288 FOREIGN ANGLING LITERATURE 



The brightest rose bears 'neath its fold 



The prickly thorn conceal' d ; 

 While sweets that mankind dearly hold 



Oft rankest bitters yield. 



Vice oft appears in pleasure's garb ; 



Let giddy youth beware ! 

 Beneath may lie the polish'd barb, 



'Mong feathers bright and fair. 

 Deep hidden 'neath such tinsel glare 



The wiles of life may lie ; 

 And brilliant follies yield a smart 



As deadly as my fly." 



"LINES ON ONE OF THE CHIEF TRIBUTARIES TO THE 

 GREAT ST. LAWRANCE. 



Dark, rushing, foaming river, 



I love thy solemn sound, 

 That makes thy shores quiver, 



Spreading soft murmurs round. 



Thy waters, like unbridled steed, 



Fly onward in their course ; 

 Pouring thy waters down the mead 



With unrelenting force. 



I love thee, lovely river, 



Thy cedar-girted shores, 

 The rocky isles that sever 



The waves that round them pour. 

 But now I leave thy streams 



To angle other rills j 

 Where a brighter eye beams, 



To soothe my present ills. 

 Montreal, 1850." 



