A Concise Treatise on the Art of Angling ...

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T. Plummer, 1808 - Всего страниц: 186

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Стр. 91 - To frame the little animal, provide All the gay hues that wait on female pride, Let nature guide thee; sometimes golden wire The shining bellies of the fly require ; The peacock's plumes thy tackle must not fail, Nor the dear purchase of the sable's tail. Each gaudy bird some slender tribute brings, And lends the growing insect proper wings : Silks of all colours must their aid impart, And ev'ry fur promote the fisher's art.
Стр. 141 - Brings home to us, and makes both Indies ours : Finds wealth where 'tis, bestows it where it wants, Cities in deserts, woods in cities plants ; So that to us no thing, no place is strange, While his fair bosom is the world's exchange.
Стр. 141 - Thames ! the most lov'd of all the Ocean's sons By his old sire, to his embraces runs, Hasting to pay his tribute to the sea, Like mortal life to meet eternity...
Стр. 138 - Of pendent trees, 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, but as oft The dimpled water speaks his jealous fear.
Стр. 44 - And looking lively gratitude. At last, The clouds consign their treasures to the fields ; And, softly shaking on the dimpled pool Prelusive drops, let all their moisture flow, In large effusion, o'er the freshened world. The stealing shower is scarce to patter heard, By such as wander through the forest walks, Beneath the' umbrageous multitude of leaves.
Стр. 1 - But crystal currents glide within their bounds ; The finny brood their wonted haunts forsake, Float in the sun, and skim along the lake ; With frequent leap they range the shallow streams, Their silver coats reflect the dazzling beams : Now let the fisherman his toils prepare, And arm himself with every watery snare ; His hooks, his lines, peruse with careful eye, Increase his tackle, and his rod re-tie.
Стр. 134 - Resounds the living surface of the ground: Nor undelightful is the ceaseless hum, To him who muses through the woods at noon...
Стр. 137 - But let not on thy hook the tortur'd worm, Convulsive, twist in agonizing folds ; Which, by rapacious hunger swallow'd deep, Gives, as you tear it from the bleeding breast Of the weak helpless uncomplaining wretch, Harsh pain, and horror to the tender hand.
Стр. 107 - Mark well the various seasons of the year, How the succeeding insect race appear ; In this revolving moon one colour reigns, Which in the next the fickle trout disdains. Oft...
Стр. 157 - The patient fisher takes his silent stand, Intent his angle trembling in his hand : With looks unmoved, he hopes the scaly breed And eyes the dancing cork and bending reed.

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