THE TBOUT. 155 



And to the shelving shore slow dragging some, 

 With various hand proportion'd to their force." 



And thus he proceeds, giving by the way good advice 

 to fishermen who, I suppose on the principle that." little 

 fish are swee't," do nut always return to the river their 

 undersized captures. 



" 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 enjoy 'd the vital light of heaven, 

 Soft disengage, and hack into the stream 

 The speckled captive throw. But should you lure 

 iVom this dark haunt beneath the tangled roots 

 Of pendant tree the monarch of the brook, 

 Behoves you then to ply your finest art. 

 Long time he, following cautious, scans the fly, 

 And oft attempts to seize it, hut 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 lengthen'd 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 

 That feels him still, yet to his furious course 

 Gives way, you now retiring, following now 

 Across the stream, exhaust his idle rage ; 

 Till floating broad upon his breathless side, 

 And to his fate ahandon'd, to the shore 

 You gaily drag your unresisting prize." 



I have already ventured to say that " life is too short 

 wherein to tie one's own flies." But if any one fancies 

 to do so, he can learn much by way of book-learning 

 from Mr. Francis and Mr. Pennell, from Eonald's Fly- 



