XXXIV

WRITTEN UPON A BLANK LEAF IN

"THE COMPLETE ANGLER"

While flowing rivers yield a blameless sport,
Shall live the name of Walton: Sage benign!
Whose pen, the mysteries of the rod and line
Unfolding, did not fruitlessly exhort

To reverend watching of each still report
That Nature utters from her rural shrine.
Meek, nobly versed in simple discipline—
He found the longest summer day too short,
To his loved pastime given by sedgy Lee,
Or down the tempting maze of Shawford brook-
Fairer than life itself, in this sweet Book,

The cowslip-bank and shady willow-tree;

And the fresh meads-where flowed, from every nook
Of his full bosom, gladsome Piety!

"Poems of

1819,"

XXXV

THE ANGLER'S VINDICATION

Say not our hands are cruel,
What deeds invite the blame?
Content our golden jewel,

No blemish on our name :
Creation's lords

We need no swords

To win a withering fame.

Say not in gore and guile

We waste the livelong day:

Let those alone revile

Who feel our subtile sway,
When fancy-led

The sward we tread

And while the morn away.

Oh! not in camp and court

Our best delights we find,

But in the far resort

With water, wood, and wind,
Where nature works

And beauty lurks

In all her craft enshrined.

There captive to her will,

Yet 'mid our fetters free,

We seek by singing rill
The broad and shady tree,

And lisp our lay

To flower and fay,

Or mock the linnet's glee.

Thus glides the golden hour,
Until the chimes to toil
Recall from brook and bower,

Then, laden with our spoil,
Slowly we part

With heavy heart

And leave the haunted soil.

"Angling Songs."

XXXVI

SONG

When homeward from the stream we turn
Good cheer our sport replaces,
There's liquor trembling in the glass,
There's joy on all our faces!

We drink sweet healths, a merry round,
We talk old stories over,

And sing glad staves, like summer birds
Below their leafy cover.

Thus cheerily our evenings pass,
Till lulled below the quilting—
We sleep our toils off, and are forth
Before the lark is lilting.

All joy be with our heart's kin bold!
May care's nets ne'er entangle,

Nor woe nor poverty depress

A brother of the angle!