He that conversed with angels, such as were 

 Ouldsworth and Featley, each a shining star 

 Showing the way to Bethlem ; each a saint ; 

 (Compared to whom our zealots, now, but paint]. 

 He that our pious and learn d Morley knew, 

 And from him suck'd wit and devotion too : 

 He that from these such excellencies fetched, 

 'That he could tell how high and far they reached ; 

 What learning this, what graces tJi other had ; 

 And in what several dress each soul was clad. 



Reader, this HE, this fisherman comes forth, 



And in these fisher's weeds would shroud his worth. 



Now his mute harp is on a willow hung, 



With which when finely touctid, and fitly strung, 



He could friends' passions for these times allay ; 



Or chain his fellow-anglers from their prey. 



But now the music of his pen is still, 



And he sits by a brook watching a quill : 



Where with a fixt eye, and a ready hand, 



He studies first to hook, and then to land 



Some trout, or perch, or pike ; and having done, 



Sits on a bank, and tells how this was won, 



And that escaped his hook, which with a wile 



Did eat the bait, and fishermen beguile. 



'Thus whilst some vex they from their lands are thrown, 



He joys to think the waters are his own, 



And like the Dutch, he gladly can agree 



To live at peace now, and have fishing free. 



Aprils, 1650. 



Edw. Powel, Mr. of Arts. 



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