That better on his hook they may abide;
And of the wasp the white and tender brood;
And worms that breed on every herb and tree;
And sundry flies that quick and lively be.
For the Dace.
Then look where as that poplar gray doth grow,
Hard by the same where one doth closely stand
And with the wind his hook and bait doth throw
Amid the stream with slender hazel wand,
Where as he sees the dace themselves do show.
His eye is quick and ready is his hand
And when the fish doth rise to catch the bait,
He presently doth strike, and takes her straight.
O world's deceit! how are we thralled by thee.
Thou dost thy gall in sweetest pleasures hide!
When most we think in happiest state to be,
Then do we soonest into danger slide.
Behold the fish, that even now was free,
Unto the deadly hook how he is tied!
So vain delights allure us to the snare,
Wherein un'wares we fast entangled are.
For the Carp.
But now again see where another stands
And strains his rod that double seems to bend!
Lo how he leads and guides him with his hands
Lest that his line should break or angle rend;
Then with a net, see how at last he lands
A mighty carp, and has him in the end!
So large he is of body, scale and bone
That rod and all had like to have been gone.
