CHAPTER II. 

 FISHES OF THE ANGLE. 



POETS are in sympathy with anglers, whether, as children, 

 they go with Clare 



" Chasing the stickle o'er the shallow tide, 

 And flat stones turning, where the gudgeon hide " 



or, in completer accomplishment of adult sport 



" Where the duck dabbles 'mid the rustling sedge, 

 And feeding pike starts from the water's edge " 



with Mackay 



" Rod in hand they go 

 To streams that leap too frolicsome to flow, 

 Angling for trout, and catch them by themselves, 

 In fancied citadel, beneath the shelves of slippery stone ; " 



all of which is very curious. They do not, it is true, like 

 to see men putting the poor worms on to their hooks, but, 

 for poets, they are singularly insensible to any suffering that 

 may be caused to the fish. 



" When, if or chance or hunger's pow'rful sway 

 Directs the roving trout this fatal way, 

 He greedily sucks in the twining bait, 

 And tugs and nibbles the fallacious meat. 

 Now, happy fisherman ! Now twitch the line ; 

 How thy rod bends ! behold, the prize is thine. 

 Cast on the bank, he dies with gasping pains, 

 And trickling blood his silver mail distains. 



