104 FLY-FISHING FOR TROUT 



Sweet day ! so cool, so calm, so bright, 

 The bridal of the Earth and Sky; 

 Sweet dews shall weep thy fall to-night, 

 For thou must die. 



Sweet rose ! whose hue, angry and brave, 

 Bids the rash gazer wipe his eye; 

 Thy root is ever in its grave, 



And thou must die. 



Sweet Spring! full of sweet days and roses, 100 

 A box where sweets compacted lie; 

 My music shows you have your closes, 

 And all must die. 



Only a sweet and virtuous soul, 

 Like season'd timber, never gives; 

 But, when the whole world turns to coal, 

 Then chiefly lives. 



Ven. I thank you, good master, for your good 

 direction for fly-fishing, and for the sweet enjoyment 

 of the pleasant day, which is, so far, spent without 110 

 offence to God or man. And I thank you for the 

 sweet close of your discourse with Mr. Herbert's 

 verses, who, I have heard, loved angling; and I do 

 the rather believe it, because he had a spirit suitable 

 to anglers, and to those primitive Christians that you 

 love and have commended. 



Pise. Well, my loving scholar, and / am pleased to 

 know that you are so well pleased with my direction 

 and discourse. And now I think it will be time to 

 repair to our angle-rods, which we left in the water 120 

 to fish for themselves, and you shall choose which 

 shall be yours; and it is an even lay one of them 



