The Complete Angler
I >>
Izaak Walton >> The Complete Angler
Pages:
1 |
2 |
3 |
4 |
5 |
6 |
7 |
8 |
9 |
10 |
11 |
12 |
13 | 14
My honest Scholar, all this is told to incline you to thankfulness; and to
incline you the more, let me tell you, and though the prophet David was
guilty of murder and adultery, and many other of the most deadly sins,
yet he was said to be a man after God's own heart, because he abounded
more with thankfulness that any other that is mentioned in holy
scripture, as may appear in his book oŁ Psalms; where there is such a
commixture, of his confessing of his sins and unworthiness, and such
thankfulness for God's pardon and mercies, as did make him to be
accounted, even by God himself, to be a man after his own heart: and
let us, in that, labour to be as like him as we can; let not the blessings
we receive daily from God make us not to value, or not praise Him,
because they be common; let us not forget to praise Him for the
innocent mirth and pleasure we have met with since we met together.
What would a blind man give to see the pleasant rivers, and meadows,
and flowers, and fountains, that we have met with since we met
together ? I have been told, that if a man that was born blind could
obtain to have his sight for but only one hour during his whole life, and
should, at the first opening of his eyes, fix his sight upon the sun when
it was in its full glory, either at the rising or setting of it, he would be so
transported and amazed, and so admire the glory of it, that he would not
willingly turn his eyes from that first ravishing object, to behold all the
other various beauties this world could present to him. And this, and
many other like blessings, we enjoy daily. And for the most of them,
because they be so common, most men forget to pay their praises: but
let not us; because it is a sacrifice so pleasing to Him that made that sun
and us, and still protects us, and gives us flowers, and showers, and
stomachs, and meat, and content, and leisure to go a-fishing.
Well, Scholar, I have almost tired myself, and, I fear, more than almost
tired you. But I now see Tottenham High-Cross; and our short walk
thither shall put a period to my too long discourse; in which my
meaning was, and is, to plant that in your mind with which I labour to
possess my own soul; that is, a meek and thankful heart. And to that
end I have shewed you, that riches without them, do not make any man
happy. But let me tell you, that riches with them remove many fears
and cares. And therefore my advice is, that you endeavour to be
honestly rich, or contentedly poor: but be sure that your riches be justly
got, or you spoil all. For it is well said by Caussin, " He that loses his
conscience has nothing left that is worth keeping ". Therefore be sure
you look to that. And, in the next place, look to your health: and if you
have it, praise God, and value it next to a good conscience; for health is
the second blessing that we mortals are capable of; a blessing that
money cannot buy; and therefore value it, and be thankful for it. As for
money, which may be said to be the third blessing, neglect it not: but
note, that there is no necessity of being rich; for I told you, there be as
many miseries beyond riches as on this side them: and if you have a
competence, enjoy it with a meek, cheerful, thankful heart. I will tell
you, Scholar, I have heard a grave Divine say, that God has two
dwellings; one in heaven, and the other in a meek and thankful heart;
which Almighty God grant to me, and to my honest Scholar. And so
you are welcome to Tottenham High-Cross.
Venator. Well, Master, I thank you for all your good directions; but for
none more than this last, of thankfulness, which I hope I shall never
forget. And pray let's now rest ourselves in this sweet shady arbour,
which nature herself has woven with her own fine fingers; 'tis such a
contexture of woodbines, sweetbriar, jasmine, and myrtle; and so
interwoven, as will secure us both from the sun's violent heat, and from
the approaching shower. And being set down, I will requite a part of
your courtesies with a bottle of sack, milk, oranges, and sugar, which,
all put together, make a drink like nectar; indeed, too good for any but
us Anglers, And so, Master, here is a full glass to you of that liquor: and
when you have pledged me, I will repeat the Verses which I promised
you: it is a Copy printed among some of Sir Henry Wotton's, and
doubtless made either by him, or by a lover of angling. Come, Master,
now drink a glass to me, and then I will pledge you, and fall to my
repetition; it is a description of such country recreations as I have
enjoyed since I had the happiness to fall into your company.
Quivering fears, heart-tearing cares,
Anxious sighs, untimely tears,
Fly, fly to courts,
Fly to fond worldlings' sports,
Where strain'd sardonic smiles are glosing still,
And Grief is forc'd to laugh against her will:
Where mirth's but mummery,
And sorrows only real be.
Fly from our country pastimes, fly,
Sad troops of human misery.
Come, serene looks,
Clear as the crystal brooks,
Or the pure azur'd heaven that smiles to see
The rich attendance of our poverty:
Peace and a secure mind,
Which all men seek, we only find.
Abused mortals I did you know
Where joy, heart's-ease, and comforts grow,
You'd scorn proud towers,
And seek them in these bowers;
Where winds, sometimes, our woods perhaps may shake,
But blust'ring care could never tempest make,
Nor murmurs e'er come nigh us,
Saving of fountains that glide by us.
Here's no fantastick mask, nor dance,
But of our kids that frisk and prance;
Nor wars are seen
Unless upon the green
Two harmless lambs are butting one the other,
Which done, both bleating run, each to his mother
And wounds are never found,
Save what the plough-share gives the ground.
Here are no false entrapping baits,
To hasten too, too hasty Fates,
Unless it be
The fond credulity
Of silly fish, which worldling like, still look
Upon the bait, but never on the hook;
Nor envy, unless among
The birds, for prize of their sweet song.
Go, let the diving negro seek
For gems, hid in some forlorn creek:
We all pearls scorn,
Save what the dewy morn
Congeals upon each little spire of grass,
Which careless shepherds beat down as they pass:
And gold ne'er here appears,
Save what the yellow Ceres bears,
Blest silent groves, oh may ye be,
For ever, mirth's best nursery !
May pure contents
For ever pitch their tents
Upon these downs, these meads, these rocks, these mountains.
And peace still slumber by these purling fountains:
Which we may, every year,
Meet when we come a-fishing here.
Piscator. Trust me, Scholar, I thank you heartily for these Verses: they
be choicely good, and doubtless made by a lover of angling. Come,
now, drink a glass to me, and I will requite you with another very good
copy: it is a farewell to the vanities of the world, and some say written
by Sir Harry Wotton, who I told you was an excellent angler. But let
them be writ by whom they will, he that writ them had a brave soul, and
must needs be possess with happy thoughts at the time of their
composure.
Farewell, ye gilded follies, pleasing troubles;
Farewell, ye honour'd rags, ye glorious bubbles;
Fame's but a hollow echo, Gold, pure clay;
Honour the darling but of one short day;
Beauty, th' eye's idol, but a damask'd skin;
State, but a golden prison, to live in
And torture free-born minds; embroider'd Trains,
Merely but pageants for proud swelling veins;
And Blood allied to greatness is alone
Inherited, not purchas'd, nor our own.
Fame, Honour, Beauty, State, Train, Blood and Birth,
Are but the fading blossoms of the earth.
I would be great, but that the sun doth still
Level his rays against the rising hill:
I would be high, but see the proudest oak
Most subject to the rending thunder-stroke:
I would be rich, but see men, too unkind
Dig in the bowels of the richest mind:
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.
I have wish'd all, but now I wish for neither.
Great, high, rich, wise, nor fair: poor I'll be rather.
Would the World now adopt me for her heir;
Would beauty's Queen entitle me the fair;
Fame speak me fortune's minion, could I " vie
Angels " with India with a speaking eye
Command bare heads, bow'd knees, strike justice dumb,
As well as blind and lame, or give a tongue
To stones by epitaphs, be call'd " great master "
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.
Welcome, pure thoughts; welcome, ye silent groves;
These guests, these courts, my soul most dearly loves.
Now the wing'd people of the sky shall sing
My cheerful anthems to the gladsome spring:
A pray'r-book, now, shall be my looking-glass,
In which I will adore sweet virtue's face.
Here dwell no hateful looks, no palace cares,
No broken vows dwell here, nor pale-fac'd fears;
Then here I'll sit, and sigh my hot love's folly,
And learn t' affect an holy melancholy:
And if contentment be a stranger then,
I'll ne'er look for it, but in heaven, again.
Venator. Well, Master, these verses be worthy to keep a room in every
man's memory. I thank you for them; and I thank you for your many
instructions, which, God willing, I will not forget. And as St. Austin, in
his Confessions, commemorates the kindness of his friend Verecundus,
for lending him and his companion a country house, because there they
rested and enjoyed themselves, free from the troubles of the world, so,
having had the like advantage, both by your conversation and the art
you have taught me, I ought ever to do the like; for, indeed, your
company and discourse have been so useful and pleasant, that, I may
truly say, I have only lived since I enjoyed them and turned angler, and
not before. Nevertheless, here I must part with you; here in this now sad
place, where I was so happy as first to meet you: but I shall long for the
ninth of May; for then I hope again to enjoy your beloved company, at
the appointed time and place. And now I wish for some somniferous
potion, that might force me to sleep away the intermitted time, which
will pass away with me as tediously as it does with men in sorrow;
nevertheless I will make it as short as I can, by my hopes and wishes:
and, my good Master, I will not forget the doctrine which you told me
Socrates taught his scholars, that they should not think to be honoured
so much for being philosophers, as to honour philosophy by their
virtuous lives. You advised me to the like concerning Angling, and I
will endeavour to do so; and to live like those many worthy men, of
which you made mention in the former part of your discourse. This is
my firm resolution. And as a pious man advised his friend, that, to
beget mortification, he should frequent churches, and view monuments,
and charnel-houses, and then and there consider how many dead bodies
time had piled up at the gates of death, so 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. This is my purpose; and so, let everything that hath breath
praise the Lord: and let the blessing of St. Peter's Master be with mine.
Piscator And upon all that are lovers of virtue; and dare trust in his
providence; and be quiet; and go a Angling.
"Study to be quiet."
Pages:
1 |
2 |
3 |
4 |
5 |
6 |
7 |
8 |
9 |
10 |
11 |
12 |
13 | 14