With these
and a short line, as I shewed to angle for a Chub, you may cape or cop,
and also with a grasshopper, behind a tree, or in any deep hole; still
making it to move on the top of the water as if it were alive, and still
keeping yourself out of sight, you shall certainly have sport if there be
Trouts; yea, in a hot day, but especially in the evening of a hot day, you
will have sport.
And now, scholar, my direction for fly-fishing is ended with this
shower, for it has done raining. And now look about you, and see how
pleasantly that meadow looks; nay, and the earth smells so sweetly too.
Come let me tell you what holy Mr. Herbert says of such days and
flowers as these, and then we will thank God that we enjoy them, and
walk to the river and sit down quietly, and try to catch the other place
of Trouts.
Sweet day, so cool, so calm, so bright,
The bridal of the earth and sky,
Sweet dews 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 shews you have your closes,
And all must die.
Only a sweet and virtuous soul,
Like season'd timber, never gives,
But when the whole world turns to coal,
Then chiefly lives.
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