Poems of Charles Cotton, 1630-1687Cobden-Sanderson, 1923 - 420 pages |
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A. H. Bullen Alexander Brome Anacreon arms Aston Cockayne Beauty Beresford Hall blest blood brave breast Burlesque Cælia call'd Charles Cotton charming chaste Chloris cold Compleat Angler Cotton's poems dead dear Death delight Derbyshire doth drink e'er earth edition end of Act Epigram ev'ry eyes face fair faith fame Fate fear fire flame glorious glory grace grown happy heart Heav'n honour Izaak Walton John Bradshaw John Linnell light live Lord lov'd Love's lovers mind morning Muse ne'er never night Note o'er Olive Cotton peace Pindaric Poet poor pow'r praise rest shade sighs Sir Aston Sir Harris sleep Song Sonnet sorrow soul Staffordshire sure sweet tears tell thee thine Thomas Flatman thou art thou hast true truth Twas unto verse virtue weep Whilst wife William Davenant William Oldys youth
Popular passages
Page 7 - Complete Angler; or, The Contemplative Man's Recreation : being a Discourse of Rivers, Fishponds. Fish and Fishing, written by IZAAK WALTON ; and Instructions how to Angle for a Trout or Grayling in a clear Stream, by CHARLES COTTON.
Page 46 - How calm and quiet a delight Is it, alone, To read, and meditate, and write, By none offended, and offending none ! To walk, ride, sit, or sleep at one's own ease, And, pleasing a man's self, none other to displease.
Page 72 - Then let us welcome the New Guest With lusty brimmers of the best; Mirth always should Good Fortune meet, And render e'en Disaster sweet: And though the Princess turn her back, Let us but line ourselves with sack, We better shall by far hold out, Till the next Year she face about.
Page 81 - We would not now wish with us here; In this estate, I say, it is Some comfort to us to suppose, That in a better clime than this You our dear friend have more repose; And some delight to me the while, Though nature now does weep in rain, To think that I have seen her smile, And haply may I do again.
Page 81 - We'll prove it just with treach'rous bait To make the preying trout our prey; And think ourselves in such an hour Happier than those, though not so high, Who, like Leviathans, devour Of meaner men the smaller fry. This (my best friend) at my poor home Shall be our pastime and our theme, But then should you not deign to come You make all this a flatt'ring dream.
Page 53 - The day's grown old, the fainting sun Has but a little way to run, And yet his steeds, with all his skill, Scarce lug the chariot down the hill.
Page 47 - Here, in this despised recess, Would I, maugre winter's cold, And the summer's worst excess, Try to live out to sixty full years old ; And, all the while, Without an envious eye On any thriving under Fortune's smile...
Page 55 - Each one has had his supping mess, The cheese is put into the press, The pans and bowls clean scalded all, Rear'd up against the milk-house wall And now on benches all are sat In the cool air to sit and chat, Till Phoebus, dipping in the west, Shall lead the world the way to rest.
Page 72 - To the exact discoverer. Yet more and more he smiles upon The happy revolution. Why should we then suspect or fear The influences of a year, So smiles upon us the first morn, And speaks us good so soon as born?
Page 27 - Cultivate simplicity, Coleridge, or rather, I should say, banish elaborateness; for simplicity springs spontaneous from the heart, and carries into daylight its own modest buds and genuine, sweet, and clear flowers of expression. I allow no hot-beds in the gardens of Parnassus.