fc 
 
rston, 
 ton* 
 
Ji 
 

 HIS 
 
 WALLET 
 
 BOOKE 
 
 cce.Lxxxv 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 Field 6f Tuer, I Sampson Low, Marston, 
 The Leadenhall Press. Searle, & Rivington, 
 
Imprynted by 
 
 Field # Tuer, 
 
 London, 
 
 1 4,232. 
 
RACES & Prefaces 
 
 cannot be too short : 
 if is therefore merely 
 premised that two 
 centuries have elapsed 
 since "honest old I%aak " was gathered 
 
 to his fathers, & that this collection of 
 the songs and poesies contained in his 
 "Gompleat Angler" is most respectfully 
 dedicated to the wel governed Angler 9 
 as well as to the " severe and sowr 
 complexioned" 
 
 c. 
 
 1885. 
 
 A2 
 

ORD ! who hath praise 
 enough ? Nay, who 
 hath any ? 
 
 None can express Thy 
 works, but he that 
 knows them ; 
 
 And none can know Thy works, they are 
 so many, 
 
 And so complete, but only he that owes 
 them. 
 
 We all acknowledge both Thy power and 
 love 
 
 To be exact, transcendent, and divine ; 
 Who dost so strongly and so sweetly move, 
 
 Whilst all things have their end, yet 
 none but Thine. 
 
Wherefore, most sacred Spirit, I here 
 present, 
 
 For me and all my fellows, praise to 
 
 Thee ; 
 
 And just it is that I should pay the rent, 
 Because the benefit accrues to me. 
 
OD quicken'd in the sea, 
 and in the rivers, 
 
 So many fishes of so 
 many features, 
 
 That in the waters we 
 may see all creatures, 
 
 Even all that on the earth are to be found, 
 As if the world were in deep waters 
 drown'd. 
 
 For seas as well as skies have sun, 
 
 moon, stars; 
 As well as air swallows, rooks, and stares ; 
 
As well as earth vines, roses, nettles, 
 melons, 
 
 Mushrooms, pinks, gilliflowers, and many 
 millions 
 
 Of other plants, more rare, more strange 
 than these, 
 
 As very fishes living in the seas ; 
 
 As also rams, calves, horses, hares and 
 hogs, 
 
 Wolves, urchins, lions, elephants, and dogs ; 
 
 Yea, men and maids ; and, which I most 
 admire, 
 
 The mitred bishop and the cowl&d friar ; 
 Of which, examples, but a few years since, 
 
 Were shown the Norway and Polonian 
 prince. 
 
HE adulterous Sargus doth 
 not only change 
 
 Wives every day in the 
 deep streams, but, 
 strange ! 
 
 As if the honey of sea- 
 love delight 
 Could not suffice his raging appetite, 
 
 Goes courting she-goats on the grassy 
 
 shore, 
 Horning their husbands that had horns 
 
 before. 
 
UT contrary, the constant 
 Cantharus 
 
 Is ever constant to his 
 faithful spouse ; 
 
 In nuptial duties spend- 
 
 ing his chaste life ; 
 
 Never loves any but his own dear wife. 
 
UT for chaste love the 
 Mullet hath no peer ; 
 
 For, if the fisher hath 
 surpris'd her pheer, 
 [mate], 
 
 As mad with woe, to 
 shore she followeth, 
 
 Prest to consort him both in life and death. 
 
HIS day dame 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 ; 
 Already were the eaves possess'd 
 With the swift Pilgrim's daubed nest ; 
 
 16 
 
The groves already did rejoice 
 
 In Philomel's triumphing voice ; 
 
 The showers were short, the weather mild, 
 
 The morning fresh, the evening smiled. 
 
 Joan takes her neat-rubbed pail, and now 
 She trips to milk the sand-red cow ; 
 Where, for some sturdy foot-ball swain, 
 Joan strokes a syllabub or twain, 
 The fields and gardens were beset 
 With tulips, crocus, violet ; 
 And now, though late, the modest rose 
 Did more than half a blush disclose. 
 Thus all looks gay and full of cheer, 
 To welcome the new-livery'd year. 
 
ET 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 perch, 
 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 and wantonness. 
 
 18 
 
Let them that list, 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 daffodil, 
 Purple Narcissus like the morning rays, 
 Pale gander-grass, and azure culverkeys. 
 
 I count it higher pleasure to behold 
 
 The stately compass of the lofty sky, 
 And in the midst thereof, like burning gold, 
 
 The flaming chariot of the world's great 
 eye; 
 
 The watery clouds that, in the air uproll'd, 
 With sundry kinds of painted colours fly ; 
 And fair Aurora lifting up her head, 
 Still blushing, rise from old Tithonus' bed. 
 
 19 B2 
 
The hills and mountains raised from the 
 plains, 
 
 The plains extended level with the 
 ground ; 
 
 The grounds divided into sundry veins, 
 
 The veins enclos'd with rivers running 
 round ; 
 
 These rivers making way through Nature's 
 chains 
 
 With headlong course into the sea 
 profound ; 
 
 The raging sea, beneath the valleys low, 
 Where lakes, and rills, and rivulets, do flow* 
 
 The lofty woods, the forests wide and long, 
 
 Adorn'd with leaves and branches fresh 
 and green, 
 
 In whose cool bowers the birds, with many 
 a song, 
 
 Do welcome with their choir the Sum- 
 mer's Queen ; 
 
 20 
 
The meadows fair, where Flora's gifts 
 among 
 
 Are intermix'd, with verdant grass 
 between ; 
 
 The silver-scaled fish that softly swim 
 
 Within the sweet brook's crystal watery 
 stream. 
 
 All these, and many more of His creation 
 
 That made the heavens, the Angler oft 
 doth see ; 
 
 Taking therein no little delectation, 
 
 To think how strange, how wonderful 
 they be ! 
 
 Framing thereof an inward contemplation, 
 To set his heart from other fancies free ; 
 
 And whilst he looks on these with joyful 
 
 eye, 
 His mind is wrapt above the starry sky. 
 
scfcal 
 dvefl 
 
Many a one 
 
 Owes to his country his 
 religion ; 
 
 And in another would as 
 strongly grow, 
 
 Had but his nurse or 
 mother taught him so. 
 
WAS for that time lifted 
 above earth, 
 
 And possess'd joys not 
 promised in my 
 birth." 
 
The 
 
 Milkmaid's Song. 
 
 OME, live with me, and 
 be my love, 
 
 And we will all the 
 pleasures prove 
 
 That valleys, groves, or 
 hills, or field, 
 
 Or woods and steepy mountains yield. 
 25 
 
Where we will sit upon the rocks, 
 And see the shepherds feed our flocks 
 By shallow rivers, to whose falls 
 Melodious birds sing madrigals. 
 
 And I will make thee beds of roses, 
 And then a thousand fragrant posies, 
 A cap of flowers, and a kirtle 
 Embroider' d all with leaves of myrtle; 
 
 A gown made of the finest wool 
 Which from our pretty lambs we pull ; 
 Slippers lin'd choicely for the cold, 
 With buckles of the purest gold ; 
 
 A belt of straw, and ivy-buds, 
 With coral clasps and amber studs : 
 And if these pleasures may thee move, 
 Come, live with me, and be my love. 
 
 26 
 
Thy silver dishes for thy meat, 
 As precious as the Gods do eat, 
 Shall on an ivory table be 
 Prepar'd each day for thee and me. 
 
 The shepherd swains shall dance and sing, 
 For thy delight each May morning : 
 If these delights^thy mind may move, 
 Then live with me, and be my love. 
 
The 
 
 Milkmaid's Mother's 
 Answer. 
 
 |F all the world and love 
 were young, 
 
 And truth in every Shep- 
 herd's tongue, 
 These pretty pleasures 
 
 might me move 
 To live with thee, and be thy love. 
 
 29 
 
But time drives flocks from field to fold, 
 When rivers rage and rocks grow cold ; 
 Then Philomel becometh dumb, 
 And age complains of care to come. 
 
 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. 
 
 Thy gowns, thy shoes, thy beds of roses, 
 Thy cap, thy kirtle, and thy posies, 
 Soon break, soon wither, soon forgotten ; 
 In folly ripe, in reason rotten. 
 
 *i 
 
 Thy belt of straw and ivy-btads, 
 
 $%* 
 
 Thy coral clasps and amber studs, 
 
 All these in me no means can move 
 To come to thee, and be thy love. 
 
 30 
 
What should we talk of dainties then, 
 Of better meat than's fit for men ? 
 These are but vain : that's only good 
 Which God hath bless'd, and sent for food. 
 
 But could youth last, and love still breed 
 Had joys no date, nor age no need 
 Then those delights my mind might move 
 To live with thee, and be thy love. 
 
MARRIED a wife of 
 late, 
 
 The more's my unhappy 
 fate; 
 
 I married her for love, 
 
 As my fancy did me 
 move, 
 
 And not for a worldly estate. 
 
 But, oh ! the green sickness 
 Soon changed her likeness, 
 And all her beauty did fail. 
 But 'tis not so, 
 With those that go, 
 Through frost and snow, 
 As all men know, 
 And carry the milking-pail. 
 
 33 
 
Coridon's Song. 
 
 H ! the sweet contentment 
 The countryman doth 
 
 find! 
 
 Heigh trolollie lollie loe, 
 Heigh trolollie lee. 
 That quiet contemplation 
 Possesseth all my mind ; 
 Then care away, 
 And wend along with me. 
 
 35 
 
 C2 
 
For Courts are full of flattery, 
 As hath too oft been tried ; 
 
 Heigh trolollie lollie loe, &c. 
 The City full of wantonness, 
 And both are full of pride : 
 
 Then care away, &c. 
 
 But Oh ! the honest countryman 
 Speaks truly from his heart ; 
 
 Heigh trolollie lollie loe, 
 His pride is in his tillage, 
 His horses and his cart : 
 
 Then care away, &c. 
 
 Our clothing is good sheep-skins, 
 Grey russet for our wives ; 
 
 Heigh trolollie lollie loe, &c. 
 'Tis warmth, and not gay clothing, 
 That doth prolong our lives : 
 Then care away, &c. 
 
 36 
 
The Ploughman, though he labour 
 
 hard, 
 Yet on the holiday, 
 
 Heigh trolollie lollie loe, &c. 
 No Emperor so merrily 
 Does pass his time away : 
 Then care away, &c. 
 
 To recompense our tillage, 
 The Heavens afford us showers ; 
 
 Heigh trolollie lollie loe, &c. 
 And for our sweet refreshments 
 The earth affords us bowers: 
 
 Then care away, &c. 
 
 The cuckoo and the nightingale 
 Full merrily do sing, 
 
 Heigh trolollie lollie loe, &c. 
 And with their pleasant roundelayes 
 Bid welcome to the Spring : 
 
 Then care away, &c. 
 
 37 
 
This is not half the happiness 
 The Countryman enjoys ; 
 
 Heigh trolollie lollie loe, &c 
 
 Though others think they have as 
 
 much, 
 
 Yet he that says so lies ; 
 Then come away, turn 
 Countryman with me. 
 
 Jo. CHALKHILL, 
 
The 
 
 Angler's Song. 
 
 inward love breeds out- 
 ward talk, 
 
 The hound some praise, 
 and some the hawk ; 
 
 Some, better pleas'd 
 with private sport, 
 
 Use tennis ; some a mistress court ; 
 But these delights I neither wish, 
 Nor envy, while I freely fish. 
 
Who hunts, doth oft in danger ride ; 
 
 Who hawks, lures oft both far and wide ; 
 
 Who uses games shall often prove 
 
 A loser ; but who falls in love 
 Is fetter'd in fond Cupid's snare : 
 My Angle breeds me no such care. 
 
 - 
 
 Of recreation there is none 
 So free as Fishing is alone ; 
 All other pastimes do no less 
 Than mind and body both possess ; 
 
 My hand alone my work can do, 
 
 So I can fish and study too. 
 
 I care not, I, to fish in seas 
 Fresh rivers best my mind do please, 
 Whose sweet calm course I contemplate, 
 And seek in life to imitate : 
 
 In civil bounds I fain would keep, 
 And for my past offences weep. 
 
 42 
 
And when the timorous Trout I wait 
 To take, and he devours my bait, 
 How poor a thing sometimes I find 
 Will captivate a greedy mind ; 
 
 And when none bite, I praise the wise, 
 Whom vain allurements ne'er surprise. 
 \ 
 
 But yet, though while I fish I fast, 
 I make good fortune my repast ; 
 And thereunto my friend invite, 
 In whom I more than that delight : 
 Who is more welcome to my dish, 
 Than to my Angle was my fish. 
 
 As well content no prize to take, 
 As use of taken prize to make : 
 For so our Lord was pleased when 
 He fishers made fishers of men : 
 Where (which is in no other game) 
 A man may fish and praise his name. 
 
 43 
 
The first men that our Saviour dear 
 Did choose to wait upon Him here, 
 Blest fishers were, and fish the last 
 Food was that He on earth did taste : 
 I therefore strive to follow those, 
 Whom He to follow Him hath chose. 
 
OD, not contented to each 
 kind to give, 
 
 And to infuse the virtue 
 generative, 
 
 By His wise power made 
 many creatures breed 
 
 Of lifeless bodies, without Venus' deed. 
 
So the cold humour breeds the Salamander, 
 
 Who, in effect, like to her birth's com- 
 mander, 
 
 With child with hundred winters, with her 
 touch 
 
 Quencheth the fire, though glowing ne'er 
 so much. 
 
 So in the fire, in burning furnace, springs 
 The fly Perausta, with the flaming wings ; 
 Without the the fire it dies ; in it it joys ; 
 Living in that which all things else destroys. 
 
 
So slow Bootes underneath him sees, 
 In th' icy islands, goslings hatch'd of trees, 
 Whose fruitful leaves, falling into the water, 
 Are turn'd, 'tis known, to living fowls soon 
 after. 
 
 So rotten planks of broken ships do change 
 To barnacles. O transformation strange ! 
 'Twas first a green tree, then a broken hull, 
 Lately a mushroom, now a flying gull. 
 
When the wind is South, 
 
 It blows your bait into 
 a fish's mouth. 
 
WEET Day, so cool, so 
 calm, so bright, 
 
 The bridal of the earth 
 and sky, 
 
 Sweet dews 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 you have your closes 
 
 And all must die ! 
 
 D2 
 

 Only a sweet and virtuous soul, 
 
 Like season'd timber, never gives ; 
 
 But when the whole world turns to coal, 
 
 Then chiefly lives]! 
 
HAT? Prayer by the 
 Book? and Common? 
 Yes! why not? 
 
 The Spirit of Grace 
 And Supplication, 
 Is not left free alone 
 
 For time and place, 
 
 But manner too : to read> or speak, by 
 rote, 
 
 Is all alike to him that prays 
 
 In's heart, what with his mouth he says. 
 
 53 
 
They that in private, by themselves alone 
 
 Do pray, may take 
 What liberty they please, 
 In choosing of the ways 
 
 Wherein to make 
 
 Their soul's most intimate affections known 
 To Him that sees in secret, when 
 They're most conceal'd from other men. 
 
 But he that unto others leads the way 
 
 In public prayer, 
 Should do it so 
 As all that hear may know 
 They need not fear 
 
 To tune their hearts unto his tongue, and 
 say, 
 
 Amen ! not doubt they were betray'd 
 
 To blaspheme, when they meant to have 
 pray'd. 
 
 54 
 
Devotion will add life unto the letter ; 
 
 And why should not 
 That which authority 
 Prescribes, esteemed be 
 
 Advantage got ? 
 If the prayer be good, the commoner the 
 
 better ; 
 
 Prayer in the Church's words, as well 
 As sense, of all prayers bears the bell. 
 
 CH. HARVIE. 
 
The 
 
 Angler's Wish. 
 
 IN these flowery meads 
 would be : 
 
 These crystal streams 
 should solace me ; 
 
 To whose harmonious 
 bubbling noise 
 
 I with my Angle would rejoice : 
 Sit here, and see the turtle-dove, 
 Court his chaste mate to acts of love : 
 
 57 
 
Or, on that bank, feel the west wind 
 
 Breathe health and plenty : please my 
 
 mind, 
 
 To see sweet dewdrops kiss these flowers, 
 And then, wash'd off by April showers ; 
 
 Here, hea'r my Kenna sing a song ; 
 
 There, see a blackbird feed her young, 
 
 Or a leverock build her nest ; 
 Here, give my weary spirits rest, 
 And raise my low-pitch'd thoughts above 
 Earth, or what poor mortals love : 
 
 Thus, free from lawsuits, and the noise 
 Of prince's 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. 
 
RIGHT shines the sun, 
 play, Beggars, play, 
 
 Here's scraps enough 
 to serve to-day. 
 
 What noise of viols is 
 
 so sweet, 
 
 As when our merry clappers ring ? 
 What mirth doth want when Beggars meet ? 
 
 A Beggar's life is for a king : 
 Eat, drink, and play sleep when we list, 
 Go where we will so stocks be mist. 
 
 Bright shines the sun ; play, Beggars, 
 play, 
 
 Here's scraps enough to serve to-day. 
 
 61 
 
The world is ours, and ours alone, 
 For we alone have world at will : 
 
 We purchase not all is our own, 
 
 Both fields and streets we Beggars fill : 
 
 Nor care to get, nor fear to keep, 
 
 Did ever break a Beggar's sleep. 
 
 Bright shines the sun ; play, Beggars, 
 play, 
 
 Here's scraps enough to serve to-day. 
 
 A hundred herds of black and white 
 Upon our gowns securely feed ; 
 
 And yet if any dare us bite, 
 
 He dies therefor, as sure as creed. 
 
 Thus Beggars lord it as they please, 
 
 And only Beggars live at ease. 
 
 Bright shines the sun ; play, Beggars, 
 play, 
 
 Here's scraps enough to serve to-day. 
 

Piscator fuge ne nocens, etc. 
 
 NGLER! wouldst thou 
 be guiltless ? then 
 forbear, 
 
 For these are sacred 
 fishes that swim here; 
 
 Who know their sover- 
 eign, and will lick his hand ; 
 
 Than which none's greater in the world's 
 command : 
 
 Nay, more, they've names, and when they 
 called are, 
 
 Do to their several owners' call repair. 
 
UCIAN, well skilled in 
 scoffing, this hath 
 writ, 
 
 Friend, that's your folly, 
 which you think your 
 wit, 
 
 This, you vent oft, void both of wit and 
 fear, 
 
 Meaning another, when yourself you jeer. 
 
 E2 
 
ND when the Salmon seeks 
 a fresher stream to 
 find, 
 
 Which hither from the 
 Sea comes yearly by 
 his kind ; 
 
 As he tow'rds season 
 grows ; and stems the wat'ry tract 
 
 Where Tivy falling down, makes a high 
 cataract, 
 
 69 
 
Forc'd by the rising rocks that there her 
 course oppose, 
 
 As though within her bounds they meant 
 her to inclose ; 
 
 Here, when the labouring fish does at the 
 foot arrive, 
 
 And finds that by his strength he does but 
 vainly strive ; 
 
 His tail takes in his mouth, and, bending 
 like a bow 
 
 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 summer- 
 sault 
 
 70 
 
He instantly essays ; and from his nimble 
 
 Still yerking, never leaves until himself he 
 fling 
 
 Above the opposing stream. 
 
OPS and Turkeys, Carps 
 and Beer, 
 
 Came into England all 
 in a year." 
 
O ME, 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 whisp'ring run, 
 Warm'd by thy eyes more than the sun ; 
 And there th' enamell'd fish will stay, 
 Begging themselves they may betray. 
 
 74 
 
When thou wilt swim in that live bath, 
 Each fish, which every channel hath, 
 Most amorously to thee will swim, 
 Gladder to catch thee than thou him. 
 
 If thou, to be so seen, be'st loth, 
 By sun or moon, thou dark'nest both ; 
 And if mine eyes have leave to see, 
 I need not their light, having thee. 
 
 Let others freeze with angling-reeds, 
 And cut their legs with shells and weeds ; 
 Or treach'rously poor fish beset 
 With strangling snares, or windowy net : 
 
 Let coarse bold hands, from slimy nest, 
 The bedded fish in banks outwrest ; 
 Let curious traitors sleave silk flies, 
 To 'witch poor wandering fishes' eyes : 
 
 75 
 
For thee, thou need'st no such deceit, 
 For thou thyself art thine own bait : 
 That fish that is not catch'd thereby, 
 Is wiser far, alas ! than I. 
 
H ! the gallant fisher's life, 
 It is the best of any ; 
 'Tis full of pleasure, 
 void of strife, 
 
 And 'tis beloved by 
 many; 
 
 Other joys 
 Are but toys ; 
 Only this 
 Lawful is ; 
 For our skill 
 Breeds no ill, 
 But content and pleasure. 
 
In a morning up we rise, 
 Ere Aurora's peeping ; 
 Drink a cup to wash our eyes, 
 Leave the sluggard sleeping 
 Then we go 
 To and fro, 
 With our knacks 
 At our backs, 
 To such streams 
 As the Thames, 
 If we have the leisure. 
 
 80 
 
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. 
 
 81 
 
We have gentles in a horn, 
 
 We have paste and worms too ; 
 
 We can watch both night and 
 morn, 
 
 Suffer rain and storms too. 
 
 None do here 
 
 Use to swear ; 
 
 Oaths do fray 
 
 Fish away : 
 
 We sit still 
 
 And watch our quill ; 
 Fishers must not wrangle. 
 
 82 
 
If the sun's excessive heat 
 
 Make our bodies swelter, 
 To an osier hedge we get 
 For a friendly shelter ; 
 Where in a dike, 
 Perch or pike, 
 Roach or dace, 
 We do chase, 
 Bleak or gudgeon, 
 Without grudging ; 
 We are still contented. 
 
 83 F2 
 
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. 
 
 Jo. CHALKHILL, 
 
 
AIL ! blest estate of lowli- 
 ness ! 
 
 Happy enjoyments of 
 such minds, 
 
 As, rich in self-con- 
 tentedness, 
 
 Can, like the reeds in 
 
 roughest winds, 
 
 By yielding make that blow but small, 
 At which proud oaks and cedars fall. 
 
O empty hopes, no courtly 
 fears him fright ; 
 
 No begging wants his 
 middle fortune bite \ 
 
 But sweet content exiles 
 both misery and spite. 
 
 His certain life, that never can deceive him, 
 Is full of thousand sweets and rich content; 
 
 The smooth-leav'd beeches in the field 
 receive him, 
 
 With coolest shade, till noontide's heat 
 be spent : 
 
 His life is neither toss'd in boisterous seas, 
 
 Or the vexatious world, or lost in slothful 
 ease : 
 
 Pleas'd and full bless'd he lives, when he 
 his God can please. 
 
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 ; 
 
 His humble house or poor state ne'er 
 torment him 
 
 Less he could like, if less his God had 
 lent him ; 
 
 And when he dies, green turfs do for a tomb 
 content him. 
 
|AN'S life is but vain, 
 For 'tis subject to pain, 
 
 And sorrow, and short 
 as a bubble ; 
 
 'Tis a hodgepodge of 
 business, 
 
 And money, and care ; 
 
 And care, and money, and trouble. 
 
 But we'll take no care 
 
 When the weather proves fair : 
 
 Nor will we vex 
 
 Now though it rain ; 
 We'll banish all sorrow, 
 And sing till to-morrow, 
 
 And angle and angle again. 
 

 USIC ! miraculous rhe- 
 toric ! that speakest 
 sense 
 
 Without a tongue, excel- 
 ling eloquence ; 
 
 With what ease might 
 thy errors be excus'cU 
 Wert thou as truly lov'd as thou'rt abus'd [ 
 
 But though dull souls neglect, and some 
 reprove thee, 
 
 I cannot hate thee, 'cause the angels love 
 thee. 
 
HILST I listen to thy 
 voice, 
 
 Chloris, I feel my heart 
 decay : 
 
 That powerful noise 
 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. 
 
Y rod and my line, my 
 float and my lead, 
 
 My hook and my plum- 
 met, my whetstone 
 and knife, 
 
 My basket, my baits 
 both living and dead, 
 
 My net and my meat, for that is the 
 
 chief: 
 
 Then I must have thread, and hairs green 
 and small, 
 
 With mine angling-purse and so you 
 have all. 
 
That Thames 
 compare. 
 
 Tot camp os, etc. 
 
 E saw so many woods and 
 princely bowers, 
 
 Sweet fields, brave 
 palaces, and stately 
 towers ; 
 
 So many gardens dress'd 
 with curious care, 
 
 with royal Tiber may 
 
UR floods' queen, Thames, 
 for ships and swans is 
 crown'd ; 
 
 And stately Severn for 
 her shore is prais'd ; 
 
 The crystal Trent, for 
 fords and fish renown' d ; 
 
 And Avon's fame to Albion's cliffs is 
 rais'd. 
 
 Carlegion Chester vaunts her holy Dee ; 
 York many wonders of her Ouse can tell ; 
 
 The Peak her Dove, whose banks so 
 fertile be, 
 
 And Kent will say her Medway doth 
 excel. 
 
 96 
 
Cotswold commends her I sis to the Thame ; 
 
 Our northern borders boast of Tweed's 
 fair flood ; 
 
 Our western parts extol their Willy's fame ; 
 
 And the old Lea brags of the Danish 
 blood. 
 
fears, heart- 
 tearing cares, 
 
 Anxious sighs, untimely 
 tears, 
 
 Fly, fly to Courts, 
 Fly to fond world- 
 lings' sports, 
 
 Where strain'd Sardonic smiles are glosing 
 still, 
 
 And grief is forc'd to laugh against her will ; 
 Where mirth's but mummery, 
 And sorrows only real be. 
 
 99 
 
 G2 
 
Fly, from our country pastimes, fly, 
 
 Sad troops of human misery ; 
 Come, serene looks, 
 Clear as the crystal brooks, 
 
 Or the pure azur'd heaven that smiles 
 to see 
 
 The rich attendance on our poverty ; 
 Peace and a secure mind, 
 Which all men seek, we only find. 
 
 Abused mortals ! did you know 
 
 Where joy, heart's ease, and comforts 
 grow, 
 
 You'd scorn proud towers, 
 And seek them in these bowers ; 
 
 Where winds, sometimes, our woods perhaps 
 may shake, 
 
 But blustering care could never tempest 
 make ; 
 
 Nor murmurs e'er come nigh us, 
 Saving of fountains that glide by us. 
 
 101 
 
Here's no fantastic mask nor dance, 
 But of our kids that frisk and prance ; 
 
 Nor wars are seen, 
 
 Unless upon the green 
 
 Two harmless lambs are butting one the 
 other 
 
 Which done, both bleating run, each to his 
 mother ; 
 
 And wounds are never found, 
 
 Save what the ploughshare gives 
 the ground. 
 
 Here are no entrapping baits, 
 To hasten too, too hasty fates, 
 
 Unless it be 
 
 The fond credulity 
 
 Of silly fish, which (worldling-like) still 
 look 
 
 Upon the bait, but never on the hook ; 
 Nor envy, 'less among 
 
 The birds, for prize of their sweet 
 song. 
 
 103 
 
Go, let the diving negro seek 
 For gems, hid in some forlorn creek : 
 We all pearls scorn, 
 Save what the dewy morn 
 Congeals upon each little spire of grass, 
 
 Which careless shepherds beat down as 
 they pass ; 
 
 And gold ne'er here appears, 
 Save what the yellow Ceres bears. 
 
 Blest silent groves ! O may you be 
 
 For ever mirth's best nursery ! 
 May pure contents 
 For ever pitch their tents 
 
 Upon these downs, these meads, these 
 
 rocks, these mountains, 
 And peace still slumber by these purling 
 fountains, 
 
 Which we may every year 
 
 Meet, when we come a-fishing here ! 
 
 104 
 
AREWELL ye gilded 
 follies, pleasing 
 troubles ! 
 
 Farewell ye honoured 
 rags, ye glorious 
 bubbles ! 
 
 Fame's but a hollow 
 echo Gold, pure clay 
 
 Honour, the darling but of one short day 
 
 Beauty, th' eye's idol, but a damask' d 
 skin 
 
 State, but a golden prison to live in 
 
 And torture free-born minds Embroider'd 
 trains 
 
 Merely but pageants for proud swelling 
 veins 
 
 106 
 
And blood allied to greatness is alone 
 Inherited, not purchased, nor our own. 
 
 Fame, honour, beauty, state, train, blood, 
 and birth, 
 
 Are but the fading blossoms of the 
 earth. 
 
I would be great, but that the sun doth 
 
 still 
 
 Level his rays against the rising hill 
 I would be high, but see the proudest oak 
 
 Most subject to the rending thunder- 
 stroke 
 
 I would be rich, but see men (too unkind) 
 Dig in the bowels of the richest mind 
 I would be wise, but that I often see 
 
 The fox suspected, whilst the ass goes 
 free 
 
I would be fair, but see the fair and proud, 
 Like the bright sun, oft setting in a cloud 
 
 I would be poor, but know the humble 
 grass 
 
 Still trampled on by each unworthy ass 
 Rich hated Wise suspected Scorn'd if 
 poor 
 
 Great fear'd Fair tempted High still 
 envied more : 
 
 I have wish'd all ; but now I wish for 
 neither, 
 
 Great, High, Rich, Wise, nor Fair Poor 
 I'll be rather. 
 
Would the World now adopt me for her 
 heir 
 
 Would Beauty's queen entitle me the fair 
 
 Fame speak me Fortune's minion could 
 I vie 
 
 Angels with India with a speaking eye 
 
 Command bare heads, bow'd knees, strike 
 justice dumb, 
 
 As well as blind and lame; or give a 
 tongue. 
 
To stones by epitaphs be call'd " great 
 master," 
 
 In the loose rhymes of every poetaster 
 Could I be more than any man that lives, 
 Great, fair, rich, wise, all in superlatives 
 Yet I more freely would these gifts resign, 
 
 Than ever Fortune would have made them 
 mine; 
 
 And hold one minute of this holy leisure, 
 Beyond the riches of this empty pleasure ! 
 
Welcome, pure thoughts ! Welcome, ye 
 silent groves ! 
 
 These guests, these courts, my soul most 
 dearly loves ! 
 
 Now the wing'd people of the sky shall 
 sing 
 
 My cheerful anthems to the gladsome 
 spring : 
 
 A prayer-book now, shall be my looking- 
 glass, 
 In which I will adore sweet Virtue's face. 
 
 112 
 
Here dwell no hateful looks, no palace 
 cares, 
 
 No broken vows dwell here, nor pale-faced 
 fears ; 
 
 Then here I'll sit, and sigh my hot love's 
 
 folly, 
 
 And learn t'affect an holy melancholy : 
 And if Contentment be a stranger, then 
 
 I'll ne'er look for it, but in heaven, 
 again. 
 
Newly set forth and Adorn'd with 
 
 curiously engraven by 
 JOSEPH CRAWHALL, 
 
 Author of 
 "The Compleatest Angling Book that ever 
 
 was writ " ; 
 
 "Border Notes and Mixty-Maxty " ; 
 "Chaplets from Coquetside"; 
 
 " Chap-book Chaplets " ; 
 "Olde ffrendes with newe Facet." 
 
 H2 
 
 ! 
 
Imprynted at 
 Ye Leadenhalle Preffe, 
 50, Leadenhall Street, 
 
 London, E.G. 
 
ffieid&Tuer 
 
 LONDON 
 
Now Ready.] [In One Thick 4 to Vol. 257. 
 
 As the many hundreds of illuftrations are all hand- 
 coloured, the iffue is neceffarily limited. 
 
 Olde ffrendes 
 
 wyth newe Faces. 
 
 Adorn'd with futable SCVLPTVRES. 
 TABLE of the matter herein contain'd : I. The 
 louing Ballad of Lord Bateman. II. A true relation 
 of the Apparition of Mrs. Veal. III. The Long" 
 Pack: A Northumbrian Tale. IV. The Sword 
 Dancers. V. John Cunningham, the Paftoral Poet. 
 VI.- Ducks &- Green Peas, or the Newcaflle Rider: 
 a Tale in Rhyme. VII. Ducks and Green Peas : a 
 Farce. VIII. Andrew Robinfon Stoney Bowes, 
 Efquire. IX. The Gloamin' Buchte. 
 
 LONDON: Field &> Tuer; Simpkin, Marfhall <5r> Co.; 
 
 Hamilton, Adams &* Co. 
 NEW YORK: Scribner & Welford. 
 
 Now Ready.] [In One Thick 4 to Vol. 25;. 
 
 As the many hundreds of illuflrations are all hand- 
 coloured, the iffue is neceffarily limited. 
 
 CRAWHALL'S 
 
 Chap-book Chaplets. 
 
 Adorn'd with futable SCVLPTVRES. 
 TABLE of the matter herein contain'd : I. The 
 Barkfliire Lady's Garland. II. The Babes in the 
 Wood. III. I Know what I know. IV. Jemmy 
 6- Nancy of Yarmouth. V. The Taming- of a Shrew. 
 VI. Blew-cap for me. VII. John & Joan. VIII. 
 George Barnewel. 
 
 LONDON: Field 6- Tuer; Simpkin, Marfhall ^ Co.; 
 
 Hamilton, Adams 6* Co. 
 NEW YORK: Scribner & Welford. 
 
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