74; COMMENDATORY VERSES. 



TO MY DEAR FRIEND 



MR. IZ. WALTON ; 



IN 



PRAISE OF ANGLING; 



WHICH WE BOTH LOVE. 



DOWN by this smooth stream's wand'ring side, 



Adorn'd and perfum'd with the pride 



Of Flora's wardrobe, where the shrill 



Aerial choir express their skill 



First, in alternate melody ; 



And, then, in chorus all agree 



Whilst the charm'd fish, as extasy'd 



With sounds, to his own throat deny 'd, 



Scorns his dull element, and springs 



I' th' air, as if his fins were wings. 



Tis here that pleasures sweet and high 

 Prostrate to our embraces lie : 

 Such as to body, soul or fame, 

 Create no sickness, sin or shame : 

 Roses, not fenc'd with pricks, grow here; 

 No sting to th' honey-bag is near; 

 But, what's perhaps their prejudice, 

 They difficulty want and price. 



