The Angler with well-practis’d art,
Play’d, hook’d, and drew her to the shore.
Lur’d by the beauty of the day,
The sun now sinking in the sky,
A sage pursu’d his walk that way,
And saw the bleeding victim lie.
Far in the vale of years declin’d,
He watch’d the course of nature’s law;
And thus with philosophic mind,
He moralis’d on what he saw: