LABRADOR JOURNAL 365 



In stature tall, but meagre in the Face. 

 To Europeans long have they been known ; 

 And all their \'ices, these have made their own. 

 Not theirs the friendly visit; nor the feast 

 Of social intercourse; but like brute beast, 

 They greedily devour the reeking meal : 

 And then get drunk and quarrel, lie, and steal. 



The Codfish now in shoals come on the coast, 

 (A Fish'ry this, our Nation's chiefest boast) 

 Now numerous Caplin croud along the Shore; 

 Tho' great their numbers, yet their Foes seem more: 

 Whilst Birds of rapine, hover o'er their Heads, 

 ^'oracious Fish in myriads throng their Beds. 

 With these our Hooks we artfully disguise. 

 And soon the glutton Cod becomes our Prize. 

 Not one stands idle; each Man knows his post, 

 Nor Day, nor Night, a moment must be lost. 

 The western Wind of low Ice clears the Sea, 

 And leaves to welcome Ships a passage free. 

 Yet huge large Isles of wond'rous bulk remain, 

 (To drive off which, the Wind still blows in vain) 

 In size, surpassing far thy bulk, Paul! * 

 Immeasurably wide, and deep, and tall. 

 To Seaward oft' we cast an anxious eye; 

 At length th' expected Ship with pleasure spy. 

 Impatient Joy then seizes ev'ry Breast; 

 And till we've boarded her Adieu to rest. 

 Eager the News to learn, from Friends to hear; 

 The long seal'd letter hiiatily we tear. — 

 The Cargo landed, and the ship laid by. 

 To Fishing straight, the jolly Sailors hie. 

 If you love sporting, go to Lahrador: 

 Of Game of various sorts, no land has more. 

 There you may suit your Taste, as you're inclin'd. 

 From the fierce White-bear to the timid Hind. 

 Of Fishing too, you there may have your fill: 

 Or in the Sea, or in the purling Rill. 

 Of feathcr'd (Jame, variety you'll find. 

 And plenty you may kill, if you're not blind. 



• Saint Puul'a London. 



