241 THE COMPLETE ANGLER. 



j\'or ivars are seen, 



Uii/ets upon the green 

 Two harinhss lambs are butting one the other. 

 Which done, both bleating run each to his mother : 



And wounds are never found. 



Save what the ploughshare gives the ground 



Here are no entrapping baits 

 To hasten to too hasty fates, — 



Unless it be 



The fond credulity 

 Of silly fish, tvhich, tvorldling like, still look 

 Upon the bait, but )iever on the hook ; — 



A^or envy, 'less among 



The birds for prize of their sweet song. 



Go, let the diving negro seek 



For gems hid in some forlorn creek: 



We all jiearls scorn. 



Save what the dewy morn 

 Congeals upon each little spire of grass. 

 Which careless shepherds beat down as they pass ; 



And gold Jie'er here appears. 



Save what the yellow Ceres bears. 



Blest silent groves, oh may you be 

 For ever mirth's best nursery ! 



May pure contents 



For ever pitch their tents 

 Upon these dozens, these meads, these rocks, these mountains. 

 And peace still slumber by these purling fountains; 

 Which we may every year 



Meet when we come a fishing here. 



Vise. Trust me, Scholar, I thank you heartily for these verses; 

 they be choicely good, and doubtless made by a lover of angling. 

 Come, now, drink a glass to me, and I will requite you with 

 anotlier very good copy : it is a ftirewell to the vanities of the 

 world, and, some say, written by Sir Harry Wotton, who, I told 

 you, was an excellent angler.* But let them be writ by whom 



• In the first and second editions Walton wrote, " some say written by 

 Dr. D. (Donne) :" " But let them be writ by whom they will, he that writ 

 them hiid a brave pouI, and must needs be possest with happie thoughts, 

 at the time of their composure ; « and I hope he was an Angler' (second 



