THERE is a Fish, to Fishers say,
Of mood so giddy and so gay;
So fond of glare and dazzling light,
That even in the darkest night,
'Twill crowd thereto in sportive play,
And e'en more ready than by day
Become the wily Fisher's prey.
Needs neither baited hook nor net:
A blazing torch, his only lure,
Fix'd in his boat, is far more sure
Than bow-net, seine, or hook and bait,
His skiff in little time to freight.
As up and down the stream they float;
The fish enchanted with the light
That makes a mimic day of night,
From far and near toward the blaze
Directing their enraptur'd gaze,
Swim up in shoals, and sport around,
Till giddy with delight they bound
Into the fisher's bark, and there
Forseit their life for love of glare.
Those who on Love or Pleasure bent,
Leave their own home and element;
And wander far to court the grace
Or win the smile of stranger face,
Of whom they nothing farther know,
Than their mere outward charm and show,
Have frequent reason to repent
They were not with their home content;
And like the fishes of our tale,
Their folly, when too late, bewail.
Wooers and wooed! to both of you,
Alike applies a maxim true,
Which cannot be too oft repeated: -
Who far away a-courting goes,
Where one of t'other little knows,
Or goes to cheat- or to be cheated.
FALLITUR ignotis, aut fallit amator in oris.
UT cephalum Venetis fallat piscator in oris,
Praesiget parvae lumina magna reti:
Mox piscis, quà teda micat, salit, inque phaselum
Cùm ruit, in praedam navita promptus aest.
Quid tibi cum flammis, cum sint tua regna sub undis,
Quid salis in Cymbam stulte, natare tuam est:
Ni cupiat vel fraude capi, vel fallere quemquàm,
Errat, in ignoto littore si quis amat.
Domus amica, domus optima.
THE finger of God points to home, and says to us all, ''There is the place to find
your earthly joy!''REV.J.ABBOTT.
If you find a young man who does not love home, whose taste is formed for other
joys, who can see no happiness in the serene enjoyment of the domestic circle, you may
depend upon it he is not to be trusted.- Ibid.
MY Light is best maintain'd with little Oyle,
Too much of that which feeds me, doth me spoile.
Deluge of waters drownes the fertile ground,
Soft dropping raines makes it with grasse abound:
Riot in cheere the body kils and minde,
The meanest fare, the best for both we finde:
Rather in Mica than Apollo dine,
If you wouldst wit and health still to be thine.
FARLIE'S Emblems.
REST CONTENT WHERE THOU ART
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