BROOK OE SPECKLED TROUT. 91 



unaptly termed the gentle art. It has been the 

 theme of some of the most brilliant poets of 

 modern times. No angler can read the .following 

 lines from Thompson without feeling a thrill of 

 delight : 



"Just in the dubious point, -where with the poo], 

 Is mix'd the trembling stream, or where it boils 

 Around the stone, or from the hollowed bank 

 Reverted, plays in undulating flow; 

 There throw nice-judging, the delusive fly; 

 And as you lead it round in artful curve, 

 With eye attentive mark the springing game. 

 Straight as above the surface of the flood 

 They wanton rise, or urged by hunger leap, 

 Then fix with gentle twitch, the barbed hook; 

 Some, lightly tossing to the grassy bank, 

 And to the shelving shore, slow dragging some, 

 With various hand, proportioned to their force, 

 If yet too young, and easily deceived, 

 A worthless prey scarce bends your pliant rod, 

 Him, piteous of his youth and the short space 

 He has enjoyed the vital light of Heaven, 

 Soft disengage and back into the stream 

 The speckled captive throw. But should you lure 

 From his dark haunt beneath the tangled roots 

 Of pendant trees, the monarch of the brook 

 Behooves you then to ply your finest art. 

 Long time he, following cautious, scans the fly; 

 And oft attempts to seize it, but as oft \ 

 The dimpled water speaks his jealous fear. 

 At last, while haply o'er the shaded sun 

 Passes a cloud, he desperate takes the death 

 With sullen plunge. At once he darts along, 

 Deep struck, and runs out all the lengthened line; 

 Then seeks the farthest ooze, the sheltering weed. 

 The cavern'd bank, his old secure abode , 

 And flies aloft and flounces round the pool 

 Indignant of the guile With yielding hand, 



