The Complete Angler of Izaak Walton and Charles Cotton:: Extensively Embellished with Engravings on Copper and Wood, from Original Paintings and Drawings, by First Rate Artists. To which are Added, an Introductory Essay; the Linnæan Arrangement of the Various River Fish Delineated in the Work; and Illustrative Notes..
John Major, Fleet-Street, adjoining Serjeant's Inn., 1824 - 416 pages
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The Complete Angler of Izaak Walton and Charles Cotton: Estensively ...
Izaak Walton,Charles Cotton
Affichage du livre entier - 1824
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Page 80 - 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. Thy belt of straw and ivy buds, Thy coral clasps and amber studs, All these in me no means can move, To come to thee, and be thy love.
Page 262 - ... when I would beget content, and increase confidence in the power and wisdom and providence of Almighty God, I will walk the meadows, by some gliding stream, and there contemplate the lilies that take no care, and those very many other various little living creatures that are not only created, but fed (man knows not how) by the goodness of the God of nature, and therefore trust in him.
Page 10 - But the Nightingale, another of my airy creatures, breathes such sweet loud music out of her little instrumental throat, that it might make mankind to think miracles are not ceased. He that at midnight, when the very labourer sleeps securely, should hear, as I have very often, the clear airs, the sweet descants, the natural rising and falling, the doubling and redoubling of her voice, might well be lifted above earth, and say, Lord, what music hast thou provided for the Saints in Heaven, when thou...
Page 115 - 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. Sweet spring, full of sweet days and roses, A box where sweets compacted lie, My music shows ye have your closes, And all must die.
Page 78 - With coral clasps and amber studs: And if these pleasures may thee move, Come live with me, and be my love.
Page 259 - 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.
Page 259 - 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 envy'd more.
Page 118 - Indeed, my good scholar, we may say of angling as Dr. Boteler said of strawberries, " Doubtless God could have made a better berry, but doubtless God never did ; " and so, if I might be judge, " God never did make a more calm, quiet, innocent recreation than angling.
Page 119 - And raise my low-pitched thoughts above Earth, or what poor mortals love. Thus, free from lawsuits, and the noise Of princes' courts, I would rejoice; Or, with my Bryan and a book, Loiter long days near...
Page 23 - O sir, doubt not but that angling is an art. Is it not an art to deceive a trout with an artificial fly ? a trout that is more sharp-sighted than any hawk you have named, and more watchful and timorous than your high-mettled merlin is bold ! and yet I doubt not to catch a brace or two to-morrow for a friend's breakfast. Doubt not, therefore, sir, but that angling is an art...