THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY. 181 



In their revolving inoon one colour reigns, 



Which in the next the fickle trout disdains. 



Oft have I seen a skilful angler try 



The various colours of the trech'rous fly ; 



When he with fruitless pain hath skim'd the brook, 



And the coy fish rejects the skipping hook. 



He shakes the boughs, that on the margin grow, 



Which o'er the stream a weaving forest throw ; 



When if an insect fall (his certain guide) 



He gently takes him from the whirling tide 5 



Examines well his form with curious eyes, 



His gaudy vest, his wings, his horns, and size ; 



Then round his hook the chosen fur he winds, 



And on the back a speckled feather binds ; 



So just the colours shine through ev'ry part, 



That Nature seems to live again in art." 



THE WORM. 



" You must not every worm promiscuous use, 

 Judgment will tell the proper baits to chuse. 

 The worm that draws a long immod'rate size 

 The trout abhors, and the rank morsel flies. 

 And if too small, the naked fraud's in sight, 

 And fear forbids while danger does invite j 

 Those baits will best reward the fisher's pains, 

 Whose polish' d tails a shining yellow stains ; 

 Cleanse them from filth to give a tempting gloss, 

 Cherish the sully' d reptile then with moss : 

 Amid the verdant bed they twine, they toil, 

 And from their bodies wipe their native soil." 



Several of the most able and popular of our poets 



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