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So greedy Wolves who after Midnight range, 

 Fail in a Pit-fall arid their lives exchange. 

 Vain Pride by accidental chances come 

 Unto a Period, and the everlasting Sun 

 Climbs higher still, till Climbing throws him 



down, 



And in a Sable Vails the Immortal Crown 

 Of Light, 



But to my Theme, 

 The Chubs are then 

 Eternal Gormandizers; 

 A Gentle or a Worm, sometimes he'll take. 

 And seldom e'er refuse the bait, 

 Of verdant singing Hoppers, 

 And other things ; but from his sight stand 



clear, 



For sure he sees, and Fishes well can hear, 

 For sight, or noise, 

 Are no decoys, 

 In Chrystial streams, 

 The very stirring of a bush, 

 Makes all your Art riot worth a rush, 



And so deludes your pains: 

 Which to prevent, act by judicious care, 

 Observe the wind, and how you best may bear 

 The floating fly, 

 In places nigh 



His 



