CHAP. XXI.] THE COMPLETE ANGLER. 22Q 



amongst some of Sir Henry Wotton's, and doubtless made 

 either by him or by a lover of Angling. Come, Master, now 

 drink a glass to me, and then I will pledge you, and fall to my 

 repetition ; it is a description of such country recreations as I 

 have enjoyed since I had the happiness to fall into your com- 

 ply. 



'* Quivering fears, heart-tearing cares, 

 Anxious sighs, untimely tears, 



Fly, fly to courts, 



Fly to fond worldlings' sports, 

 Where strained sardonic smiles are glozing still, 

 And Grief is forced to laugh against her will t 



Where mirth 's but mummery, 



And sorrows only real be. 



" Fly, from our country pastimes, fly, 

 Sad troops of human misery. 



Come, serene looks, 



Clear as the crystal brooks, 

 Or the pure azured heaven, that smiles to sec 

 The rich attendance of our poverty : 



Peace and a secure mind, 



Which all men seek, we only find. 



"Abused mortals, did you know 



Where joy, heart' s-ease, and comforts grow, 



You 'd scorn proud towers, 



And seek them in these bowers ; 



Where winds, sometimes, our woods perhaps may shake, 

 But blust'ring care could never tempest make ; 



Nor murmurs e'er come nigh us, 



Saving of fountains that glide by us. 



" Here 's no fantastic masque, nor dance, 

 But of our kids that frisk and prance ; 



Nor wars are seen, 



Unless upon the green 



Two harmless lambs are butting one the other, 

 Which done, both bleating run each to his mother t 



And wounds are never found, 



Save what the ploughshare gives the ground, 



