
             limp
             in
             strait
             ,
             and
             stumble
             in
             the
             Wide
             .
          
           
             Wisely
             now
             take
             what
             Chance
             and
             Fate
             afford
             ,
          
           
             Nor
             wish
             for
             more
             ;
             I
             know
             thou
             wilt
             not
             Hoard
             :
          
           
           
             And
             when
             I
             labour
             for
             the
             sordid
             Gains
             ,
          
           
             Or
             heap
             the
             Trash
             ,
             upbraid
             me
             for
             my
             Pains
             .
          
           
             It
             Serves
             or
             Rules
             ,
             where
             ever
             Gold
             you
             find
             ;
          
           
             But
             still
             the
             Varlet
             is
             a
             Slave
             by
             Kind
             .
          
           
             Receive
             these
             from
             thy
             Friend
             —
          
           
             Who
             laughs
             in
             Kent
             from
             Cares
             and
             Business
             free
             ,
          
           
             And
             wanting
             nothing
             in
             the
             World
             but
             Thee
             .
          
        
      
       
         
         
           Books
           Printed
           for
           ,
           and
           Sold
           by
           
             H.
             Playford
          
           .
        
         
           
             
               HArmonia
               Sacra
            
             ,
             in
             two
             Books
             ,
             containing
             Divine
             Hymns
             and
             Dialogues
             ;
             set
             to
             Musick
             by
             Dr.
             
               I.
               Blow
            
             ,
             the
             late
             Mr.
             
               H.
               Purcell
            
             ,
             and
             other
             Eminent
             Masters
             .
             Price
             of
             both
             bound
             15
             s.
             The
             2d
             Book
             stitch'd
             4
             s.
             
          
           
             
               Deliciae
               Musicae
            
             ,
             in
             four
             Books
             ,
             containing
             most
             of
             the
             newest
             and
             best
             Songs
             ;
             with
             three
             Elegies
             on
             ●ha
             late
             Queen
             Mary
             II.
             being
             the
             first
             Volume
             ;
             ●et
             by
             the
             late
             famous
             Mr.
             
               H.
               Purcell
            
             .
             Price
             of
             the
             Vol.
             stitch'd
             5
             s.
             
          
           
             
               Deliciae
               Musicae
            
             ,
             the
             first
             and
             second
             Book
             of
             Vol.
             2.
             
             Price
             of
             the
             first
             1
             s.
             of
             the
             second
             18
             d.
             
          
           
             The
             whole
             Book
             of
             Psalms
             in
             Three
             Parts
             ,
             by
             
               Iohn
               Playford
            
             ,
             as
             they
             are
             sung
             in
             Churches
             :
             To
             ●hich
             is
             added
             a
             Table
             of
             all
             the
             Trebles
             ,
             and
             what
             ●salms
             are
             sung
             to
             them
             ;
             being
             very
             fit
             for
             Coun●●ey
             Masters
             who
             teach
             the
             same
             :
             2
             d
             Edit
             .
             in
             Octavo
             .
             ●rice
             bound
             3
             s.
             6
             d.
             
          
           
             An
             Ode
             on
             the
             Death
             of
             that
             late
             Excellent
             Ma●●er
             ,
             Mr.
             
               Henry
               Purcell
            
             ;
             the
             Words
             by
             Mr.
             Dryden
             ,
             ●nd
             compos'd
             to
             Musick
             by
             Dr.
             
               Iohn
               Blow
            
             .
          
           
             Also
             the
             late
             Mr.
             Henry
             Purcell's
             Picture
             ,
             exactly
             ●ngraven
             by
             Mr.
             White
             .
             Price
             in
             a
             Frame
             18
             d.
             or
             ●ithout
             a
             Frame
             6
             d.
             
          
           
             
             
               Miscellanea
               Sacra
            
             :
             A
             Collection
             of
             choice
             Poems
             on
             Divine
             and
             Moral
             Subjects
             .
             Vol.
             I.
             Collected
             by
             
               N.
               Tate
            
             ,
             Servant
             to
             His
             Majesty
             .
             Price
             bound
             2
             s.
             
          
           
             The
             Parallel
             ;
             a●
             Essay
             on
             
               Friendship
               ,
               Love
            
             ,
             and
             Marriage
             ;
             by
             Sir
             
               H.
               S.
            
             Price
             sti●ch'd
             6
             d.
             
          
           
             Oroonoko
             ,
             a
             Tragedy
             ;
             by
             Mr.
             
             Southern
             ●
             Price
             18
             d.
             
          
           
             The
             She-Gallants
             ,
             a
             Comedy
             ;
             written
             by
             a
             Person
             of
             Quality
             .
             Price
             18
             d.
             
          
           
             The
             Lovers-Luck
             ,
             a
             Comedy
             ;
             by
             Mr.
             
             Dilk
             ●
             Price
             1
             s.
             
          
        
         
           
             There
             will
             lik●wise
             be
             speedily
             publi●●'●
             ,
          
           A
           Catalogue
           of
           all
           the
           Musick-Books
           sold
           at
           the
           same
           Place
           ;
           amongst
           which
           will
           be
           several
           Italian
           Musick-Books
           ,
           and
           some
           newly
           come
           over
           .
        
      
       
         
           ALL
           Sorts
           of
           
             Fishing-Rods
             ,
             Tackle
          
           ,
           and
           other
           Implements
           of
           Angling
           ,
           sold
           by
           
             William
             Brown
          
           ,
           in
           
             Black-Horse
             Alley
          
           ,
           near
           Fleet-bridge
           ,
           and
           at
           his
           House
           ,
           the
           Sign
           of
           the
           
             Golden
             Fish
          
           in
           St.
           
           Paul
           ●s
           Church-Yard
           .
        
      
    
     
       
         
         
           THE
           Art
           of
           Angling
           .
        
         
           
             HEnce
             Idle
             Love
             ;
             the
             Muse
             at
             last
             grown
             wise
             ,
          
           
             Dilates
             her
             Fancy
             ,
             and
             improves
             her
             Choice
             .
          
           
             To
             vain
             delights
             she
             's
             now
             no●more
             a
             Friend
             .
          
           
             But
             ye
             ,
             ye
             genial
             Souls
             do
             you
             attend
             ;
          
           
             Attend
             and
             listen
             ,
             while
             I
             freely
             tell
          
           
             You
             and
             the
             wiser
             World
             the
             
               Art
               of
               Angling
               well
            
             .
          
           
             Others
             their
             Pleasure
             by
             their
             Hopes
             commend
             ;
          
           
             But
             I
             the
             Anglers
             value
             by
             its
             End.
          
           
           
             Ye
             Nymphs
             and
             River-Gods
             (
             if
             such
             there
             be
             )
          
           
             Of
             you
             I
             sing
             ;
             exert
             your
             Force
             to
             me
             .
          
           
             While
             I
             describe
             the
             Glories
             of
             your
             Court
             ,
          
           
             Natives
             ,
             their
             Manners
             ,
             and
             their
             vast
             Resort
             ,
          
           
             My
             humble
             Reed
             with
             such
             a
             Strain
             inspire
             ,
          
           
             As
             those
             the
             list'ning
             Streams
             in
             you
             admire
             ;
          
           
             When
             the
             glad
             Waves
             from
             their
             swift
             Course
             recoil
             ,
          
           
             And
             in
             your
             Songs
             forget
             their
             hourly
             Toil.
          
           
             So
             may
             they
             still
             attend
             you
             as
             you
             sing
             ;
          
           
             So
             may
             the
             Meads
             ,
             of
             Sport
             your
             wanton
             Scene
             ,
          
           
             Be
             blest
             by
             Iove
             with
             everlasting
             Spring
             .
          
           
             And
             thou
             ,
             whom
             once
             to
             hear
             ,
             is
             once
             to
             love
             ,
          
           
             Alike
             propitious
             to
             my
             Labours
             prove
             .
          
           
             Smile
             on
             your
             own
             Commands
             ,
             tho'
             ill
             obey'd
             ,
          
           
             And
             kindly
             execute
             the
             Muses
             Aid
             .
          
           
             Beneath
             thy
             least
             neglect
             the
             Work
             must
             fall
             ,
          
           
             So
             vast
             its
             Height
             ,
             my
             Genius
             so
             small
             ;
          
           
           
             But
             from
             your
             Smiles
             she
             will
             not
             fear
             to
             hope
             :
          
           
             Atlas
             ,
             they
             say
             ,
             bore
             the
             World's
             Fabrick
             up
             .
          
           
             At
             worst
             the
             just
             will
             emulate
             my
             Fate
             ;
          
           
             Sternhold
             might
             shine
             exalted
             to
             the
             height
             ,
          
           
             And
             B
             —
             and
             L
             —
             Poll
             for
             Laureat
             .
          
        
         
           
             Begin
             ,
             my
             Muse
             ,
             the
             Pleasures
             of
             the
             Wise
             ,
          
           
             Serene
             Content
             ,
             and
             unrepented
             Ease
             ;
          
           
             Thy
             Noble
             Song
             who
             can
             neglect
             to
             hear
             ?
          
           
             None
             but
             the
             Fools
             thou
             shouldst
             not
             love
             nor
             fear
             .
          
           
             They
             scorning
             thee
             ,
             thy
             Reputation
             raise
             ,
          
           
             And
             with
             their
             Cypress
             bring
             Eternal
             Bays
             .
          
        
         
           
             First
             then
             ,
             the
             best
             Materials
             to
             prepare
             ,
          
           
             (
             The
             curious
             Anglers
             chief
             and
             wisest
             Care
             )
          
           
             Sing
             we
             ,
             in
             Numbers
             rather
             just
             than
             new
             ,
          
           
             And
             Short
             ;
             for
             the
             Ingenious
             want
             but
             Few
             .
          
           
             Hints
             are
             enough
             ,
             where
             we
             the
             Subject
             love
             ;
          
           
             And
             the
             Lukewarm
             won't
             more
             than
             Hints
             improve
             .
          
        
         
           
           
             Tir'd
             with
             the
             Glories
             he
             so
             long
             has
             born
             ,
          
           
             When
             Sol
             resigns
             them
             all
             in
             Capricorn
             ,
          
           
             Or
             when
             the
             
               Northern
               Pleiades
            
             are
             set
             ,
          
           
             And
             Rural
             Hinds
             seek
             out
             the
             welcome
             Heat
             ;
          
           
             Awhile
             th'
             approaching
             Winter-blasts
             sustain
             :
          
           
             The
             future
             Bliss
             will
             quit
             the
             present
             Pain
             .
          
           
             Then
             tender
             Shoots
             from
             the
             old
             Hazle
             take
             ;
          
           
             Strait
             ,
             smooth
             ,
             and
             even
             ,
             free
             from
             Knot
             or
             Break.
          
           
             Search
             all
             the
             Copse
             ,
             nor
             spare
             the
             fairest
             Tree
             :
          
           
             No
             matter
             though
             the
             tender
             Mothers
             cry
             .
          
           
             No
             matter
             though
             the
             Nymphs
             ,
             her
             Sisters
             ,
             mourn
             :
          
           
             From
             the
             fresh
             Wound
             fresh
             Offspring
             will
             return
             .
          
           
             Besides
             ,
             't
             is
             kind
             her
             Issue
             to
             impair
             ;
          
           
             Old
             as
             she
             is
             ,
             her
             Stock
             should
             lightly
             bear
             .
          
           
             We
             bless
             the
             Shepherds
             ,
             and
             we
             call
             them
             wise
             ,
          
           
             Who
             treble-bearing
             Ewes
             discreetly
             ease
             :
          
           
             As
             wisely
             then
             you
             may
             your
             Use
             supply
             ;
          
           
             Furnish
             your self
             ,
             and
             ease
             the
             lab'ring
             Tree
             .
          
           
           
             Thus
             got
             ,
             preserve
             them
             with
             your
             utmost
             Care
             ;
          
           
             For
             Nicety
             it self
             's
             a
             Virtue
             here
             .
          
           
             Prune
             them
             ,
             if
             notch'd
             ;
             if
             crooked
             ,
             make
             them
             straight
             :
          
           
             The
             Knife
             does
             this
             ,
             a
             gentle
             Flame
             does
             that●
          
           
             The
             Sap
             expell'd
             ,
             they
             dexterously
             bend
             ,
          
           
             And
             double
             service
             and
             assistance
             lend
             .
          
           
             Then
             lest
             they
             warp
             ,
             and
             from
             the
             curling
             Snake
             ,
          
           
             Their
             quondam
             Tenant
             ,
             some
             resemblance
             take
             ;
          
           
             Let
             some
             straight
             Pole
             their
             fetter'd
             Bodies
             bear
             ;
          
           
             Nor
             loose
             them
             till
             occasion
             first
             require
             .
          
           
             Nor
             when
             you
             fit
             them
             for
             your
             Sport
             and
             Use
             ,
          
           
             Slight
             you
             the
             Art
             ,
             or
             any
             pains
             refuse
             .
          
           
             Here
             nice
             Proportion
             must
             be
             well
             observ'd
             ;
          
           
             And
             exact
             Beauty
             through
             the
             whole
             preserv'd
             :
          
           
             For
             though
             rude
             Slaves
             with
             bungling
             Labour
             kill
             ;
          
           
             True
             Anglers
             ought
             to
             do
             't
             distinguishingly
             well
             .
          
           
             But
             if
             these
             Pains
             ,
             like
             dangerous
             Tasks
             in
             Love
             ,
          
           
             Stifle
             your
             thoughts
             ,
             and
             your
             fledg'd
             hopes
             remove
             :
          
           
           
             A
             little
             Charge
             will
             purchase
             you
             your
             Ease
             ,
          
           
             And
             London
             furnish
             you
             with
             just
             Supplies
             .
          
           
             There
             lab'ring
             Artists
             nicely
             fit
             each
             part
             :
          
           
             You
             buy
             your
             Pleasure
             ,
             and
             they
             live
             by
             Art.
          
           
             The
             Cane
             ,
             the
             Hazle
             ,
             all
             the
             Anglers
             Store
          
           
             They
             sell
             ,
             and
             often
             ,
             to
             the
             Curious
             ,
             more
             .
          
           
             But
             ,
             if
             I
             might
             intrench
             upon
             your
             Ease
             ,
          
           
             I
             'd
             with
             a
             Caution
             join
             my
             poor
             Advice
             .
          
           
             First
             ,
             of
             their
             Lines
             ,
             their
             treach'rous
             Lines
             beware
             ;
          
           
             Nor
             grudge
             your self
             a
             little
             Labour
             here
             .
          
           
             I
             teach
             you
             here
             ,
             by
             sad
             Experience
             taught
             ,
          
           
             What
             I
             with
             Care
             and
             Money
             dearly
             bought
             .
          
           
             Full
             oft
             relying
             on
             my
             Strength
             ,
             not
             Skill
             ;
          
           
             Full
             oft
             the
             Fisher
             was
             the
             Fishes
             spoil
             .
          
           
             Nor
             only
             were
             my
             Hopes
             and
             Pleasures
             crost
             ,
          
           
             But
             ,
             with
             my
             Prize
             ,
             more
             precious
             Time
             was
             lost
             .
          
           
             Then
             warning
             take
             ,
             and
             wisely
             thus
             avoid
          
           
             The
             Rock
             on
             which
             my
             Ship
             has
             oft
             been
             try'd
             .
          
           
             Chuse
             well
             your
             Hair
             ,
             and
             know
             the
             vigorous
             Horse
          
           
             Not
             only
             reigns
             in
             Beauty
             ,
             but
             in
             Force
             .
          
           
           
             Creatures
             decay'd
             the
             London
             Shops
             supply
             :
          
           
             Get
             you
             such
             Locks
             as
             they
             can't
             reach
             to
             buy
             .
          
           
             Nor
             chuse
             the
             Hair
             of
             Beasts
             (
             tho
             newly
             )
             dead
             ;
          
           
             There
             Nature's
             universally
             decay'd
             .
          
           
             But
             ,
             when
             the
             Rampant
             Brute
             with
             Vigour
             flies
          
           
             To
             force
             the
             timerous
             Jade
             to
             taste
             his
             Joys
             ,
          
           
             Obtain
             your
             wish
             at
             any
             Rate
             and
             Price
             .
          
           
             Then
             for
             your
             single
             Links
             the
             fairest
             chuse
             ;
          
           
             Such
             single
             Hair
             will
             best
             supply
             your
             use
             .
          
           
             And
             of
             the
             rest
             your
             several
             Lines
             prepare
             ,
          
           
             In
             all
             still
             lessening
             every
             Link
             a
             Hair.
          
           
             If
             for
             the
             Flye
             ,
             taper
             and
             long
             your
             Line
             ;
          
           
             The
             Fish
             is
             quick
             ,
             and
             hates
             what
             is
             not
             fine
             .
          
           
             If
             for
             the
             Depth
             ,
             to
             stronger
             I
             advise
             ;
          
           
             Tho
             still
             the
             finest
             take
             the
             finest
             Prize
             .
          
           
             But
             e're
             you
             twist
             your
             upper
             Links
             ,
             take
             care
          
           
             Wisely
             to
             match
             in
             Length
             and
             Strength
             your
             Hair.
          
           
             Believe
             me
             ,
             Friend
             ,
             this
             Care
             as
             useful
             is
             ,
          
           
             And
             just
             ,
             as
             any
             part
             of
             my
             Advice
             .
          
           
           
             Have
             you
             not
             seen
             the
             skilful
             Archer's
             Bow
          
           
             Drawn
             to
             a
             height
             ,
             his
             Expectation
             so
             ;
          
           
             The
             Arrow
             pointing
             to
             the
             wish'd-for
             Prize
             ,
          
           
             And
             he
             devouring
             't
             with
             his
             Heart
             and
             Eyes
             ;
          
           
             When
             the
             ill-twisted
             String
             his
             Vigour
             fails
             ,
          
           
             First
             frets
             ,
             then
             snaps
             ,
             the
             baffled
             Master
             rails
             .
          
           
             Such
             oft
             has
             been
             my
             Fate
             ,
             which
             only
             Care
          
           
             And
             future
             Circumspection
             could
             repair
             .
          
           
             On
             equal
             Strength
             we
             wisely
             may
             rely
             ;
          
           
             But
             else
             Experience
             by
             our
             loss
             we
             buy
             .
          
           
             For
             ev'n
             in
             Friendships
             Bonds
             't
             is
             rarely
             found
             ,
          
           
             That
             when
             one
             fails
             ,
             the
             other
             keeps
             his
             ground
             .
          
           
             Then
             wisely
             to
             avoid
             the
             Archer's
             Fate
             ,
          
           
             Twist
             slow
             your
             Links
             ,
             and
             see
             they
             justly
             plait
             .
          
           
             Hair
             best
             with
             Hair
             ,
             and
             Silk
             with
             Silk
             agrees
             ;
          
           
             But
             mixt
             ,
             have
             each
             their
             Inconveniences
             .
          
           
             Though
             would
             you
             freely
             to
             my
             Rules
             attend
             ,
          
           
             I
             'd
             only
             to
             your
             use
             the
             Hair
             commend
             .
          
           
           
             More
             trivial
             things
             are
             these
             ;
             the
             Knot
             and
             *
             Bought
             ,
          
           
             Not
             worth
             a
             Verse
             since
             eas'ly
             learn'd
             without
             .
          
           
             For
             every
             Angler
             here
             by
             Instinct
             knows
          
           
             The
             use
             of
             This
             ,
             and
             that
             That
             must
             be
             close
             .
          
           
             Of
             like
             consideration
             are
             the
             Rest
             ;
          
           
             Hook
             ,
             Float
             and
             Plummet
             ,
             as
             you
             fancy
             best
             .
          
           
             For
             one
             ,
             perhaps
             ,
             applauds
             his
             
             Kerby's
             Ware
             ;
          
           
             And
             others
             cheaplier
             serv'd
             exceed
             him
             every
             where
             .
          
           
             For
             as
             in
             Beauty
             Fancy
             reigns
             ;
             we
             see
          
           
             Fancy
             misleads
             us
             in
             Utility
             .
          
           
             Some
             teach
             you
             next
             the
             blunted
             Hook
             to
             whet
             ;
          
           
             Though
             I
             was
             never
             so
             unfurnish'd
             yet
             ;
          
           
             Nor
             did
             my
             Leisure
             e're
             so
             much
             oppress
             ,
          
           
             To
             lose
             an
             Hour
             in
             niggard
             Idleness
             .
          
           
             Nor
             is
             there
             farther●worthy
             to
             be
             Taught
             ,
          
           
             Bags
             ,
             Landing
             Nets
             ,
             and
             Panniers
             must
             be
             Bought
             .
          
           
             When
             ,
             though
             unask'd
             ,
             th'
             event
             will
             easily
             show
          
           
             Your
             willing
             Chap
             will
             over-furnish
             you
             .
          
        
         
           
           
             Next
             of
             the
             Art
             it Self
             I
             speak
             ;
             O
             Friend
             !
          
           
             My
             weighty
             Lessons
             heedfully
             attend
             !
          
           
             Attend
             me
             ,
             while
             I
             into
             order
             bring
          
           
             Each
             weighty
             Rule
             ,
             and
             every
             pond'rous
             Line
             .
          
           
             Hail
             !
             great
             Triumvirate
             *
             of
             Angling
             !
             Hail
             !
          
           
             Ye
             who
             best
             taught
             ,
             and
             here
             did
             best
             Excel
             .
          
           
             Play
             here
             the
             Gods
             ,
             play
             here
             the
             Heroes
             part
             :
          
           
             Your selves
             the
             Proto-Poets
             of
             the
             Art.
          
           
             My
             humble
             Breast
             with
             pow'rful
             Flames
             Inspire
          
           
             To
             teach
             the
             World
             what
             justly
             we
             admire
             :
          
           
             Joys
             fraught
             with
             Innocence
             ,
             of
             Danger
             free
             ,
          
           
             Raptures
             which
             none
             but
             we
             should
             so
             enjoy
             .
          
           
             But
             tell
             me
             first
             ,
             for
             you
             or
             none
             can
             tell
             ,
          
           
             What
             God
             the
             mighty
             Science
             did
             reveal
             ?
          
           
             For
             sure
             a
             God
             he
             was
             ;
             less
             than
             Divine
             ,
          
           
             How
             could
             such
             weighty
             Blessings
             flow
             from
             him
             ?
          
           
           
             A
             God
             he
             was
             then
             ,
             or
             at
             least
             to
             me
             ,
          
           
             And
             ,
             my
             Associates
             ,
             such
             he
             ought
             to
             be
             .
          
           
             He
             taught
             us
             First
             the
             Grandeur
             of
             the
             Court
          
           
             Contemn'd
             and
             scorn'd
             for
             this
             ,
             to
             chuse
             a
             Sport
          
           
             Full
             of
             Content
             ,
             and
             crown'd
             with
             Healthful
             Ease
             :
          
           
             Where
             Nature
             Frets
             not
             while
             our selves
             we
             Please
             .
          
        
         
           
             Come
             back
             my
             Muse
             now
             to
             the
             Task
             design'd
             ;
          
           
             Sing
             we
             of
             Fish
             the
             Haunts
             of
             every
             Kind
             ,
          
           
             Their
             Baits
             ,
             their
             Seasons
             ,
             and
             their
             usual
             Feed
             ,
          
           
             And
             when
             the
             Angler
             best
             may
             hope
             to
             speed
             .
          
           
             Things
             worthy
             of
             the
             Angler's
             greatest
             Care
             ;
          
           
             Things
             worthy
             Thee
             to
             Teach
             ,
             and
             Him
             to
             Hear
             .
          
        
         
           
             And
             First
             the
             Salmon
             does
             my
             Verse
             command
             ,
          
           
             Lov'd
             at
             his
             Sport
             ,
             but
             more
             at
             Tables
             fam'd
             .
          
           
             Well
             are
             the
             Patient
             Anglers
             Pains
             repaid
             ,
          
           
             When
             this
             fair
             Captain
             is
             his
             Captive
             made
             .
          
           
           
             Oft
             purling
             Brooks
             ,
             but
             oftner
             greater
             Streams
          
           
             He
             Haunts
             :
          
           
             Where
             Neptune
             ,
             like
             the
             Dutch
             in
             India
             Reigns
             :
          
           
             Just
             Salts
             the
             Water
             to
             Evince
             his
             Pow'r
             ,
          
           
             Afraid
             to
             vex
             the
             River-Beauties
             more
             .
          
           
             At
             Mid-day
             when
             the
             Sun
             exerts
             his
             Rays
             ,
          
           
             See
             on
             the
             Surface
             how
             the
             Wanton
             Plays
             .
          
           
             Then
             wisely
             tempt
             him
             ,
             and
             from
             Force
             or
             Choice
          
           
             You
             'll
             see
             him
             nimbly
             to
             your
             Pastime
             Rise
             .
          
           
             Strong
             be
             your
             Lines
             ,
             your
             Hooks
             ,
             your
             Rods
             ,
             and
             all
             ,
          
           
             And
             wise
             your
             Conduct
             ,
             or
             he
             breaks
             the
             whole
             .
          
           
             One
             wary
             Jerk
             ,
             and
             straight
             he
             plunging
             cries
             ,
          
           
             Angler
             be
             cautious●
             or
             you
             lose
             your
             Prize
             .
          
           
             Though
             mealy
             mouth'd
             ,
             he
             's
             sometimes
             that
             way
             lost
             ;
          
           
             Which
             cautious
             care
             prevents
             not
             ,
             no
             ,
             nor
             cost
             .
          
           
             Though
             Art
             may
             much
             your
             Strength
             and
             Lines
             relieve
             ,
          
           
             And
             nice
             observance
             great
             Assistance
             give
             .
          
           
           
             Large
             be
             your
             Flye
             too
             ,
             and
             might
             I
             advise
             ,
          
           
             Expanded
             Wings
             should
             more
             provoke
             his
             Rise
             .
          
           
             To
             which
             if
             various
             Colours
             well
             you
             join
             ,
          
           
             And
             time
             (
             which
             renders
             every
             thing
             Divine
             )
          
           
             Agree
             ,
             it
             cannot
             fail
             to
             answer
             your
             design
             .
          
           
             Yet
             curling
             Billows
             should
             assist
             the
             Cheat
             ,
          
           
             Quick-sighted
             else
             he
             'll
             quickly
             shun
             the
             Bait.
          
           
             And
             clear
             the
             Water
             must
             ,
             or
             else
             he
             Feeds
          
           
             Low
             on
             the
             Gravel
             ,
             or
             the
             wasting
             Weeds
             .
          
           
             Yet
             Lobbworms
             scour'd
             ,
             them
             〈◊〉
             sure
             Friends
             you
             'll
             find
             ,
          
           
             Then
             too
             your
             Tackling
             strengthen
             to
             your
             Mind
             .
          
           
             These
             cannot
             fail
             you
             ,
             if
             the
             dying
             Year
          
           
             Say
             not
             ,
             Desist
             ,
             his
             Spawning
             time
             is
             near
             .
          
           
             A
             Troll
             some
             use
             ,
             and
             some
             the
             Rod
             prefer
             :
          
           
             No
             matter
             which
             ,
             since
             both
             like
             useful
             are
             .
          
           
             Less
             nice
             at
             bottom
             he
             devouring
             Roves
             ,
          
           
             And
             boldly
             rushes
             ,
             as
             he
             boldly
             Loves
             .
          
           
             The
             Mennows
             too
             his
             Rage
             not
             rarely
             feel
             ,
          
           
             Try
             those
             ,
             and
             if
             you
             can
             ,
             procure
             the
             Reel
             ,
          
           
           
             Which
             freely
             of
             its
             self
             emits
             the
             Line
             ,
          
           
             (
             Needfully
             Long
             and
             yet
             securely
             Fine
             )
             .
          
           
             The
             greedy
             Fish
             may
             have
             his
             full
             of
             Play
             ,
          
           
             While
             unconcern'd
             on
             the
             less
             Fry
             you
             Prey
             .
          
           
             Or
             wisely
             casting
             round
             your
             ravish'd
             Eyes
             ,
          
           
             Salute
             the
             Author
             of
             these
             mighty
             joys
             ,
          
           
             With
             these
             or
             more
             adapted
             Thoughts
             than
             these
             :
          
        
         
           
             Coelestial
             Bounty
             !
             How
             shall
             I
             repay
          
           
             Those
             Blessings
             which
             thy
             Mercy
             throws
             away
             ?
          
           
             Each
             Morn
             ,
             each
             Hour
             ,
             thy
             Lavish'd
             hand
             I
             find
             ;
          
           
             Make
             me
             less
             sinful
             ,
             or
             be
             thou
             less
             kind
             .
          
           
             Neglected
             Mercy
             must
             to
             Vengeance
             turn
             ;
          
           
             Be
             thou
             my
             Love
             ,
             though
             by
             the
             Atheists
             scorn
             .
          
           
             Come
             here
             ye
             Fools
             ,
             though
             in
             Opinion
             Wise.
          
           
             Come
             here
             and
             see
             with
             natural
             Reason's
             Eyes
             .
          
           
             Reason
             ,
             your
             Boast
             ,
             though
             an
             imperfect
             Guide
             ,
          
           
             The
             weighty
             Controversy
             shall
             decide
             .
          
           
             In
             beauteous
             order
             see
             the
             Waters
             move
             ,
          
           
             And
             show
             like
             Motion
             in
             the
             Spheres
             above
             .
          
           
           
             Tell
             me
             ,
             Could
             Human
             force
             such
             Skill
             attain
             ?
          
           
             And
             where
             that
             fails
             ,
             sure
             Chance
             attempts
             in
             vain
             .
          
           
             Chance
             Mimicks
             Art
             ,
             and
             Nature
             helps
             the
             Cheat
             ;
          
           
             But
             't
             is
             a
             different
             Glory
             to
             Create
             .
          
           
             Besides
             ,
          
           
             Though
             Gay
             the
             Sun
             his
             Course
             each
             Morn
             renews
             ,
          
           
             Chance
             cannot
             hold
             the
             Reins
             could
             she
             the
             Work
             produce
             .
          
           
             No!
             here
             consistent
             Beauty
             Rules
             the
             whole
             ,
          
           
             Mov'd
             by
             an
             Ardent
             and
             Continual
             Soul.
          
           
             When
             that
             is
             kind
             ,
             the
             Sun
             's
             diffusive
             Ray
          
           
             Ripens
             the
             Fields
             ,
             and
             drives
             the
             Mists
             away
             .
          
           
             When
             sullen
             ,
             then
             the
             strongest
             Beauties
             pine
             ,
          
           
             And
             Chance
             it self
             no
             kind
             Relief
             can
             bring
             .
          
           
             That
             Flowry
             Mead
             is
             not
             by
             Chance
             so
             fair
             ;
          
           
             But
             knows
             its
             Seasons
             ,
             and
             observes
             the
             Year
             .
          
           
             The
             Flocks
             alike
             their
             Annual
             Off'rings
             pay
             :
          
           
             But
             all
             would
             fade
             ,
             were
             purblind
             Chance
             to
             sway●
          
           
           
             O
             Mighty
             Author
             of
             all
             Earthly
             things
             !
          
           
             And
             Heaven
             no
             less
             thy
             wise
             Creation
             Sings
             ;
          
           
             Let
             not
             me
             vainly
             offer
             to
             dethrone
          
           
             Thy
             will
             ,
             to
             Idolize
             my
             foolish
             own
             .
          
           
             Still
             in
             my
             Soul
             more
             genial
             Gleams
             infuse
             ,
          
           
             That
             I
             by
             others
             scorn
             may
             wisely
             chuse
             :
          
           
             May
             wisely
             chuse
             thy
             Precepts
             to
             Obey
             ,
          
           
             And
             all
             things
             else
             fling
             with
             contempt
             away
             .
          
        
         
           
             Come
             back
             my
             Muse
             ,
             now
             change
             the
             weighty
             strain
             ,
          
           
             And
             take
             the
             humble
             Anglers
             up
             again
             .
          
           
             Sing
             next
             the
             Trout
             ,
             for
             next
             in
             Sport
             and
             Kind
          
           
             He
             comes
             .
             O
             thou
             ,
             who
             here
             apply'st
             thy
             Mind
             ,
          
           
             Tread
             softly
             ,
             and
             be
             sure
             keep
             out
             of
             sight
             ;
          
           
             Or
             the
             Shy
             Fish
             will
             balk
             thy
             Appetite
             .
          
           
             Nice
             as
             thy
             hopes
             too
             ,
             be
             thy
             Rod
             and
             Line
             ,
          
           
             Nice
             be
             thy
             Flies
             ,
             and
             cast
             exactly
             fine
             .
          
           
             For
             which
             nor
             Rod
             ,
             nor
             Line
             of
             length
             should
             want
             ,
          
           
             Full
             Six
             Yards
             each
             ,
             if
             so
             the
             Streams
             consent
             .
          
           
           
             Taper
             and
             light
             ,
             as
             long
             ,
             from
             Hand
             to
             Hook
             ,
          
           
             If
             for
             the
             Flye
             and
             in
             a
             Chrystal
             Brook
             :
          
           
             Or
             tho
             in
             muddled
             Streams
             y'
             are
             forc'd
             to
             cast
             ,
          
           
             Yet
             still
             the
             finer
             ,
             you
             succeed
             the
             best
             .
          
           
             Fineness
             in
             Angling
             's
             th'
             Anglers
             nearest
             Rule
             ;
          
           
             Tho
             Prudence
             still
             must
             regulate
             in
             all
             .
          
           
             For
             Wise
             Men
             will
             not
             trust
             a
             single
             Hair
          
           
             With
             Weight
             ,
             which
             dead
             ,
             it
             could
             not
             easily
             bear
             .
          
        
         
           
             If
             then
             with
             Natural
             Flies
             to
             fish
             you
             chuse
             ,
          
           
             Observe
             the
             Season
             ,
             and
             provide
             for
             Use.
          
           
             Observe
             the
             Fish
             ,
             as
             round
             for
             Prey
             they
             rove
             ,
          
           
             And
             gain
             your
             Baits
             where
             best
             they
             seem
             to
             love
             .
          
           
             For
             search
             all
             Nature
             ,
             and
             this
             Truth
             you
             'll
             find
             ,
          
           
             Variety
             ,
             the
             Mistress
             of
             Mankind
             ,
          
           
             Is
             not
             to
             Species
             or
             to
             Sex
             confin'd
             .
          
        
         
           
             But
             if
             the
             Artificial
             you
             'd
             prepare
             ,
          
           
             First
             well
             to
             make
             them
             use
             your
             utmost
             care
             :
          
           
           
             Some
             Brother
             Angler
             freely
             will
             impart
          
           
             The
             useful
             Ni●●ties
             throughout
             the
             Art.
          
           
             And
             Verse
             nor
             Prose
             can
             ever
             teach
             you
             well
             ,
          
           
             What
             Masters
             well
             ,
             but
             Practice
             best
             will
             tell
             .
          
           
             Only
             at
             large
             the
             Muse
             may
             thus
             exhort
             ;
          
           
             Nature
             best
             mimick'd
             ,
             best
             secures
             your
             Sport.
          
           
             Of
             Flies
             the
             Kinds
             ,
             their
             Seasons
             ,
             and
             their
             Breed
             ,
          
           
             Their
             Shapes
             ,
             their
             He●
             ,
             (
             which
             nicest
             Observation
             need
             .
             )
          
           
             Which
             best
             the
             Trout
             admi●es
             ,
             where
             easiest
             gain'd
          
           
             Experience
             best
             will
             teach
             too
             ,
             or
             your
             Friend
             .
          
           
             For
             several
             kinds
             must
             every
             Month
             supply
             :
          
           
             (
             So
             great
             's
             his
             Passion
             for
             Variety
             .
             )
          
           
             Nay
             ,
             if
             new
             Species
             o're
             the
             Waves
             you
             find
             ,
          
           
             Try
             ,
             you
             'll
             acknowledge
             Fortune
             amply
             kind
             .
          
        
         
           
             The
             Flye
             ,
             the
             hardest
             Task
             ,
             thus
             learnt
             ,
             prepare
          
           
             To
             cast
             your
             Line
             distinguishingly
             fair
             .
          
           
             Cast
             oft
             ,
             till
             by
             Experience
             perfect
             made
             ,
          
           
             Your
             pains
             are
             in
             the
             sequel
             well
             repaid
             .
          
           
           
             If
             on
             the
             Surface
             first
             your
             Line
             should
             light
             ,
          
           
             The
             Fish
             spring
             out
             ,
             nor
             soon
             recover
             the
             Affright
             .
          
           
             But
             if
             the
             Flye
             ,
             straight
             for
             a
             quick
             Surprize
             ,
          
           
             The
             greedy
             Wantons
             scarce
             prepare
             to
             rise
             .
          
           
             If
             short
             he
             cuts
             ,
             next
             Throw
             be
             sure
             beware
             ;
          
           
             He
             saw
             too
             much
             ,
             the
             Angler
             stood
             too
             near
             .
          
           
             But
             keep
             your
             Shadow
             off
             the
             purling
             Stream
             ,
          
           
             And
             cast
             ,
             and
             long
             you
             cannot
             cast
             in
             vain
             .
          
           
             For
             if
             no
             obvious
             failure
             interpose
             ,
          
           
             You
             speed
             ,
             or
             will
             not
             speed
             in
             forty
             Throws
             .
          
           
             But
             if
             he
             thus
             exacts
             too
             weighty
             Pain
             ,
          
           
             And
             with
             less
             Art
             you
             would
             your
             Hopes
             obtain
             :
          
           
             Since
             all
             men
             Artists
             are
             not
             ,
             let
             it
             be
          
           
             Your
             choice
             the
             less
             precarious
             means
             to
             try
             .
          
           
             The
             Worm
             at
             no
             time
             can
             your
             Pleasures
             fail
             ,
          
           
             Unless
             the
             boundless
             Floods
             or
             Winds
             prevail
             ;
          
           
             Unless
             the
             Frosts
             have
             almost
             chain'd
             the
             Streams
             ,
          
           
             When
             dangerous
             Fevers
             would
             revile
             our
             pains
             .
          
           
             Here
             ,
             tho
             the
             Streams
             ,
             by
             whatsoever
             Cause
             ,
          
           
             Of
             Mills
             ,
             of
             Rains
             ,
             or
             Artful
             Overflows
             ,
          
           
           
             Prove
             Milky-white
             ,
             no
             balk
             ●ou
             need
             to
             fear
             ;
          
           
             For
             all
             is
             homelily
             destructive
             here
             .
          
           
             Thick
             Lines
             ,
             thick
             Rods
             ,
             Hooks
             answerably
             strong●
          
           
             And
             Worms
             of
             any
             sort
             ,
             as
             ill
             put
             on
             .
          
           
             The
             troubled
             Streams
             the
             treach'rous
             Lines
             disguise
             ,
          
           
             And
             he
             's
             betray'd
             by
             trusting
             to
             his
             Eyes
             .
          
           
             Thus
             while
             the
             Rogue
             without
             Precaution
             preys
             ,
          
           
             He
             's
             murder'd
             by
             the
             most
             unskilful
             ways
             .
          
           
             *
             Some
             to
             Ape
             Art
             ,
             a
             hollow
             Bullet
             take
             ,
          
           
             And
             of
             small
             things
             a
             mighty
             Pother
             make
             .
          
           
             Hook
             above
             hook
             they
             place
             ,
             exactly
             nice
             ,
          
           
             To
             prove
             Perpetual
             Motion
             no
             Devi●e
             .
          
           
             For
             if
             a
             moment
             still
             the
             Weight
             should
             lie
             ,
          
           
             Their
             Sport
             's
             not
             only
             spoil'd
             ,
             but
             their
             Philosophy●
          
           
             Thus
             needy
             Lads
             at
             
             Thames's
             fairest
             Bridge
             ,
          
           
             With
             Hosts
             of
             Lines
             the
             homel●
             Fry
             besiege●
          
           
             But
             with
             course
             humble
             Labour
             w●y
             should
             we
          
           
             Adjust
             our
             Sport
             by
             their
             Neces●ity
             ?
          
           
           
             With
             equal
             Justice
             we
             their
             careful
             Zeal
          
           
             Might
             Ape
             ,
             who
             on
             the
             rough
             Dee
             attempt
             the
             †
             Corricle
             .
          
           
             Struggling
             with
             Force
             too
             high
             for
             Human
             Blood
             ,
          
           
             The
             Curse
             of
             Want
             ,
             and
             an
             impetuous
             Flood
             ,
          
           
             Seeking
             with
             Life's
             Distress
             their
             Livelihood
             .
          
           
             Such
             things
             we
             rather
             justly
             call
             Distress
             ;
          
           
             For
             how
             agrees
             it
             with
             the
             Name
             of
             Ease
             ?
          
           
             When
             a
             poor
             Countrey
             Hind
             a
             faithful
             Turn
          
           
             Partakes
             ,
             and
             bears
             the
             Boat
             by
             which
             he
             's
             born
             .
          
           
             Pleasure
             like
             this
             may
             suit
             their
             Rustick
             Souls
             :
          
           
             But
             neither
             suits
             the
             Poet's
             Verse
             or
             Rules
             .
          
           
             Somewhat
             uncommon
             heightens
             his
             Desire
             ,
          
           
             Which
             those
             that
             love
             not
             ,
             may
             with
             Force
             admire
             .
          
           
             Thus
             I
             to
             Chrystal
             Brooks
             resort
             ,
             and
             chuse
          
           
             Arms
             all
             Genteel
             and
             Neat
             ,
             and
             fit
             for
             Use.
          
           
             A
             Taper
             Rod
             ,
             and
             long
             ,
             tho
             neatly
             light
             ;
          
           
             Bending
             by
             no
             means
             with
             its
             proper
             weight
             :
          
           
           
             Lines
             longer
             too
             ,
             yet
             Taper
             ;
             and
             if
             e're
             ,
          
           
             'T
             is
             now
             that
             I
             prefer
             the
             single
             Hair.
          
           
             Small
             too
             your
             Hooks
             should
             be
             ,
             and
             cover'd
             well
          
           
             Above
             the
             Arming
             by
             the
             Brandling's
             Tail
             ;
          
           
             His
             head
             dejected
             best
             the
             Fish
             invites
             ,
          
           
             And
             mutualizes
             best
             your
             choice
             Delights
             .
          
           
             For
             he
             that
             prudently
             this
             way
             will
             try
             ,
          
           
             And
             Angles
             fine
             ,
             as
             when
             we
             use
             the
             Flye
             ,
          
           
             Traversing
             up
             again
             the
             Chrystal
             Streams
             ,
          
           
             Will
             ne're
             lament
             expended
             Time
             or
             Pains
             .
          
           
             This
             way
             the
             Caddice
             too
             deserves
             your
             Care
             ,
          
           
             And
             some
             with
             reason
             too
             the
             Float
             prepare
             :
          
           
             This
             they
             proportion
             to
             the
             Brook
             and
             Stream
             ;
          
           
             Little
             ,
             if
             clear
             and
             slow
             ;
             if
             swift
             ,
             less
             fine
             .
          
           
             Tho
             all
             things
             else
             should
             neat
             and
             taper
             be
             ,
          
           
             And
             fine
             ,
             if
             not
             finer
             than
             with
             which
             you
             try
          
           
             Your
             fortune
             with
             the
             Artificial
             Fly.
          
           
             Thus
             he
             tha●
             justly
             plays
             the
             Angler's
             part
             ,
          
           
             In
             my
             opinion
             still
             should
             thrive
             by
             Art.
          
           
           
             And
             trust
             his
             Skill
             ,
             tho
             oft
             he
             be
             deceiv'd
             ,
          
           
             The
             Conquest
             will
             at
             last
             be
             well
             atchiev'd
             .
          
           
             Less
             artful
             ways
             no
             doubt
             will
             much
             prevail
             .
          
           
             The
             Mennow
             ,
             Lobworm
             ,
             Stone-loach
             never
             fail
             .
          
           
             But
             these
             are
             common
             ways
             ,
             which
             all
             men
             teach
             ,
          
           
             And
             therefore
             far
             beneath
             the
             Muses
             reach
             .
          
           
             She
             sings
             in
             Verse
             ,
             which
             ,
             tho
             like
             Marum
             low
             ,
          
           
             Sends
             Strength
             and
             Pleasure
             to
             the
             Studious
             Brow.
          
           
             Those
             who
             peruse
             her
             with
             attentive
             Heat
             ,
          
           
             Will
             find
             her
             wondrous
             Chaste
             ,
             and
             wondrous
             sweet
             .
          
           
             Come
             ye
             ,
             who
             grandeur
             court
             ,
             and
             call
             it
             Ease
             ,
          
           
             Like
             sickly
             Souls
             ,
             fond
             of
             mistaken
             Joys
             ;
          
           
             Come
             on
             ,
             for
             boldly
             I
             'll
             your
             utmost
             dare
             .
          
           
             Match
             me
             a
             Landskip
             just
             as
             this
             ,
             and
             fa●●●
          
           
             From
             Noise
             and
             Hurries
             free
             ,
             we
             sport
             our
             fill
             ;
          
           
             Nor
             gain
             our
             Ends
             by
             Methods
             basely
             ill
             .
          
           
             No
             flatt'ring
             Fop
             ,
             no
             fawning
             Courtier
             here
          
           
             Disturbs
             our
             Peace
             ,
             or
             fosters
             Civil
             War.
          
           
             Nature's
             our
             Mistress
             ,
             who
             can
             bear
             a
             Look
             ,
          
           
             Nor
             fears
             a
             Lover's
             Censure
             or
             Rebuke
             .
          
           
           
             Look
             on
             those
             Hills
             ,
             tho
             high
             ,
             the
             Rural
             Swain
          
           
             Visits
             with
             Joy
             ,
             nor
             fears
             his
             Aching
             Brain
             .
          
           
             Or
             let
             's
             descend
             .
             Heav'ns
             !
             how
             severely
             Nice
          
           
             Proud
             Caelia
             in
             her
             tatter●d
             Mantua
             is
             ?
          
           
             Painted
             and
             patch'd
             ,
             hiring
             with
             what
             she
             's
             hir'd
             .
          
           
             She
             damns
             her
             Soul
             to
             have
             her
             Face
             admir'd
             .
          
           
             While
             Beauty
             here
             in
             Native
             Splendor
             reigns
             ,
          
           
             Requires
             our
             Wonder
             ,
             and
             explodes
             our
             Pains
             .
          
           
             Each
             healthful
             Green
             ,
             each
             flowry
             fragrant
             Mead
          
           
             Command
             our
             Praise
             ,
             since
             they
             our
             Art
             exceed
             .
          
           
             Here
             are
             fair
             Streams
             too
             ,
             full
             of
             fresh
             delight
             ,
          
           
             And
             Willows
             more
             than
             lovely
             to
             the
             sight
             :
          
           
             Since
             thence
             the
             Angler
             by
             a
             wise
             deceit
          
           
             Hawls
             the
             Strong
             Captive
             from
             his
             lov●d
             Retreat
             .
          
           
             Nor
             do
             those
             Falls
             the
             Ear
             ,
             those
             Meads
             the
             Eye
          
           
             Offend
             :
             Nor
             do
             those
             Fish
             that
             leap
             so
             high
             ,
          
           
             They
             seem
             resolv'd
             to
             populate
             the
             Air
             ,
          
           
             And
             hold
             conjunction
             with
             their
             Brother
             Star.
          
           
             Ah!
             happy
             they
             ,
             who
             free
             from
             Vice
             and
             Care
             ,
          
           
             With
             wise
             Content
             improve
             their
             Moments
             here
             :
          
           
           
             Free
             from
             the
             Vices
             of
             the
             Noisy
             Town
             ,
          
           
             Who
             study
             thus
             and
             here
             to
             lose
             their
             own
             .
          
        
         
           
             Go
             on
             my
             Muse
             ;
             next
             let
             thy
             Numbers
             speak
          
           
             That
             mighty
             Nimrod
             of
             the
             Streams
             ,
             the
             Pike
             .
          
           
             For
             justly
             next
             may
             he
             thy
             Verse
             command
             ,
          
           
             Who
             sways
             the
             Streams
             ,
             and
             hardly
             yields
             on
             Land.
          
           
             O
             Anglers
             !
             here
             much
             Caution
             use
             and
             Care
             ;
          
           
             If
             once
             thy
             Bait
             he
             gorge
             ,
             alas
             !
             beware
             .
          
           
             Thy
             Rod
             ,
             thy
             Lines
             ,
             thy
             Hooks
             ,
             are
             all
             too
             small
             ;
          
           
             The
             Tyrant's
             strong
             ,
             and
             rudely
             forces
             all
             .
          
           
             Hast
             thou
             not
             seen
             a
             Vessel
             richly
             fraught
             ,
          
           
             Returning
             home
             ,
             big
             with
             the
             Wealth
             sh
             'as
             got
             ,
          
           
             Just
             on
             the
             Coast
             snapp'd
             by
             some
             Privateer
             ,
          
           
             Himself
             the
             Prize
             of
             some
             big
             Man
             of
             War.
          
           
             Such
             oft
             ,
             alas
             !
             has
             been
             my
             own
             defeat
             ,
          
           
             My
             boasted
             Prize
             has
             only
             been
             the
             Bait
             ,
          
           
             That
             hasten'd
             on
             an
             unprevented
             Cheat.
          
           
             For
             as
             the
             French
             whole
             Countries
             first
             deface
             ,
          
           
             And
             then
             Inhuman
             Contributions
             Raise●
          
           
           
             So
             Tyrant
             like
             he
             makes
             my
             Loss
             his
             Play
             ,
          
           
             Leaves
             not
             my
             Prize
             ,
             but
             forces
             all
             away
             .
          
           
             Which
             to
             Revenge
             (
             for
             no
             Man
             can
             provide
          
           
             'Gainst
             chance
             ,
             by
             Human
             Reason
             unespy'd
             )
          
           
             A
             stiff
             neat
             Nine-foot
             Pole
             you
             must
             prepare
             ,
          
           
             Which
             may
             in
             several
             things
             repay
             your
             care
             .
          
           
             Whether
             your
             strugling
             prize
             your
             Caution
             Ask
             ,
          
           
             And
             Landing-Nets
             Fix'd
             to
             't
             facilitate
             your
             Task
             :
          
           
             Or
             by
             fix'd
             Rings
             you
             further
             this
             design
             ,
          
           
             By
             casting
             finely
             out
             your
             Bait
             and
             Line
             ,
          
           
             It
             useful
             is
             ;
             and
             here
             so
             needful
             too
             ,
          
           
             Want
             it
             you
             mayn't
             ,
             y'
             are
             ruin'd
             if
             you
             do
             .
          
           
             With
             this
             have
             always
             Hooks
             securely
             Strong
             ,
          
           
             Well
             Wir'd
             ,
             and
             join'd
             to
             Lines
             sufficiently
             Long.
          
           
             A
             Dace
             ,
             a
             Gudgeon
             ,
             or
             a
             Stone-Loach
             take
             ;
          
           
             Or
             wanting
             these
             ,
             some
             happy
             trial
             make
          
           
             Of
             something
             else
             of
             the
             less
             usual
             kind
             ,
          
           
             As
             Frogs
             ,
             or
             Eels
             ,
             or
             Garbidge
             ;
             for
             you
             'll
             ●ind
          
           
             His
             greedy
             Appetite
             will
             leave
             your
             doubts
             behind
             .
          
           
           
             Baited
             with
             these
             you
             need
             not
             fear
             your
             Prize
             .
          
           
             True
             Glutton-like
             his
             Stomach
             rules
             his
             Eyes
             .
          
           
             Oft
             I
             at
             Swallows
             sweeping
             o're
             the
             Stream
          
           
             Have
             seen
             him
             Snap
             ,
             and
             Baulk'd
             ,
             advance
             again
             .
          
           
             Which
             shews
             ,
             that
             if
             your
             Lines
             be
             wisely
             strong
             ,
          
           
             Without
             success
             you
             cannot
             tempt
             him
             long
             .
          
           
             Perhaps
             the
             day
             is
             hot
             ,
             no
             breeze
             of
             Wind
          
           
             Is
             to
             your
             hope
             and
             vain
             endeavours
             kind
             :
          
           
             Rise
             early
             then
             ,
             or
             try
             your
             Fortune
             late
             ;
          
           
             Or
             else
             till
             more
             auspicious
             Minutes
             wait
             .
          
           
             When
             keener
             Winds
             from
             any
             quarter
             blow
             .
          
           
             The
             Tyrant
             hardly
             waits
             a
             Second
             throw
             .
          
           
             But
             when
             you
             feel
             him
             pull
             ,
             ah
             then
             be
             wise
             ;
          
           
             For
             want
             of
             patience
             never
             lose
             your
             Prize
             .
          
           
             A
             little
             swallowing
             time
             and
             you're
             secure
             ;
          
           
             He
             rarely
             leaves
             his
             Prize
             ,
             or
             quits
             his
             Pow'r
             .
          
           
             But
             if
             the
             Streams
             you
             use
             are
             thinly
             stor'd
             ,
          
           
             And
             therefore
             small
             's
             the
             pastime
             they
             afford
             ,
          
           
             Methods
             more
             fatal
             you
             may
             wisely
             try
             ;
          
           
             Methods
             such
             force
             should
             only
             justify
             .
          
           
           
             However
             ,
             as
             they
             bear
             the
             term
             of
             Art
          
           
             To
             teach
             them
             is
             the
             Muses
             pow'r
             a●●
             part
             .
          
           
             First
             then
             prepare
             a
             Taper
             handsome
             Pole
             ,
          
           
             Long
             ,
             if
             not
             somewhat
             longer
             tha●
             the
             Trowle
             ;
          
           
             Not
             thick
             ,
             but
             such
             as
             you
             may
             easily
             use
             ,
          
           
             Such
             as
             ●or
             Hunting
             those
             who
             chuse
             it
             chuse
             .
          
           
             To
             this
             a
             thin
             ,
             but
             strong
             well
             twisted
             Line
             ,
          
           
             And
             Hooks
             ,
             both
             Large
             and
             fit
             for
             your
             design
             ,
          
           
             Fix
             :
             And
             when
             Baited
             ,
             if
             you
             chance
             to
             fail
             ,
          
           
             Some
             strange
             mysterious
             fortune
             must
             prevail
             .
          
           
             By
             often
             bobbing
             down
             your
             well-fix'd
             Bait
             ,
          
           
             In
             any
             place
             likely
             for
             his
             Retreat
             ,
          
           
             You
             tempt
             him
             rashly
             to
             renou●ce
             his
             Eyes
             ,
          
           
             And
             if
             your
             Tackling
             hold
             ,
             he
             's
             sure
             your
             Prize
             .
          
           
             Nay
             though
             the
             Noise
             the
             Tyrant
             only
             hears
             ,
          
           
             He
             's
             summon'd
             ,
             and
             undoubtedly
             appears
             .
          
           
             So
             that
             if●
             all
             along
             the
             Banks
             you
             try
             ,
          
           
             And
             yet
             succeed
             not
             ,
             you
             may
             safely
             cry
             ,
          
           
             These
             happy
             Streams
             are
             free
             from
             Tyranny
             .
          
           
           
             This
             way
             too
             almost
             all
             things
             he
             'll
             devour
             ,
          
           
             Raw
             Flesh
             or
             Guts
             ,
             are
             Fish
             without
             your
             pow'r
             .
          
           
             Nay
             some
             ,
             whose
             Mistress
             was
             necessity
             ,
          
           
             By
             Bloody
             Rags
             have
             wrought
             his
             Destiny
             .
          
           
             But
             still
             ,
             if
             clear
             t●e
             day
             ,
             keep
             far
             from
             sight
             ;
          
           
             Quick-ey'd
             he
             is
             ,
             a●●
             quickly
             shuns
             the
             White
          
           
             In
             spight
             of
             Anger
             ,
             ●●ase
             ,
             or
             Appetite
             .
          
           
             Sometimes
             the
             wretches
             ,
             who
             for
             Lucre
             slave
          
           
             With
             Snares
             and
             Night-Hooks
             seem
             the
             Stream
             to
             pave
             .
          
           
             But
             s●ill
             the
             Angler
             should
             such
             Tricks
             defy
             :
          
           
             His
             end
             is
             Pleasure
             ,
             Theirs
             Necessity
             .
          
           
             However
             ,
             if
             he
             see
             af●r
             a
             Prize
          
           
             Beaking
             at
             La●ge
             ,
             if
             then
             his
             luck
             he
             tries
             ,
          
           
             And
             halter
             som●●●●●
             fry
             to
             ●empt
             him
             to
             ;
          
           
             Here
             is
             true
             〈…〉
             will
             allow
             .
          
           
             But
             poaching
             〈◊〉
             ,
             t●●t
             the
             Game
             destroy
             ,
          
           
             A●●●●ither
             ●pa●●
             the
             〈◊〉
             nor
             the
             Fry
             ,
          
           
             Sho●●d
             othe●●i●e
             employ
             〈◊〉
             Muses
             Strain
             ;
          
           
             But
             that
             the
             Whipping-Posts
             were
             rais'd
             for
             them
             .
          
           
           
             Were
             I
             ,
             who
             only
             thus
             could
             wish
             to
             be
          
           
             Above
             my
             best
             ,
             my
             own
             ,
             my
             lov'd
             Degree
             ,
          
           
             (
             And
             thus
             to
             wish
             sure
             Reason
             will
             allow
             ,
          
           
             Since
             
             Roman-like
             I
             could
             resume
             my
             Plow
             ,
          
           
             And
             mildly
             lay
             those
             gawdy
             Grandeurs
             down
             ,
          
           
             Justice
             and
             slighted
             Truth
             restor'd
             to
             Rome
             )
             .
          
           
             Were
             I
             ,
             that
             long
             not
             for
             't
             ,
             to
             State
             preferr'd
             ,
          
           
             Some
             County
             and
             its
             Peace
             my
             trusted
             Ward
             ,
          
           
             This
             care
             ,
             however
             low
             ,
             however
             mean
             ,
          
           
             Should
             not
             escape
             my
             Eye
             ,
             as
             now
             my
             Pen.
          
           
             Why
             should
             the
             niggard
             Magistrate
             pretend
          
           
             To
             Charity
             ?
             When
             ,
             should
             we
             search
             the
             End
             ,
          
           
             You
             'll
             find
             ,
             false
             Hypocrite
             !
             the
             Lame
             and
             Poor
          
           
             Begging
             and
             Starving
             at
             the
             Miser's
             Door
             .
          
           
             But
             while
             his
             Store
             escapes
             ,
             he
             thinks
             it
             best
             ,
          
           
             Acts
             be
             infring'd
             and
             Laws
             be
             long
             transgress'd
             .
          
           
             Besides
             no
             Sportsman
             he
             ,
             why
             should
             his
             care
          
           
             Extend
             to
             what
             his
             foolish
             Friends
             Admire
             .
          
           
             Not
             he
             ,
             let
             poor
             folks
             live
             upon
             the
             Spoil
             ;
          
           
             He
             saves
             his
             Coin
             ,
             and
             gains
             their
             Love
             the
             while
          
           
           
             But
             ,
             Mad-Man
             ,
             should
             we
             reason
             well
             and
             true
             ,
          
           
             How
             little
             worthy
             of
             your
             Place
             are
             you
             ?
          
           
             Are
             Laws
             that
             pass
             the
             Sanction
             of
             the
             Crown
             ,
          
           
             Are
             they
             such
             Play-things
             for
             a
             Country-Town
             ?
          
           
             Sure
             things
             so
             trifling
             ,
             of
             so
             little
             weight
          
           
             Can
             ne're
             deserve
             a
             Nations
             grave
             Debate
             .
          
           
             Howe're
             the
             Law
             thy
             Duty
             makes
             ;
             though
             thou
          
           
             Vain
             Fool
             pretend'st
             thy
             Duty
             makes
             the
             Law.
          
           
             O
             mighty
             Manlius
             !
             how
             much
             amiss
          
           
             Was
             thine
             ,
             to
             what
             our
             Modern
             Justice
             is
             !
          
           
             Thou
             to
             the
             Laws
             paid'st
             such
             severe
             respect
             ,
          
           
             Thy
             own
             Son's
             Life
             aton'd
             for
             their
             Neglect
             .
          
           
             While
             we
             by
             Oaths
             and
             Int'rest
             doubly
             bound
          
           
             Secure
             the
             Guilty
             and
             the
             Guiltless
             wound
             .
          
           
             But
             stop
             my
             Muse
             ,
             for
             thy
             Satyrick
             Rage
          
           
             Must
             never
             hope
             to
             cure
             this
             vicious
             Age.
          
           
             Let
             other
             Men
             acquit
             their
             Duties
             there
             ,
          
           
             Do
             thou
             pursue
             thy
             Task
             ,
             and
             every
             where
          
           
             Strow
             Sweets
             ,
             that
             may
             the
             wandring
             Fops
             invite
             ,
          
           
             And
             freshen
             every
             Lover's
             Appetite
             .
          
           
           
             For
             Vrtue
             will
             have
             Charms
             ,
             though
             Fools
             despise
             ,
          
           
             To
             lure
             the
             wavering
             ,
             and
             to
             hold
             the
             Wise.
             
          
        
         
           
             Next
             Sing
             the
             Pearch
             ;
             for
             justly
             this
             he
             claims
             ,
          
           
             Lavishly
             kind
             to
             every
             Angler's
             pains
             .
          
           
             Others
             the
             Carp
             and
             Tench
             before
             him
             place
             ;
          
           
             But
             why
             ?
             Since
             there
             no
             equal
             sport
             he
             has
             .
          
           
             They
             Muddy
             Moats
             and
             Standing
             Waters
             love
             ,
          
           
             And
             rarely
             in
             the
             Chrystal
             Curren●●
             rove
             .
          
           
             Or
             when
             they
             do
             ,
             so
             nice
             they
             are
             ,
             so
             coy
             ,
          
           
             The
             Angler's
             skill
             and
             patience
             they
             defy
             .
          
           
             While
             This
             disdains
             their
             course
             and
             homely
             feed
             ,
          
           
             And
             bowing
             Flags
             prefers
             to
             stinking
             Weed
             .
          
           
             Fish
             where
             he
             is
             (
             and
             you
             will
             rarely
             find
          
           
             A
             Stream
             that
             has
             him
             not
             )
             he
             's
             always
             kind
             .
          
           
             In
             gentle
             Rains
             ,
             or
             after
             violent
             show'rs
             ,
          
           
             He
             roves
             ,
             it
             's
             true
             ,
             and
             eagerly
             devours
             ;
          
           
             And
             yet
             as
             true
             it
             is
             ,
             the
             violent
             heat
             ,
          
           
             But
             very
             rarely
             spoils
             his
             Appetite
             .
          
           
           
             Beneath
             impending
             Willows
             oft
             he
             lies
             ,
          
           
             Watchful
             to
             take
             ,
             or
             chewing
             on
             his
             Prize
             :
          
           
             Then
             tempt
             him
             warily
             he
             'll
             spring
             to
             bite
             ,
          
           
             So
             greedy
             he
             ,
             so
             vast
             his
             Appetite
             .
          
           
             Nor
             waits
             he
             seasons
             ,
             nor
             is
             ever
             coy
             ,
          
           
             No
             ,
             though
             forewarn'd
             he
             hardly
             can
             deny
             .
          
           
             Deep
             pits
             he
             loves
             too
             ,
             though
             you
             'll
             rareli'st
             fail
          
           
             Where
             deepest
             Eddies
             rapidly
             prevail
             .
          
           
             Yet
             soon
             in
             April
             after
             spawning
             Hours
             ,
          
           
             He
             haunts
             ,
             and
             freely
             bites
             upon
             the
             Scours
             .
          
           
             But
             large
             your
             Float
             should
             be
             ,
             your
             Tackling
             strong
             ,
          
           
             Nor
             must
             you
             think
             his
             slow
             digestion
             long
             .
          
           
             For
             ,
             if
             he
             Bite
             ,
             his
             Prize
             he
             will
             not
             leave
             :
          
           
             'T
             is
             not
             his
             use
             or
             nature
             to
             deceive
             .
          
           
             Nor
             is
             his
             Palate
             delicate
             or
             nice
             ;
          
           
             He
             Kickshaws
             eats
             ,
             but
             nothing
             comes
             amiss
             :
          
           
             Though
             yet
             some
             difference
             you
             may
             wisely
             make
             ,
          
           
             And
             best
             to
             tempt
             him
             ,
             Worms
             or
             Mennows
             take●
          
           
           
             These
             he
             will
             never
             slight
             ;
             and
             if
             wild
             Fame
          
           
             Say
             true
             ,
             the
             Lobworms
             easiest
             conquest
             gain
             .
          
           
             Though
             if
             my
             weak
             Opinion
             might
             prevail
             ,
          
           
             In
             Marshy
             Meadows
             ,
             Angler
             ,
             never
             fail
          
           
             To
             search
             the
             Cowdung
             for
             the
             Blewish
             Tail
             :
          
           
             These
             ,
             tho'
             new
             taken
             from
             their
             homely
             Soil
             ,
          
           
             By
             my
             Experience
             far
             all
             else
             excel
             .
          
           
             Though
             when
             misfortune
             all
             my
             hopes
             has
             cross'd
             ,
          
           
             And
             all
             my
             Baits
             were
             either
             spent
             or
             lost
             ;
          
           
             Fruitful
             Necessity
             this
             change
             has
             wrought
             ,
          
           
             And
             to
             my
             aid
             this
             useful
             Knowledge
             brought
             ;
          
           
             Some
             little
             part
             of
             my
             least
             valu'd
             Prize
             ,
          
           
             Has
             furnish'd
             out
             most
             fortunate
             Supplies
             .
          
           
             The
             Roach
             or
             Dace
             in
             little
             pieces
             cut
             ,
          
           
             And
             on
             the
             Hook
             with
             careful
             safety
             put
             ,
          
           
             Have
             wi●h
             unthought
             advantage
             slaughter'd
             more
          
           
             Than
             all
             the
             lost
             Preparatives
             before
             .
          
           
             Nor
             was
             this
             trial
             trivially
             bless'd
             ,
          
           
             For
             Pike
             and
             Chub
             have
             strenuously
             prest
          
           
             To
             force
             the
             liquorish
             bit
             before
             the
             rest●
          
           
           
             Thus
             other
             Baits
             ingenious
             Souls
             may
             try
             ,
          
           
             And
             owe
             great
             things
             to
             Curiosity
             .
          
           
             Things
             which
             may
             set
             aloft
             his
             Angling
             Name
             ,
          
           
             With
             those
             who
             court
             so
             much
             the
             breath
             of
             Fame
             .
          
           
             For
             tell
             me
             ,
             Muse
             ,
             by
             whom
             the
             Virtuous
             live
             ,
          
           
             How
             lasting
             are
             the
             Bays
             that
             Poets
             give
             ?
          
           
             How
             long
             shall
             
             Guttemberg's
             admired
             Name
          
           
             Survive
             and
             load
             the
             flagging
             wings
             of
             Fame
             ?
          
           
             Brave
             Guttemberg
             ,
             who
             first
             the
             secret
             found
          
           
             To
             compass
             Ages
             in
             a
             Paper
             wound
             .
          
           
             Or
             what
             compare
             we
             if
             our
             Reason's
             nigh
          
           
             To
             Monte
             Regio's
             Eagle
             or
             his
             Fly.
          
           
             Or
             to
             conclude
             an
             endless
             Theme
             ,
             and
             raise
          
           
             Just
             Trophies
             to
             Divine
             Invention's
             praise
             ;
          
           
             Tell
             me
             how
             Iubal
             first
             the
             Myst'ry
             found
          
           
             To
             strengthen
             Numbers
             ,
             and
             to
             order
             Sound
             .
          
           
             The
             lab'ring
             Anvils
             first
             their
             force
             declare
             ,
          
           
             And
             wound
             for
             want
             of
             pow'r
             to
             charm
             the
             Ear.
          
           
             Then
             on
             his
             Harp
             their
             Forces
             he
             essay'd
             ,
          
           
             And
             from
             the
             feather'd
             Quire
             discov●ries
             made
             .
          
           
           
             Thencest
             arted
             Number
             ,
             and
             thence
             Harmony
             ;
          
           
             Descant
             from
             thence
             ,
             and
             after
             Symetry
             :
          
           
             O
             Sacred
             Science
             !
             early
             from
             above
          
           
             Taught
             ,
             where
             their
             Souls
             are
             ever
             tun'd
             to
             Love
             :
          
           
             Thee
             Angels
             practice
             ;
             thee
             ,
             poor
             we
             below
             ,
          
           
             By
             thy
             infinity
             can
             only
             know
             .
          
           
             And
             just
             it
             is
             thou
             should'st
             his
             signet
             bear
             ,
          
           
             Who
             reigns
             above
             ,
             and
             justly
             fix'd
             thee
             there
             .
          
           
             Whence
             thy
             vast
             charms
             we
             by
             faint
             glimmering
             know
             ;
          
           
             So
             high
             is
             Heaven
             ,
             and
             humble
             Earth
             so
             low
             .
          
           
             And
             thou
             who
             doubt'st
             the
             great
             Authority
          
           
             To
             her
             ascrib'd
             ,
             the
             Sacred
             Volumes
             see
             .
          
           
             There
             thou'lt
             perceive
             the
             Son
             of
             mighty
             Love
             ,
          
           
             In
             Musicks
             sounds
             descending
             from
             above
             ;
          
           
             And
             Pain
             and
             Sickness
             exquisitely
             fly
             ,
          
           
             The
             all-dissolving
             force
             of
             Harmony
             .
          
           
             But
             soft
             ,
             you
             'll
             cry
             ,
             perhaps
             ,
             let
             's
             justly
             weigh
          
           
             Your
             Arguments
             ,
             and
             the
             whole
             Truth
             survey
             :
          
           
           
             Reason
             you
             'll
             find
             on
             a
             fair
             scrutiny
             ,
          
           
             Condemns
             no
             part
             but
             the
             whole
             History
             .
          
           
             And
             those
             Old
             Chinese
             Tales
             which
             first
             begin
             ;
          
           
             But
             force
             the
             credit
             of
             those
             worse
             within
             .
          
           
             Come
             then
             ,
             ye
             Fools
             ,
             and
             if
             ye
             can
             evince
             ,
          
           
             For
             things
             of
             common
             Reason
             ,
             common
             Sence
             ;
          
           
             Say
             why
             ye
             Classick
             Truths
             so
             soon
             allow
             ,
          
           
             And
             talk
             of
             
               Caesar
               ,
               Pompey
            
             ,
             Heav'n
             knows
             who
             ?
          
           
             How
             know
             ye
             Nero
             Rul'd
             ?
             Or
             how
             that
             Rome
          
           
             Once
             held
             the
             Sovereign
             Reins
             ,
             all
             Europe
             in
             a
             Town
             ?
          
           
             This
             on
             Tradition
             you
             can
             safely
             take
             ;
          
           
             But
             fail'd
             ,
             by
             Reason
             ye
             distinctions
             make
             ;
          
           
             Where
             greater
             reasons
             ,
             Truths
             that
             cannot
             dye
             ,
          
           
             Require
             our
             Faith
             ,
             command
             Authority
             .
          
           
             Might
             I
             ,
             whom
             close
             endearments
             nearly
             tie
             ,
          
           
             Might
             I
             advise
             my
             Delius
             he
             should
             fly
             ,
          
           
             Fly
             far
             the
             treach'rous
             Poisons
             ,
             fair
             Deceits
             ,
          
           
             With
             which
             each
             florid
             Fool
             his
             Nonsence
             Baits
             .
          
           
           
             For
             though
             but
             barely
             probable
             they
             were
             ,
          
           
             How
             can
             our
             Reason
             with
             blind
             Fortune
             share
             ?
          
           
             Or
             how
             can
             it
             consist
             with
             Sence
             or
             Wit
             ,
          
           
             For
             Human
             things
             such
             mighty
             hopes
             to
             slight
             ?
          
           
             Not
             true
             ,
             he
             nothing
             loses
             ,
             if
             they
             be
          
           
             A
             boundless
             Bliss
             of
             Bless'd
             Eternity
             .
          
        
         
           
             The
             
             Barbel's
             next
             in
             Sport
             ,
             though
             not
             in
             Kind
             ,
          
           
             For
             few
             there
             are
             in
             goodness
             come
             behind
             .
          
           
             But
             sport
             ,
             the
             Angler's
             aim
             ,
             has
             plac'd
             him
             here
             ;
          
           
             And
             when
             he
             finds
             him
             ,
             sport
             he
             need
             not
             fear
             .
          
           
             Close
             at
             a
             Current's
             end
             he
             's
             sure
             to
             lie
             ,
          
           
             Low
             in
             the
             Streams
             ,
             as
             the
             swift
             Trout
             runs
             high
             .
          
           
             True
             River-Hog
             ,
             upon
             the
             Sand
             he
             roots
             ,
          
           
             And
             like
             him
             then
             all
             things
             occasion
             suits
             .
          
           
             Lobworms
             well
             scour'd
             ,
             rarely
             or
             never
             fail
             ;
          
           
             But
             then
             e'en
             Bees
             or
             Garbidge
             will
             prevail
             .
          
           
             And
             if
             you
             early
             to
             your
             Pastime
             high
             ,
          
           
             He
             's
             hungry
             ,
             and
             devours
             more
             eagerly
             .
          
           
           
             Though
             when
             the
             Winds
             a
             little
             curl
             the
             Waves
             ,
          
           
             Much
             caution
             and
             much
             patience
             too
             he
             saves
             .
          
           
             For
             common
             caution
             must
             be
             still
             your
             own
             ;
          
           
             You
             know
             him
             large
             ,
             and
             you
             will
             find
             him
             strong
             .
          
           
             Therefore
             large
             Lines
             and
             Hooks
             you
             must
             prepare
             ;
          
           
             He
             's
             bold
             ,
             and
             does
             not
             any
             danger
             fear
             .
          
           
             Nay
             ,
             Packthred-like
             ,
             no
             obstacle
             is
             found
             ,
          
           
             If
             your
             fair
             Bait
             trail
             gently
             o're
             the
             ground
             .
          
           
             And
             high'r
             he
             rises
             not
             ,
             unless
             delight
          
           
             Force
             him
             to
             wanton
             ;
             when
             ,
             he
             will
             not
             Bite
             .
          
           
             Nor
             till
             wet
             
             April's
             past
             ,
             his
             Spawning
             time
             ,
          
           
             For
             then
             he
             's
             Sick
             ,
             and
             blasts
             your
             whole
             design
             :
          
           
             But
             if
             kind
             Fortune
             at
             some
             Current's
             end
          
           
             Shows
             you
             clear
             Sands
             that
             by
             degrees
             descend
             ,
          
           
             Where
             some
             close
             Weeds
             his
             lab'ring
             Fins
             supply
             ,
          
           
             Or
             hanging
             Osiers
             shade
             the
             Sporting
             Fry
             ;
          
           
             Angler
             take
             courage
             ,
             every
             inch
             beware
             ,
          
           
             For
             ,
             if
             in
             all
             the
             Streams
             ,
             the
             Herd
             is
             there
             .
          
           
           
             Tempt
             not
             too
             evidently
             ,
             keep
             out
             of
             sight
             ,
          
           
             And
             rest
             assur'd
             ,
             like
             greedy
             Perch
             they
             'll
             Bite
             .
          
        
         
           
             Next
             sing
             the
             Ch●vin
             ,
             who
             is
             always
             found
             ,
          
           
             In
             quick
             deep
             Streams
             that
             run
             o're
             Marly
             ground
             .
          
           
             For
             though
             in
             Muddy
             Rivers
             much
             he
             preys
             ,
          
           
             Yet
             there
             he
             nicely
             seeks
             the
             Sands
             or
             Clays
             ;
          
           
             Or
             else
             the
             Bridge
             his
             safeguard
             is
             ,
             and
             haunts
          
           
             Where
             strength
             in
             tackle
             best
             his
             own
             supplants●
          
           
             For
             if
             he
             Bites
             (
             as
             if
             you
             caution
             use
             ,
          
           
             And
             tempt
             with
             Nature
             ,
             he
             will
             ne're
             refuse
             )
             :
          
           
             He
             's
             of
             his
             dangerous
             holds
             with
             ease
             bereav'd
             .
          
           
             And
             after
             some
             few
             flounces
             well
             deceiv'd
             .
          
           
             Here
             let
             your
             Hooks
             be
             large
             ,
             your
             Angle
             strong
             ,
          
           
             And
             strong
             your
             Lines
             ,
             though
             hardly
             half
             so
             long
             .
          
           
             For
             if
             for
             him
             alone
             your
             Skill
             you
             try
             ,
          
           
             Floats
             must
             be
             spar'd
             ,
             as
             when
             you
             use
             the
             Fly
             ,
          
           
             And
             gentle
             dabs
             must
             summon
             him
             on
             high
             :
          
           
             But
             then
             beware
             ,
             no
             Shadow
             ,
             no
             nor
             Noise
             ,
          
           
             For
             either
             he
             both
             fears
             ,
             and
             always
             flies
             .
          
           
           
             But
             if
             with
             caution
             you
             for
             sport
             prepare
             ,
          
           
             He
             Bites
             both
             all
             the
             day
             ,
             and
             every
             where
             .
          
           
             Oft
             beaking
             under
             shady
             Trees
             he
             lies
             ;
          
           
             And
             then
             ,
             if
             hid
             you
             are
             ,
             he
             'll
             freely
             rise
             .
          
           
             Or
             though
             your
             Rod
             have
             struck
             him
             with
             its
             shade
             ,
          
           
             Have
             patience
             ,
             and
             the
             Vertue
             's
             soon
             repaid
             .
          
           
             E'en
             Swallow's
             swooping
             o're
             the
             Chrystal
             main
          
           
             Fright
             him
             ,
             but
             soon
             the
             Coward
             mounts
             again
             .
          
           
             Oft
             I
             with
             Lobworms
             in
             a
             hasty
             Stream
          
           
             Have
             had
             vast
             sport
             ,
             without
             the
             least
             design
             .
          
           
             Yet
             still
             I
             found
             ,
             that
             as
             the
             day
             increas'd
             ,
          
           
             My
             sport
             grew
             less
             ,
             and
             nothing
             at
             the
             last
             .
          
           
             Yet
             still
             by
             other
             Baits
             I
             then
             have
             sped
             ;
          
           
             And
             other
             Baits
             true
             Anglers
             should
             not
             need
             ,
          
           
             The
             Dorr
             ,
             the
             Caterpiller
             ,
             Wasp
             ,
             or
             Bee
             ,
          
           
             Or
             Grashopper
             ,
             or
             Moth
             ,
             nay
             ,
             any
             Fly
          
           
             He
             'll
             take
             .
             Though
             yet
             if
             I
             may
             Bait
             might
             chuse
             ,
          
           
             If
             to
             be
             got
             ,
             I
             'd
             most
             the
             Mennow
             use
             ;
          
           
             For
             if
             the
             River's
             deep
             ,
             and
             Current
             strong
             ,
          
           
             Without
             success
             you
             cannot
             tempt
             him
             long
             .
          
           
           
             But
             then
             the
             Winds
             should
             somewhat
             too
             agree
             ,
          
           
             Unless
             your
             early
             Rise
             the
             want
             supply
             .
          
           
             F●r
             he
             's
             so
             idle
             in
             the
             mid-day
             Heat●
          
           
             He
             'll
             hardly
             try
             the
             most
             alluring
             Bait.
          
           
             But
             cool
             so
             well
             he
             loves
             ,
             that
             if
             you
             spare
          
           
             Him
             spawning
             March
             ,
             he
             'll
             bite
             throughout
             the
             year
             .
          
        
         
           
             The
             Bream
             ,
             less
             common
             ,
             so
             more
             rarely
             known
             ,
          
           
             Requires
             the
             Angler's
             Study
             next
             ,
             and
             Song
             .
          
           
             Nice
             to
             extremes
             ,
             his
             Minutes
             you
             must
             wait
             ,
          
           
             And
             early
             with
             the
             Sun
             ,
             or
             with
             the
             Moonshine
             late
             .
          
           
             Unless
             the
             Winds
             blow
             a
             fresh
             Mack'rel
             Gale
             ,
          
           
             And
             then
             of
             Sport
             all
             day
             you
             will
             not
             fail
             .
          
           
             With
             strong
             Silk
             Lines
             ,
             and
             Hooks
             just
             Gudgeon
             small
             ;
          
           
             Rods
             long
             and
             strong
             ,
             and
             Baits
             the
             chief
             of
             all
             ;
          
           
             Chuse
             some
             slow
             Stream
             ,
             in
             its
             own
             deepness
             black
             .
          
           
             And
             let
             your
             Float
             not
             two
             foot
             Water
             make
             :
          
           
             There
             is
             his
             haunt
             ,
             and
             if
             your
             Length
             permit
             ,
          
           
             Just
             in
             the
             middle
             of
             the
             gloomy
             Pit
          
           
           
             You
             'll
             find
             him
             roving
             ,
             and
             with
             ease
             divine
          
           
             T
             is
             he
             that
             flats
             your
             Float
             upon
             the
             Stream
             :
          
           
             He
             gorges
             then●
             a●●
             Angler●
             a●●
             beware
             :
          
           
             If
             large
             your
             Bait
             ,
             you
             must
             no
             Patience
             spare
             ;
          
           
             If
             small
             ,
             a
             little
             serves
             ;
             his
             mouth
             allows
          
           
             Of
             nothing
             large
             ;
             the
             less
             the
             better
             does
             .
          
           
             Therefore
             tho
             some
             the
             large
             scour'd
             Dew-worm
             chuse
             ,
          
           
             Do
             thou
             the
             Flag
             ,
             or
             well-scour'd
             Red-Worm
             use
             :
          
           
             He
             'll
             these
             with
             greedy
             Appetite
             devour
             ;
          
           
             And
             when
             he
             bites
             ,
             your
             Prize
             is
             always
             sure
             .
          
           
             But
             my
             Experience
             ever
             must
             prefer
          
           
             The
             small
             Red
             Dew-Worm
             ,
             if
             with
             pains
             and
             care
          
           
             Him
             first
             in
             Moss
             and
             Fennel
             you
             prepare
             .
          
           
             These
             he
             with
             passion
             loves
             ,
             they
             hold
             his
             eyes
             ,
          
           
             And
             suiting's
             mouth
             ,
             enlarge
             your
             Sport
             and
             Prize
             .
          
           
             For
             Flies
             and
             Pastes
             ,
             or
             other
             Baits
             I
             've
             found
          
           
             My
             Patience
             rarely
             with
             common
             Largess
             crown'd
             .
          
           
             And
             therefore
             leave
             the
             Angler
             there
             to
             try
          
           
             If
             he
             can
             purchase
             better
             Luck
             than
             I.
          
           
           
             Their
             Humours
             all
             things
             have
             .
             The
             Pike
             at
             Paste
          
           
             Has
             struck
             ,
             and
             for
             his
             Folly
             struck
             his
             last
             .
          
           
             In
             Iuly
             at
             his
             spawning
             ,
             I
             the
             Bream
          
           
             Have
             found
             most
             eager
             in
             a
             rapid
             Stream
             .
          
           
             Close
             at
             the
             bottom
             scouring
             there
             he
             lies
             ,
          
           
             And
             then
             will
             nibble
             any
             Bait
             he
             sees
             ;
          
           
             So
             diff'rent
             from
             all
             else
             his
             Nature
             is
             .
          
           
             But
             this
             is
             random
             Chance
             ,
             not
             worth
             a
             Line
             ,
          
           
             For
             nothing
             well
             he
             takes
             in
             spawning
             time
             .
          
           
             His
             Stomach
             's
             queasy
             then
             ,
             as
             in
             the
             rest
             ;
          
           
             And
             then
             the
             Angler
             wisely
             should
             desist
             .
          
           
             Perhaps
             sometimes
             your
             Line
             or
             Hooks
             appear
             ;
          
           
             Or
             else
             the
             Heats
             your
             Patience
             will
             require
             .
          
           
             But
             Patience
             is
             the
             Angler's
             first
             great
             Rule
             ,
          
           
             And
             Patience
             here
             has
             least
             of
             Ridicule
             .
          
           
             How
             does
             the
             fawning
             Courtier
             daily
             wait
             ,
          
           
             Or
             those
             who
             follow
             Law
             ,
             or
             Toys
             of
             State
             ?
          
           
             O
             Delius
             !
             by
             kind
             Fortune
             largely
             blest
             ,
          
           
             Let
             not
             the
             Cheats
             of
             Grandeur
             break
             they
             Rest.
          
           
           
             On
             Promises
             and
             Quicksands
             ne're
             depend
             ;
          
           
             Nor
             on
             a
             Lord
             ,
             though
             once
             thy
             seeming
             Friend
             .
          
           
             Honour
             no
             Claim
             allows
             :
             Alas
             !
             his
             State
          
           
             Commands
             his
             Promises
             he
             first
             forget
             .
          
           
             And
             where
             's
             the
             Statute
             that
             will
             ease
             afford
             ?
          
           
             Since
             Tom
             the
             Promise
             made
             ,
             and
             not
             
               My
               Lord.
            
          
           
             He
             quits
             past
             Friendship
             when
             he
             lofty
             grows
             ;
          
           
             And
             though
             he
             promise
             well
             ,
             their
             Strength
             he
             knows
             :
          
           
             For
             if
             you
             bring
             him
             for
             't
             to
             Equity
             ,
          
           
             His
             Party
             's
             strong
             ,
             and
             Privileges
             high
             .
          
           
             In
             my
             own
             business
             bless'd
             ,
             contented
             I
             ,
          
           
             Who
             Grandeur
             seek
             not
             ,
             and
             its
             Charms
             defy
             .
          
           
             E'en
             I
             unmov'd
             have
             heard
             a
             Statesman
             prate
          
           
             What
             mighty
             things
             he
             'd
             do
             ,
             what
             Favours
             get
             ,
          
           
             And
             never
             forfeited
             my
             Quiet
             yet
             .
          
           
             Nay
             more
             ,
             believe
             me
             ,
             Friend
             ,
             (
             for
             I
             have
             known
          
           
             Some
             Passages
             in
             Court
             as
             well
             as
             Town
             )
             ;
          
           
             Among
             the
             men
             whose
             Sacred
             Character
          
           
             Should
             harbour
             nothing
             but
             what
             's
             most
             sincere
             ;
          
           
           
             Friendship
             with
             great
             Prefermens's
             rarely
             known
             ,
          
           
             But
             ,
             Bucket-like
             ,
             this
             weighs
             the
             other
             down
             .
          
           
             For
             though
             Grave
             Blockheads
             cajole
             Men
             of
             Sense
             ,
          
           
             Their
             own
             dear
             Image
             have
             most
             Influence
             .
          
           
             Let
             then
             Preferment
             by
             Resemblance
             go
             ,
          
           
             It
             can't
             move
             me
             ,
             and
             with
             less
             reason
             you
             .
          
           
             You
             on
             Paternal
             Acres
             justly
             got
             ,
          
           
             May
             live
             ,
             and
             Great
             Men
             envy
             at
             your
             Lot
             :
          
           
             With
             a
             kind
             Partner
             of
             my
             Joys
             and
             Cares
             ,
          
           
             While
             freely
             I
             drill
             on
             Heav'ns
             bounteous
             years●
          
           
             With
             all
             my
             poor
             Endeavours
             fond
             to
             get
          
           
             An
             honest
             Name
             ,
             and
             moderate
             Estate
             .
          
           
             Let
             griping
             Codrus
             Pen
             and
             Paper
             save
             ,
          
           
             And
             for
             his
             Issue
             make
             himself
             a
             Slave
             :
          
           
             By
             cunning
             let
             him
             all
             his
             Deeds
             disguise
             ,
          
           
             And
             affect
             silence
             ,
             to
             be
             fanci'd
             wise
             :
          
           
             By
             Methods
             ill
             I
             'll
             purchase
             no
             Estate
             ,
          
           
             But
             Truth
             and
             Virtue
             love
             at
             any
             rate
             .
          
           
           
             Now
             from
             the
             Chrystal
             Brooks
             and
             Purling
             Streams
             ,
          
           
             Angler
             ,
             a
             while
             withdraw
             your
             careful
             Pains
             ;
          
           
             And
             to
             the
             Carp
             and
             Tench
             your
             Art
             apply
             ,
          
           
             Which
             love
             still
             Pits
             ,
             and
             Chrystal
             Currents
             fly
             :
          
           
             They
             all
             your
             Patience
             ,
             all
             your
             Strength
             require
             ;
          
           
             And
             though
             admir'd
             ,
             rarely
             your
             Baits
             admire
             .
          
           
             Sometimes
             in
             Rivers
             to
             your
             Lot
             they
             fall
             ;
          
           
             ●ut
             there
             's
             no
             Vigor
             where
             the
             Hopes
             are
             small
             .
          
           
             Man's
             Frailty's
             such
             ,
             that
             e'en
             in
             things
             Divine
             ,
          
           
             Kind
             Heaven
             by
             Crowns
             is
             forc'd
             to
             force
             him
             in
             .
          
           
             But
             in
             full
             Ponds
             your
             Sport
             you
             need
             not
             fear
             ,
          
           
             ●f
             Laziness
             be
             not
             your
             greater
             Care.
          
           
             For
             here
             to
             speed
             ,
             you
             with
             the
             Sun
             must
             rise
             ,
          
           
             And
             then
             the
             largest
             easiest
             are
             your
             Prize
             :
          
           
             Though
             if
             beyond
             the
             second
             Watch
             you
             stay
             ,
          
           
             The
             smallest
             only
             bite
             ,
             and
             hardly
             they
             :
          
           
             Of
             such
             vast
             moment
             is
             the
             Place
             and
             Time
             ,
          
           
             Your
             balking
             those
             oft
             balks
             your
             whole
             design
             .
          
           
           
             But
             first
             ,
             my
             Tyro
             ,
             of
             your
             Lines
             beware
             ,
          
           
             For
             Conquest
             is
             not
             to
             be
             slighted
             here
             :
          
           
             Tho
             little
             Circumspection
             will
             suffice
             ,
          
           
             Yet
             you
             must
             sweat
             before
             you
             gain
             your
             Prize
             :
          
           
             He
             's
             strong
             ,
             will
             struggle
             ,
             and
             unless
             prepar'd
             ,
          
           
             Your
             Conquest
             's
             doubtful
             ,
             and
             your
             Labour
             hard
             .
          
           
             Ponds
             weedy
             feed
             the
             Tench
             ,
             and
             that
             that
             's
             clear
          
           
             Best
             please
             the
             Carp
             ,
             but
             both
             for
             Mud
             declare
             .
          
           
             But
             in
             their
             Baits
             so
             closely
             they
             agree
             ,
          
           
             They
             feed
             just
             as
             they
             live
             ,
             promiscuously
             :
          
           
             Both
             love
             their
             Baits
             ,
             prepar'd
             with
             nicest
             Care
             ,
          
           
             And
             both
             best
             take
             'em
             vilely
             strong
             of
             Tar.
          
           
             Low
             at
             the
             bottom
             too
             i'
             th'
             deeps
             they
             lye
             ,
          
           
             And
             rarely
             ,
             very
             rarely
             feed
             on
             high
             :
          
           
             Tho
             oft
             the
             Carp
             in
             hottest
             Summer
             days
             ,
          
           
             While
             on
             the
             Surface
             wantonly
             he
             plays
             ,
          
           
             On
             Bread
             or
             Worms
             with
             eager
             Passion
             preys
             .
          
           
             But
             if
             your
             Rod
             or
             Self
             offend
             his
             ●ight
             ,
          
           
             He
             's
             gone
             ,
             and
             blasts
             at
             once
             your
             whole
             delight
             .
          
           
           
             He
             's
             humoursome
             at
             best
             ,
             Experience
             tells
             :
          
           
             For
             Season
             ,
             Place
             ,
             and
             Baits
             ,
             and
             all
             things
             else
          
           
             Justly
             agreeing
             ;
             I
             have
             one
             time
             slain
          
           
             Fourscore
             ,
             and
             at
             another
             hardly
             Ten
             :
          
           
             And
             yet
             the
             wondrous
             Myst'ry
             to
             explore
             ,
          
           
             A
             Net
             has
             largely
             paid
             the
             squander'd
             hour
             .
          
           
             Perhaps
             at
             Night
             they
             found
             some
             unknown
             Feed
             ,
          
           
             Or
             else
             the
             Soil
             dilated
             out
             their
             Breed
             :
          
           
             For
             though
             in
             May
             they
             usually
             spawn
             ,
          
           
             Some
             cast
             in
             April
             ,
             others
             say
             in
             Iune
             :
          
           
             Though
             Nature
             certainly
             may
             help
             receive
          
           
             From
             Soils
             ;
             and
             Waters
             may
             assistance
             give
             :
          
           
             For
             e'en
             in
             Human
             Bodies
             this
             we
             find
             ,
          
           
             Chang'd
             Climates
             to
             the
             barren
             have
             been
             kind
             ;
          
           
             And
             ,
             mew'd
             in
             Town
             ,
             an
             Heirless
             Loving
             Pair
          
           
             Have
             blest
             the
             Countrey
             ,
             and
             been
             ●ruitful
             there
             .
          
           
             Nature
             is
             Nature
             still
             .
             Next
             let
             us
             see
          
           
             What
             Baits
             should
             best
             the
             Angler's
             Art
             supply
             ;
          
           
             The
             largest
             Red-Worms
             highly
             some
             prefer
             ;
          
           
             And
             for
             the
             smallest
             I
             must
             needs
             declare
             .
          
           
           
             But
             have
             thou
             both
             ,
             and
             thou'lt
             the
             better
             speed
             ;
          
           
             For
             with
             success
             at
             once
             I
             both
             have
             tri'd
             :
          
           
             And
             though
             to
             th'
             side
             the
             small
             for
             refuge
             fly
             ,
          
           
             Thou
             in
             the
             middle
             more
             successfully
          
           
             Shalt
             fish
             ;
             for
             though
             their
             Sport
             's
             perhaps
             secure
             ,
          
           
             Thy
             Prize
             is
             larger
             ,
             and
             thy
             Glory
             more
             .
          
           
             Gentles
             and
             Cadbaits
             too
             some
             Sport
             may
             yield
             ,
          
           
             But
             yet
             the
             former
             justliest
             claim
             the
             field
             :
          
           
             And
             though
             for
             Pastes
             some
             mighty
             men
             declare
             ,
          
           
             I
             never
             found
             the
             Secret
             worth
             my
             Care.
          
           
             But
             still
             perhaps
             thou'
             rt
             for
             the
             Chrystal
             Streams
             ,
          
           
             And
             for
             the
             Prospect
             slight'st
             thy
             fruitless
             Pains
             :
          
           
             Fair
             purling
             Brooks
             ,
             by
             Meadows
             more
             than
             fair
             ,
          
           
             Are
             more
             your
             Choice
             than
             any
             Conquest
             here
             :
          
           
             Come
             then
             ,
             I
             'll
             tell
             thee
             ,
             if
             resolv'd
             to
             try
          
           
             That
             Patience
             which
             exceeds
             Philosophy
             ,
          
           
             I
             'll
             tell
             thee
             where
             's
             their
             likeliest
             Haunt
             ,
             and
             when
          
           
             They
             freeliest
             bite
             ,
             and
             easiest
             are
             ta'en
             .
          
           
             If
             for
             the
             Tench
             thou
             seek'st
             ,
             make
             it
             thy
             pains
          
           
             To
             find
             the
             deepest
             Pits
             in
             silent
             Streams
             :
          
           
           
             No
             Stream
             thy
             Float
             by
             any
             means
             should
             move
             ,
          
           
             But
             chuse
             the
             stillest
             place
             ,
             for
             such
             they
             love
             :
          
           
             Nor
             should
             the
             Breeze
             disturb
             thy
             well-tarr'd
             Bait
             ;
          
           
             Therefore
             both
             long
             and
             early
             thou
             should'st
             wait
          
           
             And
             if
             the
             Rivers
             fruitful
             are
             ,
             thou
             'lt
             find
          
           
             They
             Red-Worms
             love
             ,
             and
             are
             both
             free
             and
             kind
             .
          
           
             But
             if
             the
             Carp
             exacts
             thy
             greater
             pains
             ,
          
           
             Chuse
             still
             the
             deeps
             ,
             but
             in
             the
             gentle
             Streams
             .
          
           
             Just
             in
             the
             midst
             he
             never
             fails
             to
             move
             ,
          
           
             And
             Marsh
             and
             Flag-worms
             takes
             with
             eager
             love●
          
           
             Nor
             may'st
             thou
             well
             thy
             former
             Baits
             despise
             ,
          
           
             He
             'll
             never
             fail
             to
             take
             them
             when
             he
             sees
             :
          
           
             But
             still
             the
             early
             Morn
             ,
             or
             Evening
             late
             ,
          
           
             Will
             crown
             ,
             or
             make
             more
             probable
             thy
             Fate●
          
           
             Nor
             can
             I
             justly
             blame
             thy
             happy
             Choice
             ,
          
           
             So
             great
             my
             own
             ,
             my
             equal
             Passion
             is
             .
          
           
             Clear
             Streams
             have
             Charms
             which
             standing
             Waters
             want
             ,
          
           
             And
             Meads
             have
             beauties
             which
             the
             envious
             grant
             :
          
           
           
             But
             when
             they
             join
             ,
             as
             far
             they
             all
             excell
             ,
          
           
             As
             Maids
             their
             Lovers
             in
             dissembling
             well
             .
          
        
         
           
             Oh
             Friend
             !
             oh
             Friend
             !
             what
             Fortune
             's
             so
             Divine
             ,
          
           
             What
             Fate
             's
             so
             safe
             or
             sweet
             as
             that
             of
             thine
             ?
          
           
             Thou
             chear'st
             the
             Minutes
             ,
             as
             they
             glide
             along
             ,
          
           
             Unmov'd
             at
             all
             the
             Follies
             of
             the
             Young
             :
          
           
             Thou
             chear'st
             the
             Minutes
             ,
             for
             to
             thee
             they
             bear
          
           
             Scarce
             the
             minutest
             part
             of
             human
             Care
             :
          
           
             Thus
             by
             the
             Streams
             ,
             and
             there
             supinely
             laid
             ,
          
           
             With
             Thoughts
             for
             which
             Mankind
             was
             chiefly
             made
             :
          
           
             No
             Care
             ,
             no
             Mischief
             in
             thy
             worst
             Intent
             ,
          
           
             All
             ,
             like
             thy
             Recreation
             's
             innocent
             .
          
           
             Through
             Nature's
             Opticks
             thou
             dost
             wisely
             look
             ,
          
           
             And
             read'st
             thy
             Maker
             in
             the
             fairest
             Book
             .
          
        
         
           
             Next
             ,
             Muse
             ,
             the
             Roach
             ,
             (
             and
             less
             regarded
             Fry
             )
          
           
             Thy
             Work
             's
             e'en
             done
             ;
             for
             these
             no
             Industry
             ,
          
           
           
             No
             mighty
             Art
             ,
             no
             skilful
             Care
             require
             ;
          
           
             And
             Force
             it self
             would
             make
             Discov'ries
             here
             .
          
           
             Each
             Puny
             Tyro
             here
             can
             easily
             tell
          
           
             The
             ways
             of
             Taking
             ,
             that
             's
             of
             Angling
             well
             ;
          
           
             For
             small
             the
             difference
             is
             ,
             where
             perfect
             Force
             ,
          
           
             And
             Vulgar
             Method
             makes
             the
             Captive
             yours
             :
          
           
             Tho
             e'en
             in
             this
             ,
             if
             you
             would
             angle
             fine
             ,
          
           
             You
             'll
             find
             it
             well
             requi●e
             your
             whole
             design
             :
          
           
             And
             though
             she
             break
             your
             single
             Hair
             ,
             the
             Cross
          
           
             Is
             small
             ,
             and
             small
             the
             patient
             Angler's
             Loss
             ;
          
           
             Put
             on
             a
             new
             ,
             they
             'll
             bite
             with
             equal
             Haste
             ,
          
           
             And
             swallow
             Cadbait
             ,
             Gentles
             ,
             Flies
             ,
             or
             Paste
             ;
          
           
             Nay
             ,
             Worms
             in
             Windy
             Weather
             they
             'll
             devour
             ,
          
           
             Presented
             every
             where
             ,
             and
             every
             hour
             .
          
           
             For
             unless
             Heat
             them
             to
             the
             Surface
             call
             ,
          
           
             They
             'll
             (
             if
             unseen
             )
             no
             Caution
             use
             at
             all
             .
          
           
             Or
             though
             upon
             the
             Streams
             they
             beaking
             lye
             ,
          
           
             Unlead
             your
             Line
             ,
             and
             then
             both
             Worm
             and
             Fly
          
           
             Will
             fatal
             prove
             ,
             if
             naturally
             cast
             ,
          
           
             And
             not
             with
             Rustick
             Skill
             ,
             or
             frightful
             Haste●
          
           
           
             In
             Wittham
             ,
             and
             fair
             
             Thames's
             higher
             Streams
             ,
          
           
             A
             kind
             of
             Roach
             there
             is
             ,
             which
             Rustick
             Swains
          
           
             Call
             Rudd
             .
             His
             Colour
             is
             of
             purest
             Gold
             ,
          
           
             Strong
             ,
             broad
             ,
             and
             thick
             ,
             most
             lovely
             to
             behold
             :
          
           
             This
             at
             the
             Surface
             will
             with
             freedom
             bite
          
           
             At
             small
             Red
             Worms
             ,
             or
             Flies
             ,
             his
             like
             delight
             .
          
           
             But
             Angler
             ,
             if
             you
             meet
             him
             ,
             pray
             take
             care
             ;
          
           
             He
             struggles
             long
             ,
             and
             breaks
             the
             single
             Hair.
          
           
             But
             soft
             my
             Muse
             ,
             thy
             soon-suspended
             Aid
          
           
             I
             now
             invoke
             again
             ;
             my
             haste
             betray'd
          
           
             My
             Knowledge
             .
             There
             ;
             see
             sw●ftly
             how
             he
             flies
             ,
          
           
             Like
             Lightning
             quick
             ,
             and
             like
             that
             past
             my
             eyes
             :
          
           
             The
             Archers
             Arrow
             no
             such
             swiftness
             knows
             ;
          
           
             In
             vain
             the
             Angler
             or
             his
             Skill
             pursues
             .
          
           
             In
             March
             he
             spawns
             ,
             though
             then
             he
             'll
             freely
             bite
             ,
          
           
             Perhaps
             the
             Frosts
             provoke
             his
             Appetite
             .
          
           
             Then
             wisely
             would
             you
             ,
             and
             't
             is
             worth
             your
             care
             ,
          
           
             Wisely
             to
             prosper
             ,
             all
             your
             Skill
             prepare
             ;
          
           
             The
             Trouts
             Companion
             both
             in
             Feed
             and
             Soil
             ,
          
           
             And
             rarely
             caught
             with
             more
             than
             equal
             Skill
             :
          
           
           
             In
             Summer
             on
             the
             scours
             the
             Wanton
             lies
             ,
          
           
             And
             (
             if
             unseen
             )
             he
             all
             day
             long
             will
             rise
             .
          
           
             But
             ne'er
             so
             gamesome
             ,
             ne'er
             so
             brisk
             before
             ,
          
           
             Once
             seen
             he
             flies
             you
             ,
             and
             will
             rise
             no
             more
             :
          
           
             Therefore
             behind
             some
             Bush
             thy self
             conceal
             ,
          
           
             And
             with
             the
             Flesh-Fly
             thou
             wilt
             rarely
             fail
             ;
          
           
             For
             though
             on
             Worms
             he
             'll
             feed
             ,
             or
             any
             Fly
             ,
          
           
             None
             's
             so
             destructive
             ,
             none
             so
             kills
             as
             he
             .
          
           
             Floats
             useless
             are
             ,
             unless
             the
             Worm
             you
             try
             ,
          
           
             And
             with
             the
             rising
             flash
             successfully
          
           
             Descend
             the
             Stream
             ,
             then
             any
             thing
             he
             takes
             ,
          
           
             And
             like
             the
             Trout
             but
             small
             distinction
             makes
             .
          
           
             This
             for
             the
             Dace
             .
             Once
             more
             ,
             and
             then
             adieu
             ;
          
           
             The
             Gudgeons
             haunts
             ,
             and
             hours
             of
             biting
             show
             :
          
           
             For
             though
             small
             Art
             the
             little
             Prize
             suffice
             ,
          
           
             His
             Sport
             's
             as
             good
             ,
             and
             with
             the
             greatest
             vies
             :
          
           
             The
             River
             -
             Smelt
             he
             is
             ,
             and
             if
             as
             rare
             ,
          
           
             None
             doubts
             but
             he
             would
             lose
             in
             the
             compare
             .
          
           
             Few
             Lessons
             will
             the
             Angler's
             use
             supply
             ,
          
           
             Where
             he
             's
             so
             ready
             of
             himself
             to
             dye
             :
          
           
           
             For
             if
             no
             Heats
             or
             Flashes
             interpose
             ,
          
           
             His
             Prize
             he
             'll
             hold
             ,
             and
             yours
             you
             cannot
             lose
             .
          
           
             But
             should
             those
             Obstacles
             your
             Sport
             bereave
             ,
          
           
             This
             Method
             will
             at
             all
             times
             well
             relieve
             :
          
           
             With
             some
             long
             Pole
             raise
             up
             his
             Love
             the
             Sand
             ,
          
           
             And
             all
             are
             summon'd
             ,
             and
             at
             your
             Command
             :
          
           
             Or
             else
             if
             clear
             and
             shallow
             ,
             wade
             the
             Ford
             ,
          
           
             And
             if
             the
             Water
             's
             plentifully
             stor'd
             ,
          
           
             You
             to
             your
             own
             Content
             may
             kill
             ,
             and
             he
          
           
             You
             'll
             find
             resolv'd
             to
             gain
             the
             Victory
             .
          
           
             But
             yet
             in
             spawning
             time
             he
             lies
             full
             low
          
           
             I'
             th'
             Deeps
             ,
             and
             bites
             not
             ,
             tempted
             never
             so
             :
          
           
             For
             I
             in
             April
             fruitful
             Streams
             have
             tri'd
             ,
          
           
             And
             found
             my
             Art
             and
             all
             my
             Pains
             deni'd
             :
          
           
             Nay
             ,
             not
             the
             cordial
             Gentle
             could
             auspicious
             prove
             ,
          
           
             Nor
             the
             small
             Red-Worm
             ,
             his
             continual
             Love
             ,
          
           
             Could
             change
             my
             Fortune
             ,
             or
             his
             Fancy
             move
             .
          
           
             The
             Bleak
             small
             Flies
             upon
             the
             Surface
             takes
             ,
          
           
             And
             never
             the
             least
             Hesitation
             makes
             ,
          
           
           
             With
             an
             observing
             Eye
             ,
             and
             curious
             Hand
             ,
          
           
             Any
             Advantage
             eas●ly
             is
             obtain'd
             .
          
        
         
           
             Desist
             my
             Muse
             ,
             thy
             Work
             at
             last
             is
             past
             ,
          
           
             Which
             with
             the
             Angling
             Few
             shall
             always
             last
             :
          
           
             Without
             thy
             Aid
             Sense
             shall
             supply
             the
             rest
             ;
          
           
             No
             Rules
             they
             want
             ,
             deserve
             not
             Verse
             at
             least
             .
          
        
         
           
             The
             Mennow
             ,
             Flatterer
             like
             ,
             is
             always
             nigh
             ;
          
           
             The
             Angler's
             Plague
             ,
             although
             he
             useful
             be
             :
          
           
             Wheree'er
             he
             breeds
             ,
             he
             keeps
             a
             fearful
             Rout
             ,
          
           
             And
             few
             the
             Rivers
             are
             that
             are
             without
             .
          
           
             To
             catch
             the
             Bullhead
             too
             ,
             each
             School-boy
             knows
             ;
          
           
             And
             to
             the
             Eel
             ,
             Reason
             no
             Verse
             allows
             :
          
           
             Like
             Worms
             Engendring
             they
             no
             sport
             can
             make
             ,
          
           
             But
             what
             the
             School-boys
             find
             in
             Whip
             and
             Snake
             .
          
           
             Though
             if
             my
             Delius
             to
             the
             Sport
             incline
             ,
          
           
             One
             Rule
             I
             'll
             give
             to
             close
             with
             his
             design
             ;
          
           
             After
             strong
             thund'ring
             show'rs
             your
             fortune
             try
             ,
          
           
             With
             Lobworms
             ,
             and
             strong
             Lines
             a
             strong
             supply
             ;
          
           
           
             And
             while
             your
             stock
             endures
             ,
             the
             slimy
             Crew
          
           
             Will
             shear
             your
             Hooks
             ,
             and
             plague
             your
             Cloaths
             and
             you
             .
          
           
             Though
             would
             you
             my
             Advice
             sincerely
             take
             ,
          
           
             You
             first
             this
             trial
             of
             the
             Prize
             should
             make
             .
          
           
             Hot
             dung
             ,
             the
             slimy
             Virmin
             soon
             will
             find
             ,
          
           
             If
             in
             o'reflowing
             Meadows
             well
             design'd
             .
          
           
             There
             when
             you
             will
             the
             nasty
             jakes
             remove
             ,
          
           
             Reason
             will
             terminate
             your
             care
             and
             love
             .
          
           
             In
             cluster'd
             heaps
             ,
             like
             Worms
             thou
             'lt
             see
             'em
             lye
             ,
          
           
             And
             soon
             decide
             their
             Wise
             Philosophy
             ,
          
           
             Who
             see
             no
             Spawn
             ,
             and
             ask
             the
             Reason
             why
             .
          
        
         
           
             The
             Ruff
             ,
             no
             Commoner
             ,
             shall
             close
             my
             Song
             ,
          
           
             A
             bold
             free
             Biter
             ,
             though
             a
             little
             one
             :
          
           
             For
             since
             of
             Fish
             I
             treat
             ,
             't
             would
             awkward
             seem
             ,
          
           
             To
             end
             with
             Monsters
             ,
             and
             with
             Maids
             begin
             .
          
           
             They
             Gentles
             love
             ,
             but
             small
             Redworms
             will
             chuse
             ,
          
           
             And
             Mennow-like
             at
             no
             time
             will
             refuse
             :
          
           
           
             Have
             patience
             when
             th'
             ast
             found
             the
             haunted
             Hole
             ,
          
           
             And
             they
             'll
             not
             leave
             thee
             e're
             th'
             ast
             taken
             all
             :
          
           
             Thus
             they
             in
             Nature
             too
             ,
             as
             well
             as
             make
             ,
          
           
             Except
             in
             largeness
             with
             the
             Pearch
             partake
             :
          
           
             These
             Norwich
             plenteous
             streams
             most
             justly
             boast
             ,
          
           
             Here
             most
             belov'd
             ,
             and
             here
             abounding
             most●
          
           
             Nor
             must
             I
             sacred
             Cam
             in
             this
             forget
             ,
          
           
             Cam
             in
             my
             Verse
             for
             nobler
             reasons
             set
             ,
          
           
             To
             raise
             my
             Song
             ,
             for
             't
             is
             the
             Muses
             seat
             .
          
           
             No
             wonder
             there
             the
             Watry
             Natives
             throng
             ,
          
           
             
             Amphion's
             Harp
             drew
             Woods
             and
             Rocks
             along
             :
          
           
             They
             of
             all
             Kinds
             ,
             admirers
             may
             command
             ,
          
           
             While
             she
             's
             the
             Urn
             of
             
             Cowley's
             sacred
             hand
             .
          
           
             Nor
             ,
             happy
             Nyne
             ,
             must
             Thou
             my
             Verse
             evade
             ,
          
           
             Whose
             Charming
             Streams
             my
             Youthful
             sallies
             had●
          
           
             There
             were
             my
             innocent
             hours
             not
             badly
             spent
             ;
          
           
             O
             that
             I
             had
             no
             greater
             to
             Repent
             .
          
           
           
             Unpoach'd
             are
             all
             thy
             Streams
             ,
             thy
             Meadows
             free
             ,
          
           
             What
             Stream
             is
             worthy
             to
             compare
             with
             thee
             ?
          
           
             What
             but
             fair
             Trent
             ,
             that
             wheresoe're
             she
             flows
             ,
          
           
             Nature
             luxuriant
             in
             her
             favour
             shows
             ?
          
           
             Not
             thrice
             Ten
             Rivers
             ,
             as
             some
             meanly
             feign
             ,
          
           
             But
             Thrice
             so
             many
             Natives
             give
             her
             Name
             :
          
           
             Though
             should
             we
             trace
             her
             to
             her
             spacious
             Jaws
             ,
          
           
             Thrice
             thrice
             Ten
             various
             Kinds
             we
             might
             disclose
             :
          
           
             The
             Anglers
             luxury
             thou
             art
             ,
             and
             he
          
           
             No
             Recreation
             wants
             that
             lives
             by
             thee
             .
          
           
             Poach'd
             Wellin
             slipp'd
             ,
             I
             must
             not
             yet
             disclaim
             ,
          
           
             My
             Love
             ,
             my
             well
             acquainted
             
             Witham's
             Name
             ;
          
           
             Though
             Rented
             out
             ,
             the
             Largess
             of
             the
             Poor
             ,
          
           
             The
             Angler's
             pride
             she
             is
             ,
             no
             River
             more
             .
          
           
             Idle
             must
             pass
             ;
             for
             though
             I
             oft
             have
             tri'd
             ,
          
           
             She
             always
             love
             ,
             and
             often
             sport
             deni'd
             :
          
           
             Much
             less
             deserves
             she
             such
             penurious
             care
             ,
          
           
             To
             punish
             Ladies
             when
             they
             Angle
             there
             .
          
           
           
             Speak
             not
             my
             Muse
             ,
             thy
             Verse
             it
             sure
             would
             blast
             ,
          
           
             To
             name
             ,
             and
             more
             to
             justify
             the
             Beast
             :
          
           
             Poor
             Streams
             ,
             thy
             well-taught
             Natives
             justly
             fly
          
           
             Thy
             Master's
             Bounty
             and
             his
             Tyranny
             .
          
           
             But
             Dun
             would
             blame
             the
             justice
             of
             my
             Pen
             ,
          
           
             Who
             kindly
             us'd
             ,
             return'd
             it
             not
             again
             :
          
           
             But
             Dun
             from
             Anglers
             shall
             not
             fail
             of
             Praise
             ,
          
           
             E'en
             more
             than
             my
             poor
             humble
             Verse
             can
             raise
             :
          
           
             For
             mighty
             sure
             must
             be
             her
             vast
             desert
             ,
          
           
             Who
             from
             an
             Arm
             can
             such
             delight
             impart
             .
          
           
             O
             Dern
             !
             thy
             Pleasures
             oft
             my
             mind
             employ
             ,
          
           
             Much
             greater
             Streams
             may
             justly
             envy
             thee
             ;
          
           
             Scarce
             one
             of
             all
             the
             Watry
             Court
             is
             found
             ,
          
           
             That
             does
             not
             in
             thy
             little
             Streams
             abound
             .
          
           
             Witness
             ye
             River-Nymphs
             ,
             and
             every
             shade
             ,
          
           
             How
             often
             this
             my
             ardent
             Wish
             I
             've
             made
             :
          
           
             Blest
             might
             I
             with
             a
             moderate
             Estate
             ,
          
           
             Which
             my
             own
             Labour
             never
             spar'd
             to
             get
             :
          
           
           
             Blest
             might
             I
             live
             an
             honest
             Country
             Swain
             ,
          
           
             And
             with
             content
             in
             little
             compass
             Reign
             :
          
           
             No
             spacious
             Fabricks
             would
             I
             care
             to
             boast
             ,
          
           
             Convenient
             Neatness
             would
             delight
             me
             most
             ;
          
           
             Where
             from
             my
             Shades
             I
             could
             with
             joy
             survey
          
           
             Expanding
             Meads
             that
             on
             each
             side
             me
             lay
             ;
          
           
             Just
             in
             the
             mid'st
             a
             Rivulet
             should
             pass
             ,
          
           
             With
             pleasing
             Murmurs
             ,
             and
             transparent
             grace
             :
          
           
             If
             falling
             Waters
             reach'd
             from
             far
             my
             Ear
             ,
          
           
             'T
             would
             raise
             the
             Landskip
             ,
             and
             depress
             my
             care
             :
          
           
             Far
             off
             some
             good
             old
             Tow'r
             shou'd
             strike
             my
             view
             ,
          
           
             And
             teach
             the
             certain
             state
             of
             things
             below
             .
          
           
             There
             neighb'ring
             grandeur
             might
             unenvi'd
             reign
             ,
          
           
             While
             I
             'm
             allow'd
             by
             all
             the
             Happy
             Man
             :
          
           
             Lov'd
             by
             my
             Friends
             ,
             and
             if
             I
             must
             have
             Foes
             ,
          
           
             Envi'd
             for
             my
             plain
             honest
             truth
             by
             those
             .
          
           
           
             But
             let
             all
             Vice
             ,
             Ye
             Pow'rs
             ,
             be
             banish'd
             hence
             ,
          
           
             And
             that
             Religion
             which
             is
             all
             Pretence
             .
          
           
             At
             my
             own
             Table
             I
             'd
             have
             no
             Man
             see
          
           
             Extravagance
             ,
             and
             much
             less
             Penury
             .
          
           
             Nor
             should
             the
             Poor
             of
             cruel
             Want
             Complain
             ;
          
           
             Nor
             should
             the
             Wrong'd
             implore
             my
             help
             in
             vain
             :
          
           
             Nor
             should
             my
             Sallies
             far
             from
             home
             extend
             ,
          
           
             To
             see
             a
             Field
             ,
             or
             cheer
             a
             drooping
             Friend
             :
          
           
             Or
             with
             the
             darling
             Partner
             of
             my
             Life
             ,
          
           
             That
             mightiest
             Comfort
             of
             my
             days
             ,
             my
             Wife
             ,
          
           
             Hast
             to
             the
             neighbour
             Streams
             our
             luck
             to
             try
             ,
          
           
             And
             baulk'd
             in
             Sport
             ,
             return
             assur'd
             of
             Joy.
          
           
             Such
             would
             I
             be
             ,
             but
             if
             the
             Pow'rs
             design
          
           
             Me
             other
             Fate
             ,
             Why
             Fortune
             is
             not
             mine
             ?
          
           
             With
             a
             sincere
             dependance
             I
             submit
             ,
          
           
             Since
             I
             return
             but
             His
             ,
             that
             gave
             me
             it
             .
          
           
           
             Such
             is
             the
             Angler's
             Life
             ,
             so
             truly
             blest
          
           
             Are
             those
             that
             wait
             on
             fickle
             Fortune
             least
             :
          
           
             That
             taste
             my
             Joys
             ,
             and
             hold
             them
             what
             they
             are
             ,
          
           
             And
             scorn
             to
             bring
             things
             trivial
             in
             Compare
             .
          
        
         
           FINIS
           .
        
         
      
    
     
       
         Notes, typically marginal, from the original text
         
           Notes for div A62957-e1940
           
             *
             
               Is
               a
               Word
               peculiar
               to
               the
               Angler
               ,
               and
               signifies
               no
               more
               than
               the
               wrapping
               of
               two
               Links
               together
               ,
               which
               evens
               the
               Line
               ,
               and
               keeps
               it
               more
               taper
               than
               the
               knot
               will
               allow
               it
               to
               be
               .
            
          
           
             *
             
               Walton
               ,
               Cotton
               ,
               Venables
            
             .
          
           
             *
             
               Here
               ●he
               A●thor
               rid●●●i●s
               the
               Vulgar
               .
            
          
           
             †
             
               A
               sort
               of
               Boat
               us'd
               in
               the
               River
            
             Dee
             ,
             
               and
               carried
               by
               the
               Fisherman
               to
               the
               Water
               to
               fish
               in
               .
            
          
        
      
    
  

