Angler's song

As inward love breeds outward talk,The Hound some praise, and some the HawkSome, better pleas'd with private sport,Use Tennis; some a Mistress court:But these delights I neither wish,Nor envy, while I freely fish.

Who hunts, doth oft in danger ride;Who hawks, lures oft both far & wide;Who uses games, may often proveA loser; but who falls in love,Is fettered in fond Cupid's snare:My Angle breeds me no such care.

Of Recreation there is noneSo free as fishing is alone;All other pastimes do no lessThan mind and body both possess;My hand alone my work can do.So I can fish and study too.

I care not, I, to fish in seas.Fresh rivers best my mind do please.Whose sweet calm course I contemplate.And seek in life to imitate;In civil bounds I fain would keepAnd for my past offenses weep.

And when the timorous Trout I waitTo take, and he devours my bait.How poor a thing, sometimes I find,Will captivate a greedy mind;And when none bite, I praise the wiseWhom vain allurements ne'er surprise.

But yet, though while I fish I fast,I make good fortune my repast;And thereunto my friend invite,In whom I more than that delight:Who is more welcome to my dish.Then to my Angle was my fish.

As well content no prize to take,As use of taken prize to make;For so our Lord was pleased, whenHe Fishers made Fishers of men;Where (which is in no other game)A man may fish and praise his name.

The first men that our Saviour dearDid choose to wait upon him here,Blest Fishers were; and fish the lastFood was, that he on earth did taste:I therefore strive to follow thoseWhom he to follow him hath chose.