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ON ANGLING. 113
Some youthful gallant here perhaps will say,
This is no pastime for a gentleman, It Mere more fit at cards and dice to play,
To use both fence and dancing now and then, Or walk the streets in nice and strange array, Or with coy phrases court his mistris' fan ; A poor delight, with toyl and painful watch, With losse of time a silly fish to catch.
Let them that list these pastimes then pursue, And on their pleasing fancies feed their fill ; So I the fields and meadows green may view, And by the rivers clear may walke at will, Among the daisies and the violets blew, Red hyacinth, and yellow daffbdill,
Purple narcissus like the morning raves, Pale gandergras, and azure culver kayes.
I count it better pleasure to behold
The goodly compasse of the lofty skie, And in the midst thereof, like burning gold,
The flaming chariot of the world's great eye ; The watry clouds that in the ayre uprolled With sundry kinds of painted colours flie ; And fair Aurora lifting up her head, All blushing rise from old Tithonous' bed