THE NORTH-WESTERN COUNTIES 199 



And the Severn is a river of nearly the same nature, 

 both in its navigable character and angling capabilities. 

 It has long been celebrated for the number and variety 

 of its fish. Michael Drayton, nearly two centuries and 

 a half ago, sang its praises in this respect. Hear what 

 he says — 



" I throw my crystal arms along the flowery valleys, 

 Which, lying sleek and smooth as any garden alleys, 

 Do give me leave to play, whilst they do court my stream. 

 And crown my winding banks with many an anadem ; 

 My silver-scaled sculls about my streams do sweep, 

 Now in the shallow fords, now in the falling deep : 

 So that of every kind, the new spawned nmnerons fry 

 Seem in me as the sands that on my shore do lie. 

 The barbel, than which fish a braver dotb not swim, 

 Nor gi'eater for the ford within my spacious brim, 

 Nor (newly taken) more the curious taste, doth please 

 The grayling, whose great spawn is big as any pease ; 

 The perch with pricking fins, against the pike prepared, 

 As nature had thereon bestowed this stronger guard. 

 His daintiness to keep (each curious palate's proof) 

 From his vile ravenous foe : next him I name the ruflfe. 

 His very near ally, and both for scale and fin. 

 In taste, and for his bait (indeed) bis next of kin. 

 The pretty slender dare, of many called the dace. 

 Within my liquid glass, when Phoebus looks his face, 

 Oft swiftly as he swims, his silver belly shows, 

 But with such nimble flight, that ere ye can disclose 

 His shape, out of your sight like lightning he is shot ; 

 The trout by nature marked with many a crimson spot, 

 As though she curious were in him above the rest, 

 And, of fresh -water fish, did note him for the best; 

 The roach, whose common kind to every flood doth fall ; 

 The chub (whose neater name which some a chevin call). 

 Food to the tyrant pike (most being in his power). 

 Who for their numerous store he most doth them devour ; 

 The lusty salmon then, from Neptune's watery realm, 

 When as his season serves, stemming my tideful stream, 

 Then being in his kind, in me his pleasure takes 

 (For whom the fisher then all other game forsakes). 

 Which, bending of himself to the fashion of a ring. 

 Above the forced wears, himself doth nimbly fling. 

 And often when the net hath dragged him safe to land. 

 Is seen by natural force to 'seape his murderer's hand ; 

 Whose grain doth rise in flakes, with fatness interlarded, 

 Of many a liquorish lip, that highly is regarded. 

 And Humber, to whose waste I pay my watery store. 



