And as we find that length of years destroy*. 



The strength, but not the love of former joys, 



He, tho' grown old, resorted to the shore, 



And haunted still the streams he lov'd before j 



Still was he pleas'd and eager to betray, 



With hooks conceal'd by baits the finny prey, * 



As once the old man, on a river's side, 



Aim'd at a fish that near the shore he spy'dj 



His tottering footsteps fail'd to keep their hold, 



And headlong from the slipp'ry bank he roll'd j 



Now with the rapid current he contends, 



Large draughts of water swallows, and extends 



His feeble arms, but, hoping most to gain 



By pray'rs success, he vows but vows in vain. 



His breathless body, floating down the brook, 



Great Jove beheld, and kind compassion took: 



" Live still," he cry'd, " but in the stream remain, 



And dwell for ever with the finny train ; 



Death was so near at hand, you need not grieve 



For a short space a feeble trunk to leave." 



Now forth his arms as leathern fins extend, 



And in a tail his feet contracted blend j 



The form of scales his tatter'd garments wore ; 



His back look'd dry and wither'd as before j . 



Still on his chin a length of beard remained, 



His teeth he lost, but harmless gums retain'd, 



These, in a fish, the marks of age are deem'd, 



For age alone the mullets are esteem'd j 



And length of years, by which all other things 



Decay, to these increase of honour brings. 



* ' The angler's sport is full of patience, and if he lose his hooke, he 

 makes a faire fishing. 



The fish in the river is not afraid of drowning, and if he play with a 

 baite it will cost him his life." 



Wit 1 1 private wealthy $tored iwtk ckolss of cotnmaditist to content tbt 

 minJe, by N. Breton. 1639. 



I to 



