The Complete Angler: Or, The Contemplative Man's Recreation

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D. Bogue, 1844 - Fishing - 418 pages
 

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Page 78 - Seeing the shepherds feed their flocks, By shallow rivers to whose falls Melodious birds sing madrigals. And I will make thee beds of roses And a thousand fragrant posies, A cap of flowers, and a kirtle Embroidered all with leaves of myrtle...
Page lxii - And I wish the reader also to take notice, that in writing of it I have made myself a recreation of a recreation ; and that it might prove so to him, and not read dull and tediously, I have in several places mixed, not any 'scurrility, but some innocent, harmless mirth, of which, if thou be a severe, sour-complexioned man, then I here disallow thee to be a competent judge ; for divines say, there are offencei given, and offences not given but taken.
Page 120 - Courts, I would rejoice ; Or, with my Bryan and a book, Loiter long days near Shawford brook ; There sit by him, and eat my meat ; There see the sun both rise and set ; There bid good morning to next day ; There meditate my time away ; And angle on, and beg to have A quiet passage to a welcome grave.
Page 115 - 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.
Page 44 - 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 pike, 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, or wantonness.
Page 81 - The flowers do fade, and wanton fields To wayward winter reckoning yields: A honey tongue, a heart of gall, Is fancy's spring, but sorrow's fall.
Page 216 - Calls my fleeting soul away : Oh ! suppress that magic sound, Which destroys without a wound. Peace, Chloris ! peace, or singing die, That together you and I To heaven may go ; For all we know Of what the blessed do above, Is, that they sing, and that they love.
Page 260 - I would beget content, and increase confidence in the power, and wisdom, and providence of Almighty God, I will walk the meadows, by some gliding stream, and there contemplate the lilies that take no care, and those very many other various little living creatures that are not only created, but fed, man knows not how, by the goodness of the God of Nature, and therefore trust in Him.
Page 118 - Indeed, my good scholar, we may say of angling as Dr. Boteler said of strawberries, " Doubtless God could have made a better berry, but doubtless God never did ; " and so, if I might be judge, " God never did make a more calm, quiet, innocent recreation than angling.
Page 213 - His bed, more safe than soft, yields quiet sleeps, While by his side his faithful spouse hath place ; His little son into his bosom creeps, The lively picture of his father's face...

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