The Compleat Angler

Forsideomslag
Clarendon Press, 1915 - 398 sider

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Side 57 - 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...
Side 58 - Whilst some men strive ill-gotten goods t' embrace; And others spend their time in base excess Of wine, or worse, in war, or wantonness. Let them that will, 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...
Side 237 - ... and so admire the glory of it, that he would not willingly turn his eyes from that first ravishing object to behold all the other various beauties this world could present to him. And this, and many other like blessings, we enjoy daily. And for most of them, because they be so common, most men forget to pay their praises ; but let not us, because it is a sacrifice so pleasing to Him that made that sun and us, and still protects us, and gives us flowers, and showers, and stomachs, and meat, and...
Side 338 - Dear Solitude, the soul's best friend, That man acquainted with himself dost make, And all his Maker's wonders to intend. With thee I here converse at will, And would be -glad to do so still, For it is thou alone that keep'st the soul awake.
Side 56 - Twas an employment for his idle time, which was then not idly spent : ' for Angling was, after tedious study, ' a rest to his mind, a cheerer of Ms spirits, a diverter of sadness, a calmer of unquiet thoughts, a moderator of passions, a procurer of contentedness ; and that it begat habits of peace and patience in those that professed and practised it.
Side 118 - The dew shall weep thy fall to-night ; For thou must die. Sweet rose, whose hue angry and brave Bids the rash gazer wipe his eye, Thy root is ever in its grave, And thou must die Sweet spring, full of sweet days and roses, A box where sweets compacted lie. My music shows ye have your closes. And all must die. Only a sweet and virtuous soul, Like seasoned timber, never gives ; But though the whole world turn to coal, Then chiefly lives.
Side 339 - In the artificial night, Your gloomy entrails make, Have I taken, do I take ! How oft when grief has made me fly, To hide me from society Even of my dearest friends, have I, In your recesses' friendly shade, All my sorrows open laid, And my most secret woes, intrusted to your privacy ! Lord!
Side 87 - With coral clasps and amber studs: And if these pleasures may thee move, Come live with me, and be my love.
Side 197 - When we please to walk abroad For our recreation, In the fields is our abode, Full of delectation. Where in a brook With a hook, Or a lake, Fish we take, There we sit, For a bit, Till we fish entangle.
Side 136 - That's to full compass drawn, aloft himself doth throw ; Then springing at his height, as doth a little wand That, bended end to end, and started from man's hand, Far off itself doth cast ; so does the salmon vault ; And if at first he fail, his second summersault He instantly essays ; and from his nimble ring, Still yerking, never leaves until himself he fling Above the opposing stream.

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