No warbling cheers the woods; the feather'd choir, 95
To court kind flumbers, to the sprays retire;
When no rude gale difturbs the fleeping trees,
Nor afpen leaves confefs the gentlest breeze;
Engag'd in thought, to Neptune's bounds I ftray,
To take my farewel of the parting day;
Far in the deep the fun his glory hides,
A ftreak of gold the sea and sky divides:
The purple clouds their amber linings fhow,
And edg'd with flame rolls every wave below:
Here penfive I behold the fading light,
And o'er the distant billow lofe my fight.
Now Night in filent ftate begins to rife,
And twinkling orbs bestrow th' uncloudy skies;
Her borrow'd luftre growing Cynthia lends,
And on the main a glittering path extends;
Millions of worlds hang in the fpacious air,
Which round their funs their annual circles fteer;
Sweet contemplation elevates my fenfe,
While I survey the works of Providence.
O could the Muse in loftier ftrains rehearse
The glorious Author of the universe,
Who reins the winds, gives the vaft ocean bounds,
And circumfcribes the floating worlds their rounds;
My foul should overflow in fongs of praise,
And my Creator's name infpire my lays!
As in fucceffive courfe the feafons roll,
So circling pleasures recreate the foul.
When genial Spring a living warmth bestows,
And o'er the year her verdant mantle throws,
Now, happy fisherman, now twitch the line!
How thy rod bends! behold, the prize is thine!
Caft on the bank, he dies with gasping pains,
And trickling blood his filver mail diftains.
You must not every worm promifcuous use,
Judgment will tell the proper bait to choose:
The worm that draws a long immoderate fize,
The trout abhors, and the rank morfel flies;
And, if too small, the naked fraud's in fight,
And fear forbids, while hunger does invite.
Those baits will best reward the fisher's pains,
Whose polish'd tails a shining yellow stains :
Cleanse them from filth, to give a tempting gloss,
Cherish the fully'd reptile race with mofs;
Amid the verdant bed they twine, they toil,
And from their bodies wipe their native foil.
But when the fun difplays his glorious beams,
And fhallow rivers flow with filver ftreams,
Then the deceit the fcaly breed furvey,
Bask in the fun, and look into the day:
You now a more delufive art must try,
And tempt their hunger with the curious fly.
To frame the little animal, provide
All the gay hues that wait on female pride;
Let nature guide thee; fometimes golden wire
The shining bellies of the fly require;
The peacock's plumes thy tackle muft not fail,
Nor the dear purchase of the fable's tail.
Each gaudy bird fome flender tribute brings,
And lends the growing infect proper wings:
Silks of all colours must their aid impart,
And every fur promote the fisher's art.
So the gay lady, with expensive care
Borrows the pride of land, of sea, and air:
Furs, pearls, and plumes, the glittering thing displays,
Dazzles our eyes, and easy hearts betrays.
Mark well the various feasons of the year,
How the fucceeding infect race appear;
In this revolving moon one colour reigns,
Which in the next the fickle trout difdains.
Oft have I feen the skilful angler try
The various colours of the treacherous fly;
When he with fruitless pain hath skimm'd the brook,
And the coy fish rejects the skipping hook,
He shakes the boughs that on the margin grow,
Which o'er the stream a waving forest throw;
When, if an infect fall (his certain guide),
He gently takes him from the whirling tide;
Examines well his form with curious eyes,
His gaudy veft, his wings, his horns, and size,
Then round his hook the chofen fur he winds,
And on the back a speckled feather binds;
So just the colours fhine through every part,
That Nature seems again to live in Art.
Let not thy wary step advance too near,
While all thy hope hangs on a fingle hair;
The new-form'd infect on the water moves,
The fpeckled trout the curious fnare approves ;
Upon the curling furface let it glide,
With natural motion from thy hand supply'd,
Against the stream now gently let it play,
Now in the rapid eddy roll away.
The scaly fhoals float by, and, feiz'd with fear,
Behold their fellows toft in thinner air;
But foon they leap, and catch the swimming bait,
Plunge on the hook, and share an equal fate.
When a brisk gale against the current blows,
And all the watery plain in wrinkles flows,
Then let the fisherman his art repeat,
Where bubbling eddies favour the deceit.
If an enormous falmon chance to fpy
The wanton errors of the floating fly,
He lifts his filver gills above the flood,
And greedily fucks in th' unfaithful food;
Then downward plunges with the fraudful prey,
And bears with joy the little spoil away :
Soon in smart pain he feels the dire mistake,
Lashes the wave, and beats the foamy lake;
With fudden rage he now aloft appears,
And in his eye convulfive anguish bears;
And now again, impatient of the wound,
He rolls and wreathes his fhining body round;
Then headlong shoots beneath the dashing tide,
The trembling fins the boiling wave divide.
Now hope exalts the fifher's beating heart,
Now he turns pale, and fears his dubious art;
He views the tumbling fifh with longing eyes,
While the line ftretches with th' unwieldy prize;
Each motion humours with his steady hands,
And one flight hair the mighty bulk commands
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