ANGLING REMINISCENCES. 63 



Christian in thy wishes. Of a verity, would it re- 

 joice thee to have me under thy beak, my jaw torn 

 up with thy torture-iron my nerves straightened, 

 and hot with agony my frame striving against 

 exhaustion, and yet weaker becoming, and weaker, 

 until the power and the spirit within it were both 

 vanquished, and it floated into thy very grasp, only 

 to receive its cruel death-stroke at those unsparing 

 hands. Oh ! wretch, pitiless and unfeeling, insen- 

 sate as marble, cold as lead ! 



Otter. A truce, worthy Doctor, a truce ! Thou 

 art bitter in thy usage of words, like a certain par- 

 son I know of, who wars eloquently by mouth, and 

 abuses his hearers, right and left, without check or 

 reason. Give us a stave, Hackle, and help to re- 

 store the Doctor's gopd humour. 



[HACKLE sings."] 



n\zm to it!) we tlje gj)rmfl=tttre blantr, 



i. 



Bless with me the spring-tide bland, 



All ye anglers of the valley ! 

 Wave aloof the slender wand, 



And around the oak-tree rally. 



II. 

 Bless the birds, that all along 



Send us such a cheerful greeting ; 

 To those measures of kind song 



Joyously our hearts are beating. 



