Beneath a willow, long forsook,
The fisher seeks his 'custom’d nook;
And bursting through the crackling sedge,
That crowns the current’s cavern’d edge,
He startles from the bordering wood
The bashful wild-duck’s early brood.
O’er the broad downs, a novel race,
Frisk the lambs with faltering pace,
And with eager bleatings fill
The foss that skirts the beacon’d hill.