The work is, in truth, indebted throughout, equally to Professional Zeal, and Amateur Condescension.
May the RoD of the Critic be exchanged for that of the Fisher; and endless be the willing captives of Walton's imperishable LINE!
ON RIVER-FISH AND FISHING.
To Mr. J. B., on his presenting the author with an ancient MS. Poem on Sea-fishes, in Latin and English, rescued from a collection of papers intended for destruction.
Curious and ardent antiquarian reaper,
(Of Time's own store-house worthy to be keeper!)
The Finny tribe, an Angler's word believe,
With gratitude this proof of love receive;
Thy health they drink, by virtue of this charter,
And mix a little brandy with their water!
While Piscatorians, with congenial wishes,
Pledging can be outdone by none but fishes!
For though the Muse in learned garb conceal'd,
At first in icy chains would seem congeal'd,
The free translation quick dispels our awe;
Just emblem of the frost, and then the thaw !
"Solvuntur Tabulæ !"-Hence puzzling rebus!
"Post Nubila," and lo!-resplendet " Phabus !”
The lines discover'd by sharp-sighted B-th,
Might vie with rivers gliding sweetly smooth!
And yet to sea-fish, chiefly they have ref'rence;
Haste to the purling streams and mark the diff'rence!
Let brooks and rivulets in turn have sway,
Sweet is the theme, and welcome be the lay!
Blest WALTON! can the Deities refuse,
A name endeared to every gentle Muse?
O! for true attic salt to grace thy line,
And steep thy fish in everlasting brine!
Hail to the Angler's life, which none can match,
May harmless Glee, succeed each lusty Catch!
Health and long life the jocund sport attend,
And each choice spirit be the Angler's friend!
O! King of Rivers! thou'rt a fish of reason,
And go'st to sea but only for the season!
The strain sublime, each Salmon shall prolong,
And every Trout be tickled up in song!
Nay, not a Gudgeon but shall join the jingle,
While merry Mullets mirthfully commingle!
Come next, thou silver Eel, nor rhymes be failing,
Turn northward, Muse, and sing the gilded Grayling!
That feeds on gold! and sheds unmixed delight,
Sweet to the smell, the palate, and the sight!
Or be thou, Goddess, in a merry freak,
We summon to our song the bustling Bleak;
Then, little loves, that all description beggar,
Come beauteous Minnow, and come darling Skegger!
The lurking Loach, too, and the Bull-head gruff,
And little Pope !-come all !-come smooth and Ruffe!
The Barbel, Chub, and Bream, we'll also treat well,
But let them promise, in return, to eat well!
Then spots and streaks, enchanting all beholders,
Shall make folks careless of Cods' head and shoulders!
Soles then may keep their solitary tracks,
And Turbots shall be thrown upon their backs!
Lobsters, perchance, retain their narrow cloisters,
And ev'ry saucy fellow feed on Oysters!
But turn, O, Muse! and less excursive be,
(The Naiads never should be out at sea!)
Let others seek the billowy track profound,
Be our's LAKES, RIVERS, and the homely PoND!
The radiant Carp, and semi-lucid Dace,
Shall next, in turn, our velvet margins grace-
The Guiniad and Char, though rarely seen,
At least, we'll fancy, stretch'd upon the green;
Then (luckless semblance of the twice-dead Plaice),
Come frisky Flounder, shew thy sidelong face!
However doubtful else, thy tuneful claims,
Thou swimm'st (jam satis) in the silver Thames !
'Tis credit to thy taste to leave the sea,
And give the Londoners a taste of thee!
Delicious White-Bait too, we laud thy taste!
Come whence thou wilt, and go where'er thou may'st!*
* It is an established fact in Natural History, that both the origin and destination of the White-Bait are equally unknownalthough the erroneous notion of it's being the fry of some other fish is completely overthrown. See p. 366.
Is there another dainty fish of doubt ?
Yes!-one there is-and we can scent him out.
Come, violet-Smelt, then, join the tuneful throng,
And glide in fragrance down the tide of song!
Nor envy while rich pearls thy frame infold,
The coarser Carp "in scales bedropped with gold!"
The healing Tench and the devouring Pike!
The Perch, that scarce less terror seems to strike-
The harmless Roach and Stickleback alike—
From this day forward, be it known, remain,
Prolific subjects for the Poet's strain.
Hail to the Angler's joys, beyond compare
The countless pleasures of the open air!
With rural ditties let the vallies ring,
And greet with roundelays the welcome Spring!
And, O! ye sylvan Deities that love,
The fond enthusiast of the mead and grove,
Lives there the man that seeks your sacred shores,
For gain alone, unheeding Nature's stores?
That woos not Wisdom in the silent hour,
Nor reads a moral lesson in each flower?
With kindred Poachers, be he doom'd to wrangle,
Disown'd by all true Brothers of the Angle!
Whose opportunities of "Contemplation,"
Complete and crown the darling " Recreation!"
May gifted bards this joyous theme pursue,
And point to treasures hid from vulgar view.
Sons of Apollo! to the streams resort,
And inspiration draw from fields of sport!
Let mirth with science gracefully combine,
And swell the triumphs of the Angler's line!
IMMORTAL WALTON! may thy flame still burn,
And duteous pilgrims crown thy sacred urn!
Lov'd as thou art, the future age shall show,
Thy cherish'd lineaments with brighter glow!
May the fresh homage that shall yet be paid,
Be grateful incense to thy gentle shade,
Nor honours cease, e'en when thine altar rears
The heap'd applauses of a thousand years!
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