IZAAK WALTON AND HIS FRIENDS 217 



And view thy Silver stream, 

 When gilded by a Summer's Beam, 

 And in it all thy wanton Fry 



Playing at liberty, 

 And with my Angle upon them. 



The All of Treachery 

 I ever learn'd to practise and to try ! 



Such streams Rome's yellow Tiber cannot shoAv, 



Th' Iberian Tagus, nor Ligurian Po ; 



The Meuse, the Danube, and the Rhine, 



Are puddle-water all compar'd with thine ; 



And Loire's pure streams yet too polluted are 



With thine much purer to compare : 



The rapid Garonne, and the winding Seine 



Are both too mean, 



Beloved Dove, with thee 



To vie priority : 

 Nay, Tame and Isis, when conjoyn'd, submit, 

 And lay their Trophies at thy Silver Feet. 



Oh my beloved Rocks ! that rise 



To awe the Earth, and brave the Skies, 



From some aspiring Mountain's crown 



How dearly do I love, 

 Giddy with pleasure, to look down, 

 And from the Vales to view the noble heights above ! 

 Oh my beloved Caves ! from Dog-star heats 

 And hotter Persecution safe Retreats, 



