75 



well, an old angling crony of yours; but you cannot 

 have heard the song before, as mine is the only 

 copy that he has given to any one. 



THE ANGLER'S REVEILLE. 



Old Winter is gone, and young Spring now comes 

 tripping ; 



Sweet flowers are springing wherever she treads ; 

 While the bee, hovering o'er them, keeps humming 

 and sipping, 



And birds sing her welcome in woodlands and meads. 

 The snow-wreath no more on the hill-side is lying; 



The leaf-buds are bursting, bright green, on each tree; 

 Ho, anglers, arouse ye! the streams are worth trying, 



Fit your rods, and away to the fishing with me ! 



Haste away! haste away! for the south wind is blowing 



And rippling so gently the face of the stream, , 

 Which neither too full nor too fine yet is flowing, 



Now clouded, now bright with a sun-shiny gleam. 

 At the foot of the fall, where the bright trouts are 

 leaping, 



In the stream where the current is rapid and strong, 

 Or just by the bank where the skeggers seem sleeping, 



There throw your fly light, and you cannot throw 

 wrong. 



There 's joy in the chase, over hedge and ditch flying ; 



'Tis pleasant to bring down the grouse on the fell; 

 The partridge to bag, through the low stubble trying ; 



The pheasant to shoot as he flies through the dell. 



