Cor. Come, now for your Song, for we have fed heartily. Come Hostis, give us a little more drink, and lay a few more sticks on the fire, and now sing when you will.
Pisc. Well then, here's to you Coridon; and now for my Song.
Oh the brave Fisher's life,
It is the best of any,
'Tis full of pleasure, void of strife,
And 'tis belov'd of many:
Other joyes
are but toyes,
only this
lawful is,
for our skil
breeds no ill,
but content and pleasure.
In a morning up we rise
Ere Aurora's peeping,
Drink a cup to wash our eyes,
Leave the sluggard sleeping;
Then we go
too and fro,
with our knacks
at our backs,
to such streams
as the Thames
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 intangle.
We have Gentles in a horn,
We have Paste and worms too,
We can watch both night and morn.
Suffer rain and storms too:
None do here
use to swear,
oathes do fray
fish away.
we sit still,
watch our quill,
Fishers must not rangle.
If the Suns excessive heat
Makes our bodies swelter
To an Osier hedge we get
For a friendly shelter,
where in a dike Pearch or Pike,
Roch or Dace
we do chase Bleak or Gudgion
without grudging,
we are still contented.
Or we sometimes pass an hour,
Under a green willow,
That defends us from a showr,
Making earth our pillow,
There we may
think and pray
before death
stops our breath;
other joyes
are but toyes
and to be lamented.
Viat. Well sung, Master; this dayes fortune and pleasure, and this nights company and Song, do all make me more and more in love with Angling. Gentlemen, my Master left me alone for an hour this day, and I verily believe he retir'd himself from talking with me, that he might be so perfect in this Song; was it not Master?
Pisc. Yes indeed, for it is many yeers since I learn'd it, and having forgotten a part of it, I was forced to patch it up by the help of my own invention, who am not excellent at Poetry, as my part of the Song may testifie: But of that I will say no more, least you should think I mean by discommending it, to beg your commendations of it. And therefore without replications, lets hear your Ketch, Scholer, which I hope will be a good one, for you are both Musical, and have a good fancie to boot.
Viat. Marry, and that you shall, and as freely as I would have my honest Master tel me some more secrets of fish and fishing as we walk and fish towards London to morrow. But Master, first let me tell you, that that very hour which you were absent from me, I sate down under a Willow tree by the water side, and considered what you had told me of the owner of that pleasant Meadow in which you then left me, that he had a plentiful estate, and not a heart to think so; that he had at this time many Law Suites depending, and that they both damp'd his mirth and took up so much of his time and thoughts, that he himselfe had not leisure to take the sweet content that I, who pretended no title, took in his fields; for I could there sit quietly, and looking on the water, see fishes leaping at Flies of several shapes and colours; looking on the Hils, could behold them spotted with Woods and Groves; looking down the Meadows, could see here a Boy gathering Lillies and Lady-smocks, and there a Girle cropping Culverkeys and Cowslips, all to make Garlands sutable to this pleasant Month of May; these and many other Field-flowers so perfum'd the air, that I thought this Meadow like the field in Sicily (of which Diodorus speaks) where the perfumes arising from the place, makes all dogs that hunt in it, to fall off, and to lose their hottest sent. I say, as I thus sate joying in mine own happy condition, and pittying that rich mans that ought this, and many other pleasant Groves and Meadows about me, I did thankfully remember what my Saviour said, that the meek possess the earth; for indeed they are free from those high, those restless thoughts and contentions which corrode the sweets of life. For they, and they only, can say as the Poet has happily exprest it.
Hail blest estate of poverty!
Happy enjoyment of such minds,
As rich in low contentedness.
Can, like the reeds in roughest winds,
By yeelding make that blow but smal
At which proud Oaks and Cedars fal.
Gentlemen, these were a part of the thoughts that then possest me, and I there made a conversion of a piece of an old Ketch, and added more to it, fitting them to be sung by us Anglers: Come, Master, you can sing well, you must sing a part of it as it is in this paper.
The ANGLERS Song.
For two Voyces, Treble and Basso. CANTUS. Mr. Henry Lawes.