[The following are the verses mentioned on page lxxviii.] THE RETIREMENT. STANZES IRREGULIERS, ΤΟ MR. IZAAK WALTON. I. FAREWELL, thou busy world, and may Here I can eat, and sleep, and pray, II. Good God! how sweet are all things here! How cleanly do we feed and lie! What peace, what unanimity! How innocent from the lewd fashion Is all our business, all our recreation! III. Oh how happy here 's our leisure! By turns to come and visit ye! IV. Dear solitude, the soul's best friend, And would be glad to do so still, For it is thou alone, that keep'st the soul awake. V. How calm and quiet a delight Is it, alone, To read, and meditate, and write, By none offended, and offending none! To walk, ride, sit, or sleep at one's own ease! And, pleasing a man's self, none other to displease. VI. Oh my beloved nymph, fair Dove! Princess of rivers! how I love Upon thy flowery banks to lie, And view thy silver stream, And, with my angle, upon them I ever learnt, industriously to try. VII. Such streams Rome's yellow Tiber cannot show, The Maese, the Danube, and the Rhine Are puddle water all, compared with thine: The rapid Garonne, and the winding Seine, Beloved Dove, with thee To vie priority; Nay, Thame and Isis, when conjoined, submit, VIII. Oh my beloved rocks! that rise To awe the earth and brave the skies, From some aspiring mountain's crown, Giddy with pleasure, to look down; And, from the vales, to view the noble heights above! Oh my beloved caves! from dog-star's heat And all anxieties my safe retreat : What safety, privacy, what true delight, In the artificial night Your gloomy entrails make, Have I taken, do I take ! How oft, when grief has made me fly, To hide me from society Even of my dearest friends, have I, In your recesses' friendly shade, All my sorrows open laid, And my most secret woes intrusted to your privacy! IX. Lord! would men let me alone, Should I think myself to be; (Which most men in discourse disgrace) Would I, maugre winter's cold Without an envious eye On any thriving under fortune's smile, Contented live, and then contented die. C. C. |