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Next, I shall tell you, that though they make very hard shift to
get out of
the fresh rivers into the sea yet they will make harder shift to
get out of
the salt into the fresh rivers, to spawn, or possess the pleasures
that they
have formerly found in them: to which end, they will force themselves
through floodgates, or over weirs, or hedges, or stops in the water,
even
to a height beyond common belief. Gesner speaks of such places as
are
known to be above eight feet high above water. And our Camden
mentions, in his Britannia, the like wonder to be in Pembrokeshire,
where the river Tivy falls into the sea; and that the fall is so
downright,
and so high, that the people stand and wonder at the strength and
sleight
by which they see the Salmon use to get out of the sea into the
said
river; and the manner and height of the place is so notable, that
it is
known, far, by the name of the Salmon-leap. Concerning which, take
this also out of Michael Drayton, my honest old friend; as he tells
it
you, in his Polyolbion:
And when the Salmon seeks a fresher stream to find;
(Which hither from the sea comes, yearly, by his kind,)
As he towards season grows; and stems the watry tract
Where Tivy, falling down, makes an high cataract,
Forc'd by the rising rocks that there her course oppose,
As tho' within her bounds they meant her to inclose;
Here when the labouring fish does at the foot arrive,
And finds that by his strength he does but vainly strive;
His tail takes in his mouth, and, bending like a bow
That's to full compass drawn, aloft himself doth throw,
Then springing at his height, as doth a little wand
That bended end to end, and started from man's hand,
Far off itself doth cast, so does that Salmon vault;
And if, at first, he fail, his second summersault
He instantly essays, and, from his nimble ring
Still yerking, never leaves until himself he fling
Above the opposing stream.
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