But when the golden chariot of the sun,
Departing from our northern countries far
Beyond the Balance, now his course hath run
And goes to warm the cold Antarctic star;
And summer's heat is almost spent and done:
With new approach of winter's dreadful war;
Then do the fish withdraw into the deep,
And low from sight and cold more close do keep.
Then on your lines you may have store of lead
And bigger corks of any size you will,
And where the fish are usèd to be fed
There shall you lay upon the bottom still:
And whether that your bait be corn or bread
Or worms or paste, it doth not greatly skill;
For these alone are to be usèd then
Until the spring or summer come again.
Thus have I showed how fish of divers kind
Best taken are, and how their baits to know:
But Phœbus now beyond the western Ind,
Beginneth to descend and draweth low;
And well the weather serves, and gentle wind.
Down with the tide and pleasant stream to row
Unto some place where we may rest us in,
Until we shall another time begin.
The end of the Second Book.
