Or on the green bank, seated still,
With quick eye guard the dancing quill.
Thrice happy sage! who, distant far
From the wrangling forum's war,
From the city's bustling train,
From the busy hum of men,
Haunt some gentle stream, and ply
Your honest crafts, to lure the fry;
And while the world around you set
The base decoy and treacherous net,
Man against man, th' insidious wile,
Or, the rich dotard to beguile,
Bait high with gifts the smiling hook
All gilt with flattery's sweetest look ;
Arm'd for the innocent deceit,
You love the scaly brood to cheat,
And tempt that water-wolf, the pike,
With rav'ning tooth his prey to strike,
Or in the minnow's living head,
Or in the writhed brandling red
Fix your well-charged hook, to gull
The greedy perch, bold biting fool;
Or with the tender moss-worm tried
Win the nice trout's speckled pride,
Or on the carp, whose wary eye
Admits no vulgar tackle nigh,
Essay your art's supreme address,
And beat the fox in sheer finesse :
The tench, physician of the brook,
Owns the magic of your hook,
The little gudgeon's thoughtless haste
Yields a brief yet sweet repast;
And the whisker'd barbel pays
His coarser bulk to swell your praise.