Click in the field, then press CTRL+C to copy the HTML code
<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=536976" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Britannia's Pastorals</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Now as an angler melancholy standing<br>Upon a green bank yielding room for landing,<br>A wriggling yellow worm thrust on his hook,<br>Now in the midst he throws, then in a nook:<br>Here pulls his line, there throws it in again,<br>Mendeth his cork and bait, but all in vain,<br>He long stands viewing of the curled stream;<br>At last a hungry pike, or well-grown bream<br>Snatch at the worm, and hasting fast away,<br>He knowing it a fish of stubborn sway,<br>Pulls up his rod, but soft, as having skill,<br>Wherewith the hook fast holds the fish's gill;<br>Then all his line he freely yieldeth him,<br>Whilst furiously all up and down doth swim<br>Th' insnared fish, here on the top doth scud,<br>There underneath the banks, then in the mud,<br>And with his frantic fits so scares the shoal,<br>That each one takes his hide, or starting hole:<br>By this the pike, clean wearied, underneath<br>A willow lies, and pants (if fishes breathe)<br>Wherewith the angler gently pulls him to him,<br>And lest his haste might happen to undo him,<br>Lays down his rod, then takes his line in hand,<br>And by degrees getting the fish to land,<br>Walks to another pool: at length is winner<br>Of such a dish as serves him for his dinner:<br>So when the climber half the way had got,<br>Musing he stood, and busily 'gan plot<br>How (since the mount did always steeper tend)<br>He might with steps secure his journey end.<br>At last (as wand'ring boys to gather nuts)<br>A hooked pole he from a hazel cuts;<br>Now throws it here, then there to take some hold,<br>But bootless and in vain, the rocky mould<br>Admits no cranny where his hazel hook<br>Might promise him a step, till in a nook<br>Somewhat above his reach he hath espied<br>A little oak, and having often tried<br>To catch a bough with standing on his toe,<br>Or leaping up, yet not prevailing so,<br>He rolls a stone towards the little tree,<br>Then gets upon it, fastens warily<br>His pole unto a bough, and at his drawing<br>The early-rising crow with clam'rous cawing,<br>Leaving the green bough, flies about the rock,<br>Whilst twenty twenty couples to him flock:<br>And now within his reach the thin leaves wave,<br>With one hand only then he holds his stave,<br>And with the other grasping first the leaves,<br>A pretty bough he in his fist receives;<br>Then to his girdle making fast the hook,<br>His other hand another bough hath took;<br>His first, a third, and that, another gives,<br>To bring him to the place where his root lives.<br>Then, as a nimble squirrel from the wood,<br>Ranging the hedges for his filberd-food,<br>Sits peartly on a bough his brown nuts cracking,<br>And from the shell the sweet white kernel taking,<br>Till with their crooks and bags a sort of boys,<br>To share with him, come with so great a noise,<br>That he is forc'd to leave a nut nigh broke,<br>And for his life leap to a neighbour oak,<br>Thence to a beech, thence to a row of ashes;<br>Whilst through the quagmires, and red water plashes,<br>The boys run dabbling thorough thick and thin;<br>One tears his hose, another breaks his shin,<br>This, torn and tatter'd, hath with much ado<br>Got by the briars; and that hath lost his shoe;<br>This drops his band; that headlong falls for haste;<br>Another cries behind for being last;<br>With sticks and stones, and many a sounding holloa,<br>The little fool, with no small sport, they follow,<br>Whilst he, from tree to tree, from spray to spray,<br>Gets to the wood, and hides him in his dray:<br>Such shift made Riot ere he could get up,<br>And so from bough to bough he won the top,<br>Though hindrances, for ever coming there,<br>Were often thrust upon him by Despair.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=William+Browne">William Browne</a><div class=q>
<img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share">
<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=536976" data-title="Britannia's Pastorals de William Browne" data-description="Now as an angler melancholy standing
Upon a green bank yielding room for landing,
A wriggling yellow worm thrust on his hook,
Now in the midst he throws, then in a nook:
Here pulls his line, there throws it in again,
Mendeth his cork and bait, but..."></div>
</div>
</div>