A LAY OF THE LEA. 203 
Ne’er should angler stroll, 
Ledger, dap, or troll, 
Without Izaak in his pouch, on the banks of Lea ;— 
Ne’er with worm or fly, 
Trap the finny fry, 
Without loving thoughts of him, and—Benediette / 
So to sport again, 
With my palmers twain— 
Ha! a lovely speckled trout—-where’s its peer, I 
wonder ? 
And there’s a dace—you ne’er 
Saw finer, I declare— 
There’s—by all that’s cruel, yes—there’s my CERBERUS 
yonder ! 
Up go rod and tackle! 
Up go midge and hackle! 
Hurry scurry, down the path, fast my foe approaches— 
Wheel the line in steady ! 
Now all's right and ready— 
Izaak makes a sudden plunge ’mongst the bleak and 
roaches. 
Hollo, hollo, hollo! 
Will he dare to follow ? 
Over dykes, with flying leaps—over gates and hedges ! 
