by Peter Pindar
Why flyest thou away with fear?
Trust me there’s nought of danger near;
I have no wicked hooke,
All covered with a snaring bait,
Alas! to tempt thee to thy fate,
And drag thee from thy brook.
Oh, harmless tenant of the flood,
I do not wish to spill thy blood;
For nature unto thee
Perchance hath given a tender wife,
And children dear, to charm thy life,
As she hath done for me.
Enjoy thy stream, oh, harmless fish;
And when an angler for his dish,
Through gluttony’s vile sin,
Attempts, a wretch, to pull thee out,
God give thee strength, Oh, gentle trout.
To pull the rascal in!