AN ANGLER, A HUNTER, AND A FALCONER 



This day dame Nature seem'd in love : 



The lusty sap began to move ; 



Fresh juice did stir th' embracing vines, 



And birds had drawn their valentines, 



The jealous Trout, that low did lie, 



Rose at a well dissembled fly; 



There stood my friend with patient skill, 



Attending of his trembling quill. 



Already were the eaves possest 



With the swift Pilgrim's daubed nest : 



The groves already did rejoice, 



In Philomel's triumphing voice : 



The showers were short, the weather mild, 



The morning fresh, the evening smil'd. 



Joan takes her neat rub'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 undis- 

 turbed mind of Sir Henry Wotton. Will you hear the wish of 

 another Angler, and the commendation of his happy life, which 

 he also sings in verse ? viz. Jo. Davors, Esq. ; 



Let me live 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-gotten goods t' embrace 

 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 Culverkeys. 



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