158 FISHING GOSSIP. 
But the carp kept his head in the reedy bed, 
He chose not to dance, nor to dine. 
I prithee, come dance me a reel, carp, 
I prithee, come dance me a reel— 
I thank you, my Lord, I’ve no taste for your board, 
You'd much better play to the eel. 
St. George he was for England, 
St. Denis he was for France, 
St. Patrick taught the Irishman, 
To tune the merry harp. 
At the bottom of this slimy pool, 
There lurks a crafty carp, 
Were he at the bottom of my line, 
How merrily he would dance.” 
In a very remarkable old work, written nobody 
knows when, by nobody knows who, but first pub- 
lished in 1480, under the title of Dialogus Creaturam 
Moralizatus, the carp does not figure to such great 
advantage as a prudent and cunning fish. It appears, 
according to the moraliser, that at a great fish festival, 
the carp and grayling quarrelled, as their betters have 
often done, on the rather delicate point of precedency. 
“T bask in the favour of the great and powerful,” said 
the carp ; “ even man condescends to take care of me, 
and make ponds for my special use and protection.” 
“ But,” retorted the grayling, “look at my elegant 
form and glittering scales ; I am much handsomer than 
you are.” The other fishes commencing to side with 
the contending parties, a scene of general strife seemed 
imminent, when the wily old trout restored peace to 
