FOR A COPY OF 'THE COMPLEAT ANGLER' by HENRY AUSTIN DOBSON

'Le reve de la vie champetre a ete de tout temps l'ideal des
villes.' -- GEORGE SAND.

I CARE not much how folks prefer
To dress your Chubb or Chavender;
I care no whit for line or hook,
But still I love old IZAAK'S book,
Wherein a man may read at ease
Of 'gandergrass' and 'culverkeys,'
Or with half-pitying wonder, note
What Topsell, what Du Bartas wrote,
Or list the song, by Maudlin sung,
That Marlowe made when he was young: --
These things, in truth, delight me more
Than all old IZAAK'S angling lore.

These were his SECRET. What care I
How men concoct the Hawthorn-fly,
Who could as soon 'stroke Syllabub'
As catch your Chavender or Chubb;
And might not, in ten years, arrive
At baiting hooks with frogs, alive! --
But still I love old IZAAK'S page,
Old IZAAK'S simple Golden Age,
Where blackbirds flute from ev'ry bough,
Where lasses 'milk the sand-red cow,'
Where lads are 'sturdy foot-ball swains,'
And nought but soft 'May-butter' rains;
Where you may breathe untainted air
Either at Hodsden or at Ware;
And sing, or slumber, or look wise
Till Phoebus sink adown the skies;

Then, laying rod and tackle by,
Choose out some 'cleanly Alehouse' nigh,
With ballads 'stuck about the wall,'
Of Joan of France or English Mall --
With sheets that smell of lavender --
There eat your Chubb (or Chavender).
And keep old IZAAK'S honest laws
For 'mirth that no repenting draws' --
To wit, a friendly stave or so,
That goes to Heigh-trolollie-loe,
Or, more to make the ale-can pass,
A hunting song of William Basse --
Then talk of fish and fishy diet,
And dream you -- 'Study to be quiet.'

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