THE CONFERENCE. 69 



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 possess'd 



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 smiled. 



Joan takes her neat-rubbed 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 rcse 

 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 ; 



