Fly-Fifhing. 9? 



That gambol on with many a bound, 

 The diftant lea to meet. 



Burnifhed with gold, and green, and blue, 



The whirling bubbles gleam, 

 And burft not yet within his view, 



Like many a paft day-dream. 



Myriads of infels happy things ! 



Sail foftly humming by j 

 And every note each wild bird fings 



Is fraught with melody ! 



Shall troubled thoughts difturb him then, 



Far from the fickening ftrife 

 That fends, alas ! his fellow men 



Sad down the ftream of life ? 



Surely no heart, however fad, 



Could ftill unfolaced be, 

 Or feel, where all around was glad, 



No touch of fympathy ! 



Oh ! fuch waterfalls, and deep, black-looking 

 pools beneath, as would make you convulfively 

 clutch your bafket to fpeculate if it could pofiibly 

 hold all you meant to catch ! 



If you are a brother of the angle, as I take you 

 to be, you know as well as I can tell you, that of 

 all uncertain things in this moft uncertain world, 

 there is nothing more fo than the anticipated re- 

 fults of a day's fly-fifhing. I muft inform you, 

 H 



