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Angler appear arms Beauty Beresford better blood brave breast bright Charles charming cold Cotton dead dear Death delight desire doubt drink e'er earth edition Epigram eyes face fair faith fall Fate fear fire flame give glorious glory gone grace grown half hand happy hast heart Heav'n honour hope John keep kind leave light live look Lord mind morning Muse Nature ne'er never night Note o'er once peace poem Poet poor present prove reason rest rise seen sense sighs sight sleep Song soul star stay sure sweet tears tell thee thine things thou thought true truth unto virtue Whilst wife wind worth write youth
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 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.