CHAP. L. THE COMPLETE ANGLER. 



The showers were short, the weather mild, 

 The morning fresh, the evening smil'd. 



Joan takes her neat-rubb'd pail ; and, now, 

 She trips to milk the sand-red Cow, 

 Where, for some sturdy foot-ball swain, 

 Joan strokes a syllabub or twain. 

 The fields and gardens were beset 

 With Tulips, Crocus, Violet : 

 And now, though late, the modest Rose, 

 Did more than half a blush disclose. 



Thus all looks gay, and full of cheer, 



To welcome the new livery'd year. 



These were the thoughts that then possessed the un- 

 disturbed mind of Sir Henry Wotton. Will you hpar 

 the wish of another Angler, and the commendation of 

 his happy life, which he also sings in verse ; vix. Jo . 

 Davors, Esq. 



Let me lire harmlessly ; and near the brink 

 Of Trent or Avon have a dwelling-place, 



Where I may see my quill, or cork, down sink 

 With eager bite of Perch, or Bleak, or Dace; 



And on the world and my Creator think : 



Whilst some men strive ill-gotteu goods t' embrace j 



And others spend their time in base excess 



Of wine, or, worse, in war and wantonness : 



Let them that list, these pastimes still pursue, 

 And on such pleasing fancies feed their fill ; 



So I the Fields and Meadows green may view, 

 And daily by fresh Rivers walk at will, 



Among the Daisies and the Violets blue, 

 Red Hyacinth, and yellow Daffodil, 



Purple Narcissus like the morning rays, 



Pale Gander-grass, and azure Culver-keyei : 



I count it higher pleasure, To behold 



The stately compass of the lofty sky ; 

 And in the midst thereof, like burning gold, 



The flaming chariot of the world's great eye-; 

 The watry clouds, that in the air up-roll'd, 



With sundry kinds of painted colours fly ; 

 H 4 



