I IJ TWO DAYS FLY- FISH I NO 



THE STIRRUP CUP. 



Come underneath these old lime trees, 



* A stirrup cup,' come drink with me; 



My toast, a bumper if you please 



' Our May-fly Club* with three times three ' 



Oh ! we are Anglers keen and true, 

 Met here to fish the streams of Test I 

 And the dainty trout our skill shall lue, 

 E'er Phoebus sinks down in the west ! 



Tho* March and April both are past, 

 (Tho' May has left her fly for June) 

 The rush-green Drake is come at last, 

 And Angler's hearts are all in tune ! 



Now perl and hackle throw aside, 

 Let mimic art to nature yield ; 

 Long rods and blowing lines provide, 

 Up, brother, up, ! and take the field. 



For see where Sol illumes the streams, 

 And May gnats caper in the haze ! 

 Frail emblems of life's passing dreams, 

 And pleasure's short-liv'd dancing days ! 



But we've no time to moralize, 

 By practice artists wiser grow 

 ' A lively fly and a merry rise* 

 And then to work like Anglers go ! 



We resumed our sport after my friend had pen- 

 cilled down his song, and met with ample success. 

 the afternoon was perfect, and 6ur charming river 

 glowed with animation. Those only can judge of 

 its beauty as a stream who have seen it on such a 

 day as this. It is one of my pleasing dreams that 



