Slowly decrease, and the faint glimmering light,
First trembles in the east, we hasten forth,
To seek the rushing river’s wandering wave.
The doubtful gloom shall favour our approach,
And should we through th’ o’erhanging bushes view
The dim-discovered flock, the well-aim’d shot
Shall have insur’d success, nor leave the day
To be consum’d in vain. For shy the game,
Nor easy of access: the fowler’s toils
Precarious; but inur’d to ev’ry chance,