At a brandling once Gudgeon would gape, But they seem upon different terms now; Have they taken advice Of the "_Council of Nice_," And rejected their "_Diet of Worms_," now? In vain my live minnow I spin, Not a Pike seems to think it worth snatching; For the gut I have brought, I had better have bought A good _rope_ that was used to _Jack-ketching_! Not a nibble has ruffled my cork, It is vain in this river to search then; I may wait till it's night, Without any bite And at _roost-time_ have never a _Perch_ then! No Roach can I meet with--no Bleak, Save what in the air is so sharp now; Not a Dace have I got, And I fear it is not "Carpe diem," a day for the Carp now! Oh! there is not a one-pound prize To be got in this fresh-water-lottery! What then can I deem Of so fishless a stream But that 'tis--like St. Mary's--_Ottery_! For an Eel I have learned how to try, By a method of Walton's own showing-- But a fisherman feels Little prospect of Eels, In a path that's devoted to towing! I have tried all the water for miles, Till I'm weary of dipping and casting, And hungry and faint-- Let the Fancy just paint What it is, _without Fish_, to be _Fasting_! And the rain drizzles down very fast, While my dinner-time sounds from a far bell-- So, wet to the skin, I'll e'en back to my inn, Where at least I am sure of a _Bar-bell_! ODE TO THE ADVOCATES FOR THE REMOVAL OF SMITH-FIELD MARKET. "Sweeping our flocks and herds."--DOUGLAS. O Philanthropic men!-- For this address I need not make apology-- Who aim at clearing out the Smithfield pen, And planting further off its vile Zoology-- Permit me thus to tell, I like your efforts well, For routing that great nest of Hornithology! Be not dismay'd, although repulsed at first, And driven from their Horse, and Pig, and Lamb parts, Charge on!--you shall upon their hornworks burst, And carry all their _Bull_-warks and their _Ram_-parts. Go on, ye wholesale drovers! And drive away the Smithfield flocks and herds! As wild as Tartar-Curds, That come so fat, and kicking, from their clovers; Off with them all!--those restive brutes, that vex Our streets, and plunge, and lunge, and butt, and battle; And save the female sex From being cow'd--like Ioe--by the cattle! Fancy,--when droves appear on The hill of Holborn, roaring from its top,-- Your ladies--ready, as they own, to drop, Taking themselves to Thomson's with a _Fear-on!_ Or, in St. Martin's Lane, Scared by a Bullock, in a frisky vein,-- Fancy the terror of your timid daughters, While rushing souse Into a coffee-house, To find it--Slaughter's! Or fancy this:-- Walking along the street, some stranger Miss, Her head with no such thought of danger laden, When suddenly 'tis "Aries Taurus Virgo!"-- You don't know Latin, I translate it ergo, Into your Areas a Bull throws the Maiden!