Gladly from thee, I’m lured to bear With things that seem’d most vile before, For thou didst on poor subjects rear Matter the wisest sage might hear. And with a grace, That doth efface More labour’d works, thy simple lore Can teach us that thy skilful _lines_, More than the scaly brood _confines_. Our hearts and senses, too, we see, Rise quickly at thy master hand, And, ready to be caught by thee, Are lured to virtue willingly. Content and peace, With health and ease, Walk by thy side. At thy command We bid adieu to worldly care, And joy in gifts that all may share. Gladly, with thee, I pace along, And of sweet fancies dream; Waiting till some inspired song, Within my memory cherish’d long, Comes fairer forth, With more of worth; Because that time upon its stream Feathers and chaff will bear away, But give to gems a brighter ray. C. C. 1812. And though the charming and intellectual author of this poem is not an angler herself, yet I can quote the example of her lovely daughters to vindicate fly fishing from the charge of cruelty, and to prove that the most delicate and refined minds can take pleasure in this innocent amusement. One of these young ladies, I am told, is a most accomplished and skilful salmon fisher. And if you require a poetical authority against that of Lord Byron, I mention the philosophical and powerful poet of the lakes, and the author of “An Orphic tale indeed, A tale divine, of high and passionate thoughts, To their own music chanted;”[2] who is a lover both of fly fishing and fly fishermen. Gay’s poem you know, and his passionate fondness for the amusement, which was his principal occupation in the summer at Amesbury; and the late excellent John Tobin, author of the Honey Moon, was an ardent angler. PHYS.—I am satisfied with your poetical authorities.