The Boy's Walton: A Discourse on Fishing

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M.Ward, 1878 - 174 pages

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Page 156 - Sweet Day, so cool, so calm, so bright, The bridal of the earth and sky, 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.
Page 73 - To hear the lark begin his flight And singing startle the dull night From his watch-tower in the skies, Till the dappled dawn doth rise...
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 83 - There, whilst behind some bush we wait The scaly people to betray, — We'll prove it just, with treacherous 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.
Page 47 - If we have the leisure. 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.
Page 34 - Bohemia, they saw a frog, when the pike lay very sleepily and quiet by the shore side, leap upon his head ; and the frog having expressed malice or anger by his swollen cheeks and staring eyes, did stretch out his legs and embraced the pike's head, and presently reached them to his eyes, tearing with them and his teeth, those tender parts : the pike moved with...
Page 18 - ANGLER'S SONG. As inward love breeds outward talk, The hound some praise, and some the hawk ; Some, better pleased 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.
Page 47 - Pearch or Pike, Roach or Dace, We do chase, Bleak or Gudgeon Without grudging ; We are still contented. Or we sometimes pass an hour Under a green willow ; That defends us from a shower t Making earth our pillow ; Where we may Think and pray. Before death Stops our breath : Other joys Are but toys, And to be lamented.
Page 46 - 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.
Page 111 - 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.

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