 | Miscellaneous poems and translations |  |
96
THE PLEASURES OF ANGLING.
Translated from the Musæ Anglicanæ.
The Man too great a Blessing gains,
Whose Hand the trembling Reed sustains,
Deluding with his artful Hook
The Fish recoiling to the Brook.
No Care his easy Hours annoys
Nor breaks the Series of his Joys;
He shuns the Courtier's slippery Fame,
Nor flies at Honour's empty Game.
He envies not the Miser's Gain,
That's got by Care, and kept with Pain.
He feels no anxious Client's Fate,
Nor duns the lingring Lawyer's Gate.
No Storms at Sea perplex his Mind,
He bargains with no flattering Wind.
Calm by a purling Stream from far
He flies the hoarse Alarm of War.
His angling Sports suspend his Care,
He finds a grateful Silence there,
When Jars distract th'uneasy Dome,
And all is Noise and Strife at home.
Whose Hand the trembling Reed sustains,
Deluding with his artful Hook
The Fish recoiling to the Brook.
97
Nor breaks the Series of his Joys;
He shuns the Courtier's slippery Fame,
Nor flies at Honour's empty Game.
He envies not the Miser's Gain,
That's got by Care, and kept with Pain.
He feels no anxious Client's Fate,
Nor duns the lingring Lawyer's Gate.
No Storms at Sea perplex his Mind,
He bargains with no flattering Wind.
Calm by a purling Stream from far
He flies the hoarse Alarm of War.
His angling Sports suspend his Care,
He finds a grateful Silence there,
When Jars distract th'uneasy Dome,
And all is Noise and Strife at home.
98
Soon as the Morn her Bed forsakes,
He with the Morning Vigil wakes,
With chearful Draughts his Soul he warms,
Then round him girds his various Arms;
And with a Mind whose Heav'n outvies
The Prospect of serenest Skies,
Calm o'er the Fields he bends his Way,
Insidious to the watry Prey,
Where Thames with tuneful Murmurs glides,
Or Trent descends in foaming Tides.
Around the matin Birds he hears,
And Sylvan Music glads his Ears.
The genial Sweets, which Morning show'rs.
Draw from the fragrant Bloom of Flow'rs,
Impearl'd in balmy Dews exhale,
And round him breathe th'odorous Gale,
While pleas'd he treads the furrow'd Plains,
And meditates Iambic Strains.
He with the Morning Vigil wakes,
With chearful Draughts his Soul he warms,
Then round him girds his various Arms;
And with a Mind whose Heav'n outvies
The Prospect of serenest Skies,
Calm o'er the Fields he bends his Way,
Insidious to the watry Prey,
Where Thames with tuneful Murmurs glides,
Or Trent descends in foaming Tides.
Around the matin Birds he hears,
And Sylvan Music glads his Ears.
The genial Sweets, which Morning show'rs.
Draw from the fragrant Bloom of Flow'rs,
Impearl'd in balmy Dews exhale,
And round him breathe th'odorous Gale,
99
And meditates Iambic Strains.
The Fields a grateful Scene display,
And sweetly cheat the tedious Way;
Here Vales subside, and Mountains tow'r,
There Rocks with frowning Prospect low'r,
Here Rivers, Woods, and Flocks are seen,
That browze the vegetable Green.
To the known Pail from ev'ry Grove
The lowing Heifers gladly rove,
Swell'd with ambrosial Milk they stand,
And duteous bear the stroaking Hand,
That draws the Stream with gentle Art,
And acts the filial Heifer's Part.
Hard by the infant Lambkins bleat,
And while they suck the parent Teat,
Their Heads prelude with harmless Rage
The Battels of maturer Age.
And sweetly cheat the tedious Way;
Here Vales subside, and Mountains tow'r,
There Rocks with frowning Prospect low'r,
Here Rivers, Woods, and Flocks are seen,
That browze the vegetable Green.
To the known Pail from ev'ry Grove
The lowing Heifers gladly rove,
Swell'd with ambrosial Milk they stand,
And duteous bear the stroaking Hand,
That draws the Stream with gentle Art,
And acts the filial Heifer's Part.
Hard by the infant Lambkins bleat,
And while they suck the parent Teat,
100
The Battels of maturer Age.
Now o'er the watry Verge he bends,
And first th'unrav'ling Line suspends,
Next he anoints the baited Hook,
And sinks it in the crystal Brook.
The Powers of ev'ry Worm he tries,
And all the colour'd Race of Flies,
And all the various Forms of Paste,
That charm the Eye, or please the Taste,
And ev'ry Bait that Art can wish
To feed the Luxury of Fish.
And first th'unrav'ling Line suspends,
Next he anoints the baited Hook,
And sinks it in the crystal Brook.
The Powers of ev'ry Worm he tries,
And all the colour'd Race of Flies,
And all the various Forms of Paste,
That charm the Eye, or please the Taste,
And ev'ry Bait that Art can wish
To feed the Luxury of Fish.
Thus glide the chearful Hours of Light,
Thus rise the Ev'ning Shades of Night,
He with his Thoughts Discourse can find,
With Thoughts the Actions of the Mind;
And now the arguing Sage disputes,
And now his own Surmise confutes,
Still, as the Train of Thoughts succeed,
Intent he eyes the bending Reed,
Whose dancing Corks the Victim show
That nibbles at the Bait below.
Thus rise the Ev'ning Shades of Night,
101
With Thoughts the Actions of the Mind;
And now the arguing Sage disputes,
And now his own Surmise confutes,
Still, as the Train of Thoughts succeed,
Intent he eyes the bending Reed,
Whose dancing Corks the Victim show
That nibbles at the Bait below.
But if by Fortune's gentle Care,
He finds a lov'd Companion there,
They to the peopled Wave resort,
And pleas'd pursue th'alternate Sport,
While various Scenes their Wonder raise,
And Worlds inspire their Author's Praise.
With harmless Song they chear the Dale,
Or blend with Mirth some useful Tale,
No Traitors here on Mischief plod,
No Atheist here blasphemes his God,
Nor speak They to a Fish's Ear
But what all-conscious Heav'n might hear.
He finds a lov'd Companion there,
They to the peopled Wave resort,
And pleas'd pursue th'alternate Sport,
While various Scenes their Wonder raise,
And Worlds inspire their Author's Praise.
With harmless Song they chear the Dale,
Or blend with Mirth some useful Tale,
102
No Atheist here blasphemes his God,
Nor speak They to a Fish's Ear
But what all-conscious Heav'n might hear.
When Phœbus glows with sultry Beams,
And Sweat distils in trickling Streams,
Or Jove descends in Storms of Rain,
Fast bubbling o'er the watry Plain,
When rising from his oozy Cave
Glides the swift Eel along the Wave,
Some lofty Tree's embow'ring Glade
Around them spreads a friendly Shade;
Safe they recline beneath the Wood,
The Rod still trembles o'er the Flood,
And loaded oft with scaly Spoils
With Gain rewards the pleasing Toils.
And Sweat distils in trickling Streams,
Or Jove descends in Storms of Rain,
Fast bubbling o'er the watry Plain,
When rising from his oozy Cave
Glides the swift Eel along the Wave,
Some lofty Tree's embow'ring Glade
Around them spreads a friendly Shade;
Safe they recline beneath the Wood,
The Rod still trembles o'er the Flood,
And loaded oft with scaly Spoils
With Gain rewards the pleasing Toils.
103
Then, when the rising Shades of Night
Gloom o'er the fainting Rays of Light,
Homeward the weary Angler speeds,
And on his Prey luxuriant feeds,
Then sunk in balmy Sleep he lies,
And Nature seals his slumbring Eyes
Gloom o'er the fainting Rays of Light,
Homeward the weary Angler speeds,
And on his Prey luxuriant feeds,
Then sunk in balmy Sleep he lies,
And Nature seals his slumbring Eyes
| Miscellaneous poems and translations | |