The Escape.

ON a Streams Bank I saw her stand,
A plyant Angle in her Hand.
I markt how she disguis'd the Hook,
And cast her Bait into the Brook.
The sport succeeded to her wish,
For strait she hung a pondrous Fish;
But too too eager on her Prey,
Resus'd to give the Captive Play
Till Tir'd, himself he woud resign;
But trusting to her slender Line,
The struggling Animal enrag'd,
With the rude check soon Disengag'd
His wounded Jaws; but whilst He thus Regains
His Liberty, the bearded wire remains
And galls his tender Gills with restless Pains.

II.

Is't not enough inhumane Maid,
That we are by thy Wiles betray'd,
But you your Treach'ry must employ,
The Floods Inhabitants to destroy?
This Fish has my hard fortune shar'd,
When first by thy false Charms Ensnar'd;
For so I gorg'd the Bait you threw;
Whilst (on your game too Eager) you
Came violently to seize your Prey,
Which with hard struggling broke away.
But to what purpose am I Free,
Living in painful Liberty. 
In vain I boast, that I survive the Dart
Whose Venom'd Pile lies festring in my Heart,
And (tho it kill not) galls with restless smart.