Fly Fishing for Salmon, 1 5 



" When a brisk gale against the current blows, 

 And all the wat'ry plain in wrinkles flows, 

 Then let the fisherman his art repeat, 

 Where bubbling eddies favour the deceit. 

 If an enormous salmon chance to spy 

 The wanton errors of the floating fly, 

 He lifts his silver gills above the flood, 

 And greedily sucks in th' unfaithful food ; 

 Then downward plunges with the fraudful prey 

 And bears with joy the little spoil away. 

 Soon in smart pain he feels the dire mistake. 

 Lashes the wave, and beats the foamy lake. 

 With sudden rage he now aloft appears, 

 And in his eye convulsive anguish bears ; 

 And now again, impatient of the wound. 

 He rolls and wreathes his shining body round. 

 Then headlong shoots beneath the dashing tide, 

 The trembling fins the boihng waves divide ; 

 Now hope exalts the fisher's beating heart, 

 Now he turns pale, and fears his dubious art : 

 He views the tumbling fish with longing eyes. 

 While the line stretches with th' unwieldy prize ; 

 Each motion humours with his steady hands. 

 And one slight hair the mighty bulk commands : 

 Till tir'd at last, despoil'd of all his strength. 

 The game athwart the stream unfolds his length. 

 He now, with pleasure, views the gasping prize 

 Gnash his sharp teeth and roll his bloodshot eyes ; 

 Then draws him to the shore, with artful care, 

 And lifts his nostril in the sick'ning air. 

 Upon the burthen'd stream he floating lies. 

 Stretches his quivering fins, and gasping, dies." 



