60 Ffy-Fjj/hingk 



poor prifoner to efcape, were indeed ftruggles of 

 the moft defperate kind, that only the niceft fkill 

 and patience on his part, fucceeded in rendering 

 futile ; till at length, fairly beaten, he managed to 

 land him the firft veritable falmon he had ever 

 caught, to his inexpreflible delight ! 



Perhaps fomething like the fpirit of thofe fine 

 lines of Stoddart, on the death of a falmon, flamed 

 acrofs his mind : 



" A birr ! a whirr ! the falmon's up, 

 Give line, give line and meafure j 

 But now he turns ! keep down ahead, 

 And lead him as a child is led, 



And land him at your leifure. 

 Hark to the mufic of the reel ! 



'Tis welcome, it is glorious ; 

 It wanders through the winding wheel, 

 Returning and viftorious. 



'* A birr! a whirr ! the falmon's in, 



Upon the bank extended j 

 The princely fifh is gafping flow, 

 His brilliant colours come and go, 



All beautifully blended. 

 Hark to the mufic of the reel, 



It murmurs and it clofes } 

 Silence is on the conquering reel, 

 Its wearied line repofes. 



