August, I crown thee Monarch of the Year, 

 for Nature now in grandest garb is dressed ; thy 

 treasury is crammed, thy robes are gold, sweet 

 smiles bedeck the brows of all thy subjects, 

 and thy ripe fruits burst with the weight of 

 their luxuriance. Often have I pondered o'er 

 each varied month, and equal seems to me their 

 beauty; by the contrast of our cold we love 

 the summer ; from relaxing heat we revel in the 

 bracing breath of winter — all have enjoyments, if 

 they've health and a contented mind. Let those 

 of other mould embrace our art, and speedily, 

 ay, speedily, they'll change from the abject and 

 dissatisfied hypochondriac, to the happy, healthy, 

 and most joyous Angler. 



H 



