CHAP. XVI. THE COMPLETE ANGLER. 189 



There came also into my mind at that time, certain 

 verses in praise of a mean estate and humble mind : they 

 were written by Phineas Fletcher ; l an excellent divine, 



(1) It would be great injustice to the memory of tin's person, whose name is 

 now haidly known, lo pass by him without notice. The son of Giles Fletcher, 

 Doctor of Laws, and ambassador from Queen Elizabeth to the Duke of Mus- 

 covy. Phineai Fletcher was fellow of King's College, Cambridge, and the 

 author of a fine allegorical poem, entitled, the Purple Island, printed at Cam- 

 bridge, with other of his poems, in 4to. J6.33; from whence the passage in the 

 text, with a little variation, is taken. The reader will not be displeased with 

 a more entire quotation from that work; which, from its elegant pastoral sim- 

 plicity, I could wish to see equalled. 



Let others trust the seas, dare death and hell, 

 Search either hide, vaunt of their scars and wounds; 



Let others their dear breath (nay, silence) sell 

 To fools; aud (swoln, not rich) stretch out their bounds, 



By spoiling those, that live, and wronging dead ; 



That they may drink in pearl, and couch their head 



In soft, but sleepless down ; in rich, but restlesse bed. 



Oh ! let them in their gold quaff dropsies down; 



Oh ! let them surfeits feast in silver bright; 

 While sugar hires the taste the brain to drown, 



And bribes of sauce corrupt false appetite, 

 His master's rest, health, heart, life, soul to sell. 

 Thus plenty, fulness, sickness, ring their knell ; 

 Death weds and beds them ; first in grave, and then in hell. 



But, ah ! let me, under some Kentish hill, 



Near rolling Medway, 'mong my shepherd peers, 

 With fearless merry-make and piping, still 



Sfccuraly pass my few and slow-pac'd years : 



While yet the great Augustus * of our nation [ K. James I.J 



Shuts up old Janus in this long cessation, 

 'Strength'uing our pleasing ease, aud gives us sure vacation. 



There may I, master of a little flock, 



Feed my poor lambs, and often change their fare. 

 My lovely mate shall tend my sparing stock, 



And nurse my little ones with pleasing care, 

 Whose love and look shall speak their father plain. 

 Health be my feast ; heaven hope ; content my gain ; 

 So in my little house my lesser heart shall reign. 



The beech shall yield a cool safe canopy, 



While dowu I sit, and chaunt to th' echoing wood. 

 Ah ! siuging might I live, and singing die ; 



So by fair Thames or silver Med way's flood, 

 The dying swan, when years her temples pierce, 

 In music-strains breathes out her life and verse; 

 Aud, chaunting her own dirge, tides on her watry hearse. 



Purple liland, Canto I. 



The innocence of angling, the delightful scenes with which it is conversant, 

 and its associated pleasures of ease, retirement, aud meditation, have been a 

 motive to the introduction of a new species of eclogue, where fishers are actors. 



