64 NOTES ON FISH AND PISHING. 



The screech-owl's or raven's wing 



For making flies are just the thing. 



Should thunder roll, from the Darren shore 



I boh for eels in the crimson gore ; 



A human skull is my live-bait can ; 



My ground-bait the crumbling bones of man ; 



My lusty old coffin for punt I take 



To angle by night in the phantom lake. 



While Dante's wing'd demons are hovering o'er 



The skeleton trout of the crimson gore, 



To the blood-red phantom lake I go, 



"While vampyre-bats flit to and fro. 



Scene the Second. — {Sunrise.) 



The owl is at roost in his ivy'd bower, 



The bat hangs up in the old church-tower, 



The raven's head is beneath his wing, 



The skeleton sleeps with the bony king, 



The fierce hyaena has left the grave 



To seek repose in his darksome cave. 



The author of this piscatorial treat 



Is the far-famed E. Davis, of King "William Street ; 



Twenty-one is the number o'erlooking the Strand ; 



His prices are lowest of all in the land." 



Before Mr. Davis moved into King William Street, in 

 consequence of the demolition of that delightful old lounge 

 for "fishy" people, Hungerford Market, the puff ended, — 



" The author of this — take pencil and mark it — 

 Is the far-famed E. Davis, of Hungerford Market." 



Mr. Davis now carries on his business in Russell Street, 

 Covent Garden, and recently showed me some ghastly 

 illustrations of the above lines, in which, if he will allow 

 me to say so, be has evidenced, at least in my opinion, no 

 little poetical imagination. 



Asa kind of cross between prose and poetry I may 

 here mention Moule's Heraldry of Fish, Notices of the 



