256 THE COMPLETE ANGLER. [part i. 



Quivering fears, heart-tearing cares, 

 Anxious sighs, untimely tears, 



Fig, Jig to courts, 



Fig to fond war Idlings' sports, 

 Where strain d Sardonic smiles are glosing still, 

 And grief is fore d to laugh against her will : 



Where mirth's but mummery, 



And sorrows onlg real be. 



Fly, from our country pastimes, fly, 

 Sad troops of human misery. 



Come, serene looks, 



Clear as the crystal brooks, 

 Or the pure azur'd heaven, that smiles to see 

 The rich attendance of our poverty : 



Peace and a secure mind, 



Which all men seek, we onlg find. 



Abused mortals, did gou know 



Where joy, heart' s-ease, and comforts, grow, 



You'd scorn proud towers, 



And seek them in these bowers ; 

 Where winds, sometimes, our woods perhaps mag shake, 

 But blust'ring care could never tempest make ; 



Nor murmurs e'er come nigh us, 



Saving of fountains that glide bg us. 



Here's no fantastic masque, nor dance, 

 But of our kids that frisk and prance ; 



Nor wars are seen, 



Unless upon the green 



