Izaak Walton Poems

Our _Donne_ is dead; England should mourne, may say
We had a man where language chose to stay
And shew her gracefull power. I would not praise
...

Sir,

I lov'd you for your Synagogue, before
I knew your person; but now love you more;
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This was for youth, Strength, Mirth, and wit that Time
Most count their golden Age; but t'was not thine.
...

I cannot keep my purpose, but must give
Sorrow and Verse their way; nor will I grieve
Longer in silence; no, that poor, poor part
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If thou would'st be a _States-man_, and survay
Kingdomes for information; heres a way
Made plaine, and easie: fitter far for thee
Then great _Ortelius_ his _Geographie_.
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My worthy friend, I am much pleas'd to know,
You have begun to pay the debt you ow ...
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