The flower the sun enjoys, and th' ambient air, 75 Its painted leaf unfolds, and blooms afar; 80 So we, with Son and Holy Spirit blest, Our heads lift up, and on Their influence rest. Re-echo now the birds their mutual lay, Invoking with their mirth the tuneful day; 85 Night yields, enchanted by his magic throat. 90 Who matins sing to greet the rising sun, Yea, e'en before he rise, the song begun? The day too short to measure their sweet voice, All night their praise to offer they rejoice. Shall mortal man commence his daily toil, 95 His earthly pleasures and his duty spoil, Neglect his morning praise, his daily prayer, And mingles prayer and praise to Him who saves 100 Our body, soul, who with His outstretched arm Defends us mortals, and protects from harm? If Spring, advancing, cheers our earthborn frames, With worldly mirth, alas! we find too soon 105 A curse our every joy,-a curse the boon, A curse, unless in us the heavenly seed Once sown by grace springs up to life indeed. Of old 'twas argued, Which promoted most Of earthly happiness that man can boast? 110 Some contemplation reckoned to hold sway As to the enjoyment of our transient day; Some action thought to hold the foremost place, The happiness to crown of human race. The Spring invites the happy hour to gain 115 The enjoyment equal of them both; they twain Combined the patient angler now enjoys— He fishes, contemplates, away from noise; Thus contemplation, action, fill the hour Of happy pastime, and their bliss secure. 120 Inspired old Walton, in poetic lay, Describes the virtue of a fishing day: A southern breeze to curl the lucid stream, A sun which shines without too bright a beam. Fish you with fly, your rod must tapering be; 125 Your line, as well from knot and kinkling free, With steady curve must veer its round in air, So not to lose your fly, nor snap the tender hair; With graceful motion guide the flowing line, Nor up nor down, across the stream incline: 130 When hooked, your victim play with careful hand, With clumsy careless pull, no fish you'll land: On mercy bent, your captured fish straight kill, And spare them pain ere they your pannier fill. Fish, flesh, and fowl alike to us are sent 135 For food and use, not cruel torment, meant. B Alike the same applies to harmless worms: The generous heart with indignation burns To watch the tortures of the wretched bait, And thoughtless anglers, callous to their fate. 140 Would fishermen in full their art enjoy, Let them with mercy all their skill employ. prove An equal tempting bait. Then would you love 145 Stain not your sport with acts of cruelty. Behold, with patient form the angler stands And distance bounded by the mountain chain. 150 Adown the vale is heard the murmuring rill; Swept with the singing breeze, their voices fill |