THE JED JAMES THOMSON. 157 



And oft attempts to seize it, but as oft 

 The dimpled water speaks his jealous fear. 

 At last, whilst haply o'er the shaded sun 

 Passes a cloud, he desperate takes the death 

 With sullen plunge. At once he darts along, 

 Deep-struck, and runs out all the lengthened line ; 

 Then seeks the farthest ooze, the sheltering weed, 

 The cavern'd bank, his old secure abode, 

 And flies aloft, and flounces round the pool, 

 Indignant of the guile. With yielding hand, 

 That feels him still, yet to his furious course 

 Gives way, you, now retiring, following now 

 Across the stream, exhaust his idle rage, 

 Till, floating broad upon his breathless side, 

 And to his fate abandoned, to the shore 

 You gaily drag your unresisting prize." 



This is angling in the Jed at Southdean, not in the 

 Thames at Kichmond or Twickenham ; and it is plain 

 that the whole of the " Seasons'' receive their colouring 

 from impressions made upon the poet's mind in his 

 border life. 



The trout of the Jed are of good size, and of a high 

 character from the frying-pan point of view. The trees 

 that make its banks so picturesque are not so objec- 

 tionable to the fly-fisher who casts up-stream, seeing 

 that he needs less room behind him for the swing of 

 his line, as to the one who casts straight across ; and 

 to the worm-fisher, who does not require to use a long 

 line, they are still less objectionable. But if an angler 

 finds himself in any case interrupted by trees mis- 

 taking his distances in casting, failing to perceive 

 some slight projecting branch that intervenes between 

 the point where he wishes his fly to fall, constantly 

 getting fast, trying in vain to get his line down, then 

 giving it a tug that breaks it and renders it necessary 



