Illumes the stream, which to the friar shows
How high the waters o'er its margin flows.
It is supper-time now, and a fish growing bold,
On the bait as it neared him caught suddenly hold.
How the fisherman grins as the cord outward rolled,
Though he shivers, and all his teeth chatter with cold.
"How it runs! how it runs! like an arrow it flies!
I am certain," he said; "'tis a fish of great size.
For my patience, though late, I shall still gain a prize.
Sure, I think, it down straight