BRITISH SPORT PAST AND PRESENT 



The wily tish is sullen grown, 



And, like a bright imbedded stone. 



Lies sleaniing at the bottom. 



Hark to the music of the reel ! 



Tis hush't, it hath forsaken ; 



With care we'll guard the magic wheel 



Until its notes re waken. 



A birr ! a whirr ! the salmon 's up ! 



Give line, give line and measure ; 



But now he turns ! keep down ahead, 



And lead him as a child is led, 



And land him at your leisure. 



Hark to the music of the reel ! 



'Tis welcome ; it is glorious ; 



It wanding through the winding wheel. 



Returning and victorious. 



A birr ! a whirr ! the salmon \s in 



Upon the bank extended ; 



The princely tish is gasping slow. 



His brilliant colours come and go, 



All beautifully blended. 



Hark to the music of the reel ! 



It murmurs and it closes ; 



Silence is on the conquering wheel ; 



Its wearied line reposes. 



No birr ! no whirr ! the salmon 's ours. 



The noble fish — the thumper: 



Strike through his gills the ready gaft, 



And bending homewards we shall quaff 



Another glorious bumper I 



Hark to the music of the reel ! 



We listen with devotion ; 



There's something in that circling wheel 



That wakes the iieart's emotion. 



T. T. STODDAR'r, 



Songs and Poems, 1839. 



180 



