EIGHTEENTH CENTURY. 123 



If the sun's excessive heat 

 Make our bodies swelter, 

 To an osier hedge we get 

 For a friendly shelter ; 



Where in a dyke 



Pearch or pike, 



Roach or dace, 



We do chase, 



Bleak or gudgeon, 



Without grudging ; 

 We are still contented. 



Or we sometimes pass an hour 

 Under a green willow, 

 That defends us from a shower, 

 Making earth our pillow ; 



Where we may 



Think and pray, 

 Before death 

 Stops our breath 



Other joys 

 Are but toys 

 And to be lamented." 



The following lines are from the pen of Dr. Donne : 



" Come, live with me, and be my love, 

 And we will some new pleasures prove, 

 Of golden sands, and crystal brooks, 

 With silken lines, and silver hooks. 



There will the river whispering run, 

 Warmed by thy eyes more than the sun ; 

 And there the enamell'd fish will stay, 

 Begging themselves they may betray. 



