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 PREFACE AND NOTES, 
 
 CHARLES A. ELTON. 
 
 Spirat adhuc amor 
 Vivuntqiie commissi calores. 
 
 Hor. 
 
 BRISTOL: 
 
 PRINTED AND PUBLISHED BY J. M. GUTCH 9 
 
 15, Small-Street; 
 
 *OLD ALSO BY R. BALDWIN, PATERNOSTER-ROW ; J. MURRAY, 
 
 ALBEMARLE-bTREET J AND R. TRIPHOOK, ST. JAMES V 
 
 STREET, LONDON. 
 

PREFATORY ESSAY. 
 
 lHE late Mr. Headley, in the " Biographical 
 Sketches" prefixed to his ei Select Beauties of 
 ancient English Poetry," speaks of Habington, as 
 a writer, " «ome of whose pieces deserve being 
 revived :" and Sir Egerton Brydgcs, in his u Cen- 
 sura Literaria," has given a critical analysis of 
 the Castara. Mr. Chalmers has reprinted the 
 work in his enlarged edition of The British Poets ; 
 and has pointed out its distinguishing merits with 
 elegance aHd precision. As the poems are now 
 only accessible in the body of a voluminous collec- 
 tion, owing tothescarcen^,s of the original copies, 
 it seems desirable that they should be republished 
 in a separate form. The present edition is printed 
 from that which bears date 1640. 
 
 Some account of the immediate ancestors of 
 William Habington may not be uninteresting. 
 
 B 
 
PREFATORY ESSAY. 
 
 Thomas Habington, (sometimes spelt Abington) 
 was the son of John Habington of Hendlip, in 
 Worcestershire: and grandson of Richard Habing- 
 ton of Brockhampton, in Herefordshire. Thomas, 
 at sixteen, became a commoner of Lincoln Col- 
 lege, Oxford ; and finished his academical studies 
 at the universities of Paris and Rheims. On his 
 return to England, he joined the adherents of 
 Mary, Queen of Scots ; and, on suspicion of being 
 implicated in Babington's conspiracy, was impri- 
 soned six years in the Tower. The circumstance 
 of his being godson to Queen Elizabeth, to whom 
 his father, John, was cofferer, it is supposed, ope- 
 rated in his favor, so that his life was spared. But 
 his younger brother, Edward, who had engaged in 
 the same conspiracy, and was, says Wood, u a 
 person of a turbulent spirit, and nature," was 
 executed at St. Giles's in the fields, in September 
 1586. Thomas, on his liberation, retired to 
 Hendlip, the manor of which was settled on him 
 by his father, and married Mary, eldest daughter 
 of Edward lord Morley, by Elizabeth, daughter 
 and sole heiress of Sir William Stanley, knight, 
 lord Mounteagle. He was, afterwards, exposed 
 to a similar danger, and actually sentenced ta 
 
PREFATORY ESSAY. 
 
 death, for concealing in his house* Garnet and 
 Alcerne, two Popish priests, who were concerned 
 in the Gunpowder plot ; but was reprieved, and 
 finally pardoned, through the intercession of Lord 
 Mountcagle, his wife's brother. Mary Habington 
 was, in fact, the real author of the celebrated warn- 
 ing letter which Lord Mounteagle received, the day 
 before the meeting of Parliament. Thomas Habing- 
 ton died at the advanced age of eighty-seven^ at 
 Hendlip, on the 8th of October, 1647. 
 
 His only published work was, a translation of 
 Gildas, " De excidio et conquestu Britanniae," 
 with an ample preface, 8vo. Lond. 1638 ; but he 
 left behind him in manuscript, u The Antiquities 
 and Survey of Worcestershire :" u Part of this 
 book," says Wood, " I have seen, and perused; 
 and find that every leaf is a sufficient testimony of 
 his generous, and virtuous mind ; of his indefati- 
 gable industry, and infinite reading :" and, "Of 
 the Cathedral Church, and Bishops of Worcester," 
 written with his own hand, in a thin folio. The 
 preamble, quoted by Wood, is a specimen of the 
 style of the age — " God's eternal empire of heaven 
 
 * See Nash's Worcestershire, vol. 1. page 585, and in page 
 588 is a view of Hendlip House ; with engraved portraits of 
 John Habington the founder, Thomas, and Mary his wife* 
 
PREFATORY ESSAY. 
 
 endureth for ever. " He, also, laid the ground- 
 work of " The History of Edward IV. " after- 
 wards completed and published by his son* 
 
 William Habington was born at Hendlip, in 
 Worcestershire, on the 4th or 5th of November, 
 1605 : and reeeiyed his education at St. Omer's and 
 in Paris. He was earnestly pressed by the Jesuits 
 to belong to their order ; and, to avoid their impor- 
 tunities, returned to England, where he finished 
 his studies under the immediate eye of his father : 
 and applied himself, in particular, to history. Re- 
 port speaks of him as "an accomplished gentle- 
 man," He married Lucia, daughter, of William 
 lord Powis ; the lady whom he has celebrated 
 under the name of Castara, and who is described 
 by Winstanly, in his lives of the poets, as " a 
 lady of rare endowments and beauty." Habing- 
 ton died November 30th, 1654: one year after 
 Cromwell's* elevation to the protectorship ; and 
 was buried in the family vault at Hendlip, 
 
 * Yfood insinuates, in a vague manner, that " this William 
 " Habington did run with the times, and was not unknown to 
 Oliver the usurper." That men of upright and honourable minds 
 were enlisted both on the monarchical and popular side must be 
 acknowledged by all, in whom the bigotry of party has not ex- 
 tinguished charity. But against Wood's surmise we have the 
 strongest possible presumptive evidence. Habington v, as a 
 
PREFATORY ESSAY. 
 
 Exclusive of the Castara, which will presently 
 he considered, he was the author of a tragi-comedy 
 entitled " The Queen of Arragon ;" whicli he pre- 
 sented to the Earl of Pembroke, Lord Chamber- 
 lain of the household to Charles the First. It was 
 acted at Court and the Black-Friars ; and printed 
 at London in folio, 1640. It now appears in 
 Dodsley's collection of old plays. Of his " His- 
 t ry of Edward IV. King of England," Lond. 
 1640, fol. Wood tells us without probability, that 
 the work was both " written and published at the 
 desire of C arles the First :" We have seen that it 
 was begun by Habington the father. He adds, 
 
 Roman Catholic ; and it is not likely that he should side witb 
 the Presbyterians : he was full of courtly loyalty ; and it i? 
 quite improbable that he should pass to the extreme of repub- 
 licanism. The passages 
 
 And who were busie here - 
 Are gone to sow sedition in the shire. 
 and 
 
 Only a pure devotion to the king, 
 In whose just cause whoever fights mi^t he 
 Triumphant, 
 are too strong to admit of so sudden and radical a change in a 
 man of principle, which Habington appears to have been. Lang- 
 baine quaintly speaks of him a* " a gentleman who lived in the 
 civil wars, and, blighting Be]iona, gave himself entirely to the 
 Muses ;" and th^ probability is, that he took no active part in 
 the state commotions, 
 
 
PREFATORY ESSAY. 
 
 that a it was by many esteemed to have a style 
 sufficiently florid, and better becoming a poetical, 
 than historical subject." In the " Complete History 
 »^of England," 1706 ; the two first volumes of which 
 £/*C were compned by Hughes the poet, Habington's 
 Life of Edward is inserted among other adopted 
 lives. He also wrote " Observations on History," 
 London, 1641, octavo. 
 
 There is a copy of the Castara in the li- 
 brary of St. John's College, Oxford ; this bears 
 date 1634, and is the first edition. A second, in 
 octavo, succeeded in 1635 ; and a third, with addi- 
 tions, of a small duodecimo size, in 1640f The final 
 arrangement of the work was in three parts, under 
 different titles, and each introduced by a charac- 
 ter in prose. The first, The Mistress, contains 
 the poems addressed to the Lady Lucia during 
 his courtship ; the second, The Wife, includes 
 those which he composed after their marriage. On 
 this second part is ingrafted The Friend ; a collec- 
 tion of funeral elegies ; which is preceded, like the 
 former, with a prose character, and is evidently a 
 distinct part of itself. It is, therefore, so disposed 
 in the present edition. The third, or, as I have 
 printed it, the fourth part, is entitled The Holy 
 Man ; and consists of devotional pieces. From a 
 
PREFATORY ESSAY. 
 
 a delicate compliment to his wife, he has com- 
 prehended these several divisions of the work 
 under the general title of u Castara." Win- 
 stanly justly characterizes the author as u one 
 of a quick wit, and fluent language;'' ~and says, 
 that his poems on their coming out, Ci gained a 
 general fame and estimation. " 
 
 The amatory poetry of Habington is that of a 
 man, who regards woman as a highly intellectual 
 being ; not as the mere slave and instrument of sen- 
 sual pleasure : and the correctness of his mind, in 
 this particular, is equally apparent in his prose and 
 verse. There are writers of the present day, who, 
 if they could be supposed capable of any touches of 
 moral compunction, might start at a passage in the 
 preface to Castara, with no common self-abasement 
 and remorse. " Of such heathens our times afford 
 us a pittycd multitude 5 who can give no other 
 testimony of twenty years employment,, than some 
 loose copies of lust happily exprest. Yet these 
 the common people of wit blow up with their 
 breath of praise, and honour with the sacred name 
 of poets." 
 
 In Habington we have no burning glances, cr 
 murmuring blisses, or blasphemous exclamations 
 
PREFATORY ESSAY. 
 
 of delirious rapture. Still less is the lady insulted 
 by vaunts of a general and systematic sensuality. 
 She is neither complimented by the assurance of 
 dividing the thoughts of her lover with the vulgar 
 pleasures of the glass, nor told that between kisses 
 and bumpers life glides pleasantly away. Instead 
 of this, we hear the delicacy of sentiment with which 
 our grandmothers were pleased to be addressed, and 
 to which our daughters may lend their ear, without 
 risk of mental contamination. 
 
 The following stanzas breathe an affectionate 
 esteem, and are easy, simple, and poetical: 
 
 Like the violet, which alone 
 Prospers in some happy shade. 
 My Castara lives unknowne, 
 To no looser eye betray'd : 
 For shee's to herself untrue 
 "Who delights i'th' publicke view. 
 
 Such is her beauty^ as no arts 
 Have enrich'd with borrow'd graee; 
 Her high birth no pride imparts, 
 For shee blushes in her place ; 
 Folly boasts a glorious blood ; 
 She is noblest being good. 
 
 Shee her throne makes reason climbe, 
 While wild passions captive lie j 
 And, each article of time, 
 
PREFAT011F ESSAY. 
 
 Her pure thoughts to heaven flie ; 
 All her vowes religious be, 
 And her love she vows to me. 
 
 Easy numbers are not his only praise; his 
 style is often pointed and vigorous. 
 
 Give me a heart, where no impure, 
 
 Disordered passions rage ; 
 Which jealousy doth not obscure, 
 Nor vanity t'expence engage ; 
 Not wooed to madnesse by quaint oatlies, 
 Or the fine rhetoricke of clothes m t 
 "Which not the softness of the eye 
 To vice or folly doth decline ; 
 Give me that heart Castara! for tis thine. 
 
 Take thou a heart, where no new looke 
 
 Provokes new appetite ; 
 "With no freshe charme of beauty tooke, 
 Or wanton stratagem of wit ; 
 Not idly wandering here and there, 
 Led by an am'rous eye or eare ; 
 Aiming each beautious marke to hit ; 
 Which virtue doth to one confine ;. 
 Take thou that heart Castara ! for tis mine. 
 
 His figures and illustrations are almost always 
 new and uncommon, and denote a lively and preg- 
 nant imagination. They are not always free from 
 conceit, but they frequently strike by their elegant 
 appositeness, no less than by their fanciful beauty* 
 
10 PREFATORY ESSAY. 
 
 They meet but with unwholesome springs, 
 And summers, which infectious are ; 
 They heare but when the meremaid sings. 
 And onely see the falling starre ; 
 
 Who ever dare 
 Affirme no woman chaste and fair. 
 
 There is, perhaps, something of the manner, 
 though not quite the smoothness of Waller, in 
 these stanzas on an embrace : 
 
 ^Bout th' husband oke the vine 
 Thus wreathes, to kisse hisleavy face; 
 
 Their streams thus rivers joyne, 
 And lose themselves in the embrace ; 
 But trees want sence, when they infold, 
 And waters, when they meet, are cold. 
 
 Thus turtles bill, and grone 
 Their loves into each other's eare ; 
 
 Two flames tfrus burne in one, 
 "When their curl'd heads to heaven they reare j 
 
 But birds want soul, though not desire, 
 
 And flames materiall soon expire. 
 
 The poems to the memory of his friend Talbot 
 have the common fault of poetical sorrow : they 
 are too elaborate in fancy for the natural effusions 
 of grief. But to this there are exceptions. The be- 
 ginning of his address tothespirit of the departed, 
 is vnaiTcctedly tender and solemn. 
 
PREFATORY ESSAY. 11 
 
 Let me contemplate thee, fair soule ! and though 
 I cannot tracke the way, which thou didst goe 
 -In thy celestiall journey, and my heart 
 Expanssion wants, to thinke what now thou art, 
 How bright and wide thy glories; yet I may 
 Remember thee, as thou wert in thy clay ; 
 Best object to my heart ! what virtues be 
 Inherent even to the least thought of thee ! 
 
 Wc meet occasionally with original and philo- 
 sophic reflexion : 
 
 But all we poets glory in, is vaine 
 And empty triumph ; art can not regaine 
 One poore houre lost, nor reskew a small flye 
 By a foole's finger destinate to die. 
 
 In the lines that conclude these elegies, no one 
 can fail to recognize the poet. The conceit of the 
 ashes of the pious dead exhaling odours, conveys 
 a disagreeable association ; but he is not the only 
 writer who has adopted it. The splendor of dic- 
 tion and imagery which distinguishes this passage, 
 is such as to place the genius of Habington in a 
 yery conspicuous light. 
 
 Thou eclips'd dust ! expecting breake of day 
 From the thieke mists about thy tombe, 1'le pay, 
 Like tiie just larke, the tribute of my \ersc. 
 I will invite thee from thy envious herse 
 Xq rise, aud 'bout the world thy beams to spread, 
 
12 PREFATORY ESSAY. 
 
 That we ma)' see there's brightnesse in the dead. 
 My zeal deludes me not. What perfumes come 
 From th' happy vault r iu her sweet martyrdorae 
 The nard breathes never so, nor so the rose, 
 "When the enamour'd spring by kissing blowes 
 Soft blushes on her cheeke, nor th' early East, 
 Vying with Paradice, in th' Phoenix nest. 
 These gentle perfumes usher in the day, 
 Which from the night of his discolour'd clay 
 Breakes on the sudden. 
 
 The passage has already exceeded the license 
 ©f transcription ; but I cannot refrain from adding 
 the close of it; in which a very striking sentiment i3 
 expressed with very uncommon energy of language. 
 
 But, if w' are $o far blind, we cannot see 
 The wonder of this truth, yet let us be 
 Not infidels ; nor like dull atheists give 
 Ourselves so long to lust, till we believe, 
 (T' allay the griefe of sinne) that we shall fall 
 To a loath'd nothing in our funeral!. 
 The bad man's death is horror : but the just 
 Keeps something of his glory in his-dust. 
 
 The sacred lyrics, which conclude the volume, 
 are chiefly paraphrases of texts out of the Psalms, 
 and the book of Job. Habington seems to please 
 himself in lyric poetry. At least, to my ear, his 
 rhythm is never so pleasing as when it flows in the 
 
PREFATORY ESSAY. 13 
 
 measures of the ode. The stanzas on the amorous 
 idolatries of poets will not easily be paralleled 
 for softness of numbers, luxuriance of expresssion, 
 and elegance of thought. 
 
 Noe monument of me remaine ; 
 
 My memoiie rust 
 In the same marble with my dust; 
 Ere [ the spreading lawrel gaine 
 By writing wanton or profane. 
 
 Ye glorious wonders of the skies, 
 
 Shine still, bright starres, 
 Th' Almightie's mystick characters ; 
 I'le not your beautious lights surpriz-e, 
 T' illuminate a woman's eyes. 
 
 Jtfor, to perfume her veines, will I 
 In each one set 
 The purple of the violet ; 
 The untoucht flowre may grow and dye 
 Safe from my fancie's injurie. 
 
 From some few specimens in the former part 
 of the work, it should appear that he would have 
 excelled also in satyric pleasan(ry; the lines to 
 Sir Ed. P. descriptive of a feast, are lively 
 and Horatian ; but enriched with more poetic ima- 
 gery, than we meet with in the familiar satires of 
 II* race. 
 
14 PREFATORY ESSAY. 
 
 The prose, interspersed with the volume, should 
 not pass without notice. It is a valuable relic of 
 this author's well-principled and cultivated mind. 
 It has a tincture of that floridness, objected by 
 Wood to his historical style, and is coloured oc- 
 casionally with something of the quaintness of wit, 
 which we remark in Burton; but there is great 
 pithiness of sense, and closeness of expression in 
 what Habington writes. u Her language," he 
 observes of a virtuous mistress, u is not copious, 
 but apposite; and she had rather suffer the re- 
 proach of being dull in company, than have the 
 title of witty with that of bold and wanton. In 
 her carriage she is sober ; and thinks her youth 
 expresseth life enough, without the giddy motion, 
 fashion of late has taken up. She danceth to the 
 best applause, but doates not on the vanity of it; 
 nor licenseth an irregular meeting to vaunt the 
 levity of her skilL She sings, but not perpe- 
 tually; for she knows that silence, in a woman, 
 is the most perswading oratory. She never arri- 
 ved to so much familiarity with a man, as to know 
 the diminutive of his name, and call him by it ; 
 and she can show a competent favor, without 
 yielding her hand to his gripe." 
 
PREFATORY ESSAY. 15 
 
 Of a wife he says, " She is so true a friend, 
 her husband may to her communicate even his 
 ambitions, and, if success crown not expectation, 
 remain, nevertheless, uncontcmned. She is col- 
 league with him in the empire of prosperity, and a 
 safe retiring place, when adversity exiles him from 
 the world. She is so chaste she never understood 
 the language lust speaks in, nor with a smile ap- 
 plauds it, although there appear wit in the mcta- 
 phore." 
 
 In the eyes of those, who value a medal for 
 its rust, it will not detract from the merit of 
 Habington, that his verses, more especially his 
 couplets, are sometimes broken and rugged : that 
 they are, sometimes, clogged with parenthesis, and 
 harshly jangled out of tune by rough and arbi- 
 trary elisions of letters and syllables. The admi- 
 rers of classical simplicity will not fail, also, to 
 detect, in several of his compositions, a faulty 
 mixture of metaphysical pedantry, which insinuates 
 itself among passages of, otherwise, singular de- 
 licacy and beauty. 
 
 When he once gives therein to his imagination, 
 he seems unable to retain the mastery of it. 
 
 What should we feare Castara ? the cool aire, 
 That's falne in love, and wantons in thy haire, 
 
 / 
 
16 PREFATORY ESSAY, 
 
 Will not betray our whispers. Should I steale 
 A nectar'd kisse, the wind dares not reveale 
 The pleasure I possesse. The wind conspires 
 To our blest interview, and in our fires 
 Bathes like a Salamander, and doth sip, 
 Like Bacchus from the grape, life from thy Up, 
 
 The opening of the poem to Mr. E. Porter, is 
 in a wild and pleasing strain of romantic poetry. 
 
 Not still i' th' shine of kings. Thou dost retire, 
 Sometime, to th' holy shade, where the chaste quire 
 Of muses doth the stubbome Panther awe, 
 And give the wildenesse of his nature law. 
 The wind his chariot stops : th' attentive rocke 
 The rigor doth of its creation mocke, 
 And gently melts away. 
 
 but he cannot forbear adding, 
 
 Argus, to heart 
 The music, turns each eye into an eare. 
 
 A very fine imitation of part of an ode of 
 Horace is disgraced by a pedantic witticism in the 
 style of Cowley : 
 
 Direct your eye-sight inward, and you'le find 
 
 A thousand regions in your minde 
 Yet undiscover'd : travell then, and be 
 
 Expert in home-cosmographie. 
 
 During Castara's absence, the lover conceives 
 himself dead, and deprecates the idea of being 
 
Prefatory essay. 17 
 
 dissected. He then imagines that his friends sup- 
 pose him still living, and assures them that either 
 a spirit has taken his form, or 
 
 Use heaven by miraele makes me survive 
 Myselfe, to keepe in me poore love alive. 
 
 Could Cowley himself have gone beyond him ? 
 
 One of the stanzas u To the world/' furnishes 
 a resemblance both to the grossness and abstruse 
 conceit of Donne. But he has no other of the 
 same kind. 
 
 AY hen we speake love, nor art, nor wit, 
 
 Weglosse upon ; 
 Our souls engender, and beget 
 Ideas, which >ou counterfeit 
 In your dull propagation. 
 
 On his lady's sickness, he supposes a dart shot 
 from her eyes to have singed the wings of death, 
 and obliged him to hover near her. Olher poets, 
 more timid or less ingenious, have regarded the 
 approach of death to beauty with terror and aver- 
 sion. But with tame, common sense, what poeti- 
 cal metaphysician would rest satisfied ? 
 
 They who loath'd thee, when they see 
 Where thou harbours't, will love thee. 
 Deatlv was never, probably, so complimented 
 before. 
 
 € 
 
18 PREFATORY ESSAY. 
 
 Of that frigid purity, which consists in the 
 exclusion of every thing sensibly human, he has 
 more than one example ; his ode " to the dew," 
 betrays that " cold glitter'* of sentiment/which 
 Mr, Coleridge ascribes to Petrarch : 
 
 But see — she comes ; bright lamp o' th'skie 
 Put out thy light ; the world shall spie a 
 A fairer sunne in either eye. 
 
 And liquid pearle, hang heavy now 
 On every grasse, that it may bow 
 In veneration of her brow. 
 
 But these were the vices of his time. I have 
 been thus minute in remarking on Habington's 
 defects, because these vices of his age are generally 
 overlooked, in the prevalent disposition to extol, 
 what is termed the vigorous simplicity of the 
 ancient school. That I am not insensible to the 
 genius of those poets who grace the period from 
 Elizabeth to Charles, ray revival of Habington 
 may be admitted as a sufficient proof; but the 
 latter sera cannot be classed as ancient, otherwise 
 than by comparison ; and certainly exhibits a 
 degree of sophisticated taste, incompatible with 
 the impression intended to be conveyed by the 
 phrase ancient poetry, and far exceeding, in its 
 capricious deviations from nature, the alledged 
 
P*ETATOItY ESSAY. 19 
 
 » ■ * ca 
 
 artificial refinements of the modern school. What 
 affinity has the glitter of Italian conceit to the 
 vigour of ancient simplicity ? 
 
 It appears at first sight not a little singular, 
 that Petrarch, the restorer of classical learning, 
 -who, when surprised by his father in the midst of 
 Roman authors, supplicatcd'that Virgil might be 
 spared to him from the flames, should in his own 
 compositions,haveso widely departed from the no- 
 ble purity of the ancient models. But his taste, pro- 
 bably, took its hue from the times in which he lived. 
 The genius of chivalry, receiving a particular bias 
 and direction from the spirit of the crusades, blend- 
 ed a highly wrought religious enthusiasm with a re- 
 verential courtesy towards women. This complex 
 sentiment gave the tone to the language of love, 
 and of poesy. Hence terms of divinity, and other 
 celestial attributes, were profusely lavished on the 
 fair sex : hence also, spiritual reveries supplanted 
 natural passion, and the obvious images of human 
 life being discarded as degrading and unworthy, 
 the fancy was ransacked for conceptions of pure 
 immateriality. 
 
 Towards the commencement of the Elizabethan 
 period, society still retained something of the co- 
 lor of chivalrous sentiment. The Earl of Surrey 
 e 2 
 
50 y PREFATORY ESSAY, 
 
 not only sang the praises of his Oeraldine, but 
 had broken a lance in defence of her peerless 
 perfections. This species of poetry was, there- 
 fore, not inconsistent with the general turn of 
 thinking, and cast of manners : the mistake was, 
 in continuing the same strain, when customs and 
 opinions had undergone a complete revolution* 
 
 The Petrarchal school appears to hare exube- 
 rated* into that, which Johnson, -j- in his able 
 analysis, has denominated the metaphysical, and 
 of which Pope in his sketch of the poetical asras, 
 classes Donne as the head. A studied imitation of 
 Italian poetry was, certainly, the germ of this 
 species of composition, though Petrarch is not 
 accountable for its adventitious extravagancies. 
 His imitators refined upon their archetype. They 
 have more affectation of multifarious learning: 
 They abound more with allusions to occult art 
 and science; a tincture, probably, of the fashion- 
 able studies of the day. Occasions for images, 
 metaphors, and comparisons, drawn from the 
 secrets of alchymy, and the planetary conjunctions, 
 
 * " he might, perhaps, have exuberated into an atheist.'* " 
 
 Johnson. Life by Boswell. 
 + Life of Cowley. 
 
PREFATORY ESSAY. c 2 I 
 
 are perpetually sought, and arc made, when they 
 cannot readily be found. Of this class of poets, 
 from whom the praise of happy ingenuity and a 
 learned fancy is not always to be withheld, it is 
 the most remarkable characteristic, that they arc 
 forever endeavouring to assimilate things, in them- 
 selves essentially dissimilar ; and what they evi- 
 dently value as their finest strokes of fancy, are 
 those chimerical parallels between objects incon- 
 gruous in their nature, which are brought into a 
 forced connexion of mock analogy, by dint of a 
 certain dexterity in twisting ideas, and playing 
 -upon words. Such is their fondness for this ap- 
 proximation of contraries, that they will resort to 
 the Iow r est, and most disgusting allusions, for the 
 sake of displaying their acuteness, effecting a 
 sudden surprise, and producing an unexpected 
 contrast. Who would expect such an illustration 
 as the following, in an ode upon Platonic Love: 
 
 Come, I will undeceive thee ; they that tread 
 
 These vain aeriall waves, 
 Are like young heirs and alchemysts, misled. 
 
 To waste their wealth and dayes ; 
 For searching thus to be for ever rich, 
 They only find a med'eine for the itch. 
 
 William Cartricjit 
 
 A 
 
22 PREFATORY ESSAY. 
 
 Another peculiarity affected by these writers. 
 is an unhappy ruggedness of measure, that seems to 
 defy every principle of rhythmical modulation. 
 Whether in thus putting verse to the torture they 
 meant to convey the impression of an easy neg- 
 ligence, it is impossible to say ; but dislocation 
 rather than collocation of syllables, appears to 
 have been the rule of their adopted harmony. An 
 and or a the is not seldom put in requisition for 
 the terminating rhyme; and the ear experiences a 
 sensation analogous to that which is communicated 
 by the joltings of a coach -wheel on a stony road. 
 So far from any regard being paid to the Iambic* 
 cadence, which, as Pope truly observed, influences 
 more or less the melodious flow of English verse, 
 there is, seemingly, an anxiety to obstruct the 
 uniform return of a stated emphasis ; and the poet 
 chuses to be guided by no other criterion, than 
 the necessity of squeezing so many syllables into 
 the line. It is not the least absurd feature of that 
 ballad-mongering taste, which has flowed in upon 
 
 * It is idle to dispute about the suitableness of the an- 
 cient metrical terms to modern prosody ; it is enough that 
 they are convenient : and whatever we may chuse to deno- 
 minate the regularly recurring stress on particular syllables, 
 the principle is the same. 
 
PULIATORY ESSAY. 53 
 
 us, that there are found poets who sedulously aim 
 at bringing back our metre* to this delectable 
 confusion of crippled feet and jangled sounds ; 
 who regard the verses of John Bun if an as cx- 
 
 * From the censure which attaches to these modern- 
 antique innovations, should be excepted 1 he Thalaba of 
 Southey. Its irregular and mixed measures are quite dis- 
 tinct from the established metre, and do not interfere with 
 its laws. They resemble Miltonic verse, broken into frag- 
 ments and detached periods : indeed, the monologues and 
 chorusscs of Samson slgonistes may have suggested this 
 structure of rhythm. It is less perceptibly or obtrusively 
 irregular, as it is not marked by the close of rhyme. It has 
 not, therefore, that pretension to finish and correctedness 
 which rhyme confers. We look on it as on the rough study 
 of a painter's pencil; the sketch is not a picture, but we are 
 satisfied with the sketch. The truth and richness of the des- 
 criptive painting, and the strong pathetic human interest 
 which is blended with the wildness of the sorcery, place this 
 poem high among the productions of original fancy. Much 
 higher, I think, than the Oberon of Wieland. Of the lan- 
 guage it may be said that it unaffectedly resembles the beau- 
 tiful prose-poetry of the English scriptures. The moral 
 sublimity of this metrical romance is exquisite. No man 
 rises from its'perusal without an elevated emotion, not un- 
 allied to the solemn enthusiasm of religious faith. The poem 
 is a species in itself. Genius can sanctify even errors : and 
 he that can err like the poet of Thalaba,. may err with 
 impunity. 
 
24 PREFATORY ESSAY. 
 
 hibiting the correctest model of genuine melody, 
 and who consider the satires of Dr. Donne as 
 irretrievably marred in their musical variety by 
 the regular adjustment of Pope. All this is ex- 
 tremely idle : to complain that verse is uniform, is 
 to complain that it is verse. 
 
 Whatever may be said of u balancing the verse 
 and making the first part of it betray the second/' 
 the metre of Virgil and Ovid is open to the same ob- 
 jection : and Mr. Pye has justly remarked, that the 
 concluding adonic of the hexameter line, marks the 
 close of the verse as strongly as the final rhyme in the 
 couplet of Pope. It is this anticipation of re- 
 ciprocated cadences which constitutes the charm 
 of lyric poetry. Pindarics had their day. The 
 Pindaric poets, also, disdained to adjust syllables 
 and pauses, or to make one line respond to ano- 
 ther. The ode had all the looseness and uncer- 
 tainty of a lapidary inscription ; and the numbers 
 wandered and wantoned in all the abrupt brevity 
 and immeasurable length, the tripping unevenness 
 and wallowing unwieldiness, of what was called 
 the Pindaric style. But the public grew dizzy 
 and weary, and the regular stanza was resumed. 
 
 As little seems to have been gained by the 
 restitution of couplet verse to the form which it had 
 
PREFATORY ESSAY. 26 
 
 before Waller and Dryden smoothed its rugged- 
 ncss and repressed its diffusion. When the sense 
 does not rest, in some degree, on the rhyme, the 
 rhyme appears always needlessly obtruded. In 
 blank measure, the pause is judiciously shifted to 
 different syllables in different successive lines : 
 because, if the sense were to close with the 
 verse, as is too generally the case in the poem of 
 the Seasons^ the absence of rhyme would be felt. 
 But an opposite principle should regulate the 
 couplet: occasional deviations may add to the 
 grace of composition ; as we often see in the bold 
 and felicitous practice of Dryden ; but it may be 
 generally affirmed that couplets are most harmo- 
 nious when complete in themselves ; for if broken 
 into each other, the interposal of rhyme becomes 
 a mere impediment to the flow of the lines, and 
 has the effect of impleasing interruption to the 
 ear. 
 
 To those who censure any studied care in 
 the interior disposition of the verse ; not from a 
 desire to vary the effect and extend (he boundaries 
 of melody, but on the principle that a regular 
 distribution of accent is needless and absurd ; and 
 who regard the very idea of metrical feet, in a 
 modern language, as a scholastic illusion, it would 
 
26 PREFATORY ESSAY. 
 
 be in rain to insist on the secret of that harmony, 
 -which glides in the flowing numbers of Dryden, 
 or the 'golden lines of Rowe.' True it is that we 
 do not possess the same advantages of measure, 
 the same regular diversity of long and short sylla- 
 bles as the Greeks and Latins : but in English 
 versification, the accent or emphasis of words, re- 
 duced to rule and arranged in a musical propor- 
 tion, is in some degree a compensation for the 
 absence of the ancient quantities. They, there- 
 fore, who argue that having no quantity, we have 
 no concern with rhythmical feet, prove only, as 
 Voltaire observed of La Mottc, when he denied 
 the reality of any poetic beauty, that they talk 
 about that which they do not understand. If our 
 verse consist only of so many syllables, indepen- 
 dent of syllabic feet, and if the order in which 
 those syllables fall be a matter of indifference, we 
 have in fact no verse whatever, but only a mea- 
 sii red prose. Because we have not what the an- 
 cients had, why deprive us of that which we have? 
 AVith such critics, Dr. Johnson's mock-metrical 
 line, 
 
 " Lay your knife and your fork across your plate," 
 
 will pass current as having all the requisites of le- 
 
PREFATORY LSSAY. c 27 
 
 gitimatc verse ; that is it has ten syllables. Tfcey 
 may be reminded in the language of Yida, though 
 in a different sense, 
 
 Haud satis est illis utcunique clauriere vcr^um.* 
 
 But it seems that any attention to syllabic 
 melody, any indication of respect for the prin- 
 ciples of rhythmical art and the laws of metre, 
 cannot possibly co-subsist with the spontaneous 
 energies of natural feeling. We learn, in the 
 words of Headley, that, it was not the practice 
 of our early poets to u cull words, vary pauses, 
 adjust accents, and diversify cadence." The early 
 poets, it may be supposed, took the English metre 
 as they found it. AY hat was not yet invented, 
 they could not adopt ; but there is no reason to 
 infer that they were careless about the structure 
 of their lines. The stanza of Spenser, probably, 
 will not be cited as a very remarkable instance of 
 their despising the minute artifices of versification. 
 But if a nice and attentive modulation of rhythm 
 be thought to detract from the dignity of the poet r 
 
 * TU not enough their verses to complete, 
 
 PlTT> 
 
2$ PREFATORY FSSAY. 
 
 what shall be said in defence of the following pas- 
 sage from Virgil ? — 
 
 Continuo ventis surgentibus, aut freta ponti 
 Incipiunt agitata tumescere, etaridus altis 
 Montibus audiri fragor ; aut resonantia longe 
 Litiora misceri, et nemorura increbrescere murmur.* 
 
 Virgil might here, not unreasonably, be sus- 
 pected of u culling his words, varying his pauses, 
 adjusting his accents, and diversifying his caden- 
 ces. " Certainly the minutest observation and the 
 most assiduous diligence could not have more 
 successfully contrived that the sound should be a 
 picture of the sense. Yet Virgil, probably, struck 
 out the passage in the heat of the moment, and 
 accomplished by means of a delicate ear and a 
 flexible fancy this miracle of the metrical art. 
 
 The critical cant about studied cadences and 
 elaborate pauses is, in fact, completely fanciful. 
 If the metre of Virgil How with the smoothest 
 modulation of art, that art was facility. Who- 
 ever composes in metre has formed to himself a 
 certain structure of style, which having once 
 
 * Slow rise the winds; the hearing surges dash 
 "VYork'd into foam ; ihe hollow mountains crash ; 
 Far shores re-echo to the beating floods, 
 And a low sound runs murmring through the woods. 
 
PKEFATOltY ESSAY. 
 
 formed, he has frequently practised, and which, 
 however carefully modelled after the rules of 
 science in its original construction, has become in 
 reality the natural vehicle of his thoughts. The^i^* 
 who make this stirabout the natural language-*)/^ 
 poetry, betray, in fact, the struggle of artificial » 
 negligence^ and exhibit a style of composition 
 visibly more studied and infinitely more unnatural 
 than the vigorous elasticity of Pope's numbers. 
 
 The charge against Pope, however, is not * - 
 merely that he is trirlingly elaborate, but that, his ^^ 
 elaboration is without effect ; that his metre is W W 
 monotonous ; that he is a bungler in his own art. 
 That his verses are bounded by the rhyme may be 
 admitted ; but that, in their interior mechanism, he 
 has shewn any deficiency of skill in adapting his 
 pause to the sense, or his cadence to the subject, 
 no one who attentively cousiders the specimens 
 which Lord Karnes has selected in his u Elements 
 of Criticism" can safely affirm. 
 
 It is said, however, that a school of polished 
 inanity has risen on the basis of Pope's versification, 
 and Cowper asserts that " Every whistler has his 
 tune by heart." But neither is Pope responsible 
 for the. flat and nerveless equability of numbers 
 adopted by his imitators, nor is Cowper correct 
 
30 PREFATORY ESSAY. 
 
 in supposing, that to imitate Pope is an easy task. 
 Pope, by the judicious intermixture of the Trochaic 
 with the Iambic cadence, and by a well regulated 
 use of the hemistick rest in the middle of the 
 verse, imparted an insensible rapidity and buoyancy 
 to his numbers, which his copyists, more indolent, 
 or less skilful, have failed to attain. I am aware 
 that this practice has been objected to Pope as a 
 part of what is called the monotony of his system: 
 but in fact it makes a part of his diversity. His 
 whole system of verse was constructed on the 
 principle of alternation and relief; a secret which 
 has escaped the greater number of succeeding 
 writers of couplets ; who have but one flow of 
 verse, which they prolong without variation. This 
 is the " tune of the whistler," but it is not learned 
 from Pope. If he be found superior to his imita- 
 tors in the structure of his harmony, I think he 
 will also be found superior to them in his fewness 
 of epithets, his brevity and perspicuity of lan- 
 guage, and his compression of thought. 
 
 That Cowper should pass judgment on Pope's 
 metre, is the more unfortunate, as his own ear was 
 remarkably obtuse ; and as more instances of 
 homely and prosaic verses may be selected from his 
 compositions, than from those of any contemporary 
 
PREFATORY ESSAY. 31 
 
 writer. Not that he disdained to stoop to melody, 
 but that melody was beyond his reach. It was not 
 the custom of Pope formally to apprise his reader 
 when he designed to be musical ; butCowper, in his 
 Homer, introduces two wretched attempts at imita- 
 tive harmony by the parade of a note. In the line 
 M Dread-sounding, bounding on the silver bow," 
 and in the notable dactylic which describes the 
 stone of Sisyphus, a Rush'd again obstinate down 
 to the ground,'' the reader would have perceived 
 his attempt, without the aid of a commentary, and 
 perceived that it had failed. They would, also, 
 have recollected that when in Pope, 
 
 Th' impetuous arrow whizzes on the wing, 
 
 this echo to the sense appears the effect of 
 accident. 
 
 But the charge of inanity, brought against 
 Pope, goes further than the mechanism of his 
 verse : it involves the very essence of his poetry; 
 and every sentimentalizing school-girl, who can 
 scribble in slip-shod measures about " Lady fair" 
 and " berry-brown steed, " thinks herself entitled 
 to declaim on the insipidity of Pope. Pope is, 
 indeed, the poet of men ; the painter of the man- 
 
32 PREFATORY ESSAY, 
 
 Tiers, the characters, and the passions of actual 
 human life ; the Lucilius* of a moderaage, who 
 strikes at vice arrd ignorance and corruption in 
 every shape: and like Cicero's orator, i " Tehe- 
 mens ut procella, excitatus ut torrens, incensus ut 
 fulmen, tonat, fulgur at, et rapidis eloquentise 
 fluctibus omnia proruit ac proturbat" But it is 
 for the first time discovered that* satire is no 
 
 * Cum est Lucilius ausus, &c. — Hor. Serm. 2*1, 62. 
 
 in his honest page 
 
 When good Lucilius lash'd a vicious age ; 
 From conscious villains tore the mask away, 
 And stripp'd them naked to the glare of day. 
 
 Dr. Fraxcis. 
 t " Strong as the tempest, rough as the torrent, fiery as 
 the bolt of heaven, he thunders, he lightens, and with the 
 rapid waves of his eloquence, overthrows and sweeps from 
 before him every thing that opposes." In his Horatian 
 imitations, nothing can occasionally exceed the delicate ease 
 of Pope; but he is more bitter as well as more lofty than 
 Horace. His genius should have led him to Juvenal. See 
 his character of Sporus* in the Epistle to Dr. Arbuthnot ; 
 where we actually feel the knife of the anatomist. See also 
 the grand and indignant burst of eloquence on high vice and 
 state corruption, in the first dialogue of his epilogue to the 
 satires. 
 
 £ " Satire and morality," says Headley, they carried te 
 
PKFFATORY ESSAT. 33 
 
 part of poetry ; and Persius and Juvenal must 
 4 hide their diminished heads.' 
 
 their perfection." As if these were necessarily distinct from 
 poetry. The travelled youth in the Dunciad, b. 4. v. 282- 
 322, is satire blended with poetical imagination. Morality is 
 combined with poetry in the scheme of universal benevolence. 
 Essay on Man. Epist. 4. v. 325: 
 
 Poetry is defined by Aristotle a mimetic or imitative art : 
 a definition which includes satire no less than the drama. 
 The name of poet has been denied to the author of Hudibras : 
 as well might it be refused to the author of Orlando Furioso. 
 Butler attains both the implied objects of poetry. He moves 
 the passions by the imitation of character and manners ; he 
 amuses the fancy by the pregnancy of his imagination. 
 
 But this absurd contra-distinctron' is borrowed from 
 Warton ; who in bis " Essay on Pope" advanced those spe- 
 cious poiitions which have been so nbly refuted by Ruffhead, 
 but which have given the tone to succeeding^ poetical critics, 
 and induced them to exclude Pope from the higher order'of 
 poets, and degrade him into a mere clear-headed, sensible, 
 didactic versifier. 
 
 The conclusion that because Boileau and Pope both 
 wrote satires and epistles, -and both imitated Horace, there- 
 fore they belong to the same order of poets, is a sort of' 
 sophistry that can impose* on no- single individual who has 
 the use of his eyes. Their works arein erery-one's hands. 
 How few kinds of poetry has Boileau attempted in compa- 
 rison with Pope? How little of comparative originality is 
 t\iere in Boileau ? how little of passion ? how little of fancy ? 
 
 D 
 
34 PREFATORY ESS-AY. 
 
 It is objected to him, that he wants imagery* 
 His didactic essays are condemned because they 
 are didactic essays ; his satires, because they are 
 satires; or if it be conceded that sense, not des- 
 cription, is the pith of satyrlcal and didactic 
 poetry, his pastorals are ransacked for proofs of 
 an insensibility to the forms of original nature ; 
 and we are told of " traditional imagery ;" of 
 C( verdant shades" and " purling streams." But 
 it is not in a juvenile cento of amabaean verses ; 
 the purple patchwork of a young versifier, fresh 
 
 The iAdrin is the only point of contact between them : and 
 Voltaire has allowed the superiority of the Rape of the Lock, 
 in ease, grace, and imagination : a decision which Laharpe, 
 with the narrow envy of an illiberal nationality, ascribes to 
 the civilities received by Voltaire at Pope's table. How far 
 Laharpe, a petulant, minute, and superficia lcritic, was quali- 
 fied to decide on Pope, will appear from his ignorant and inso- 
 lent attempt to resolve the manly taste of Englishmen for the 
 dramas of Shakspeare, into a compliance with the humours 
 of (he populace. After Johnson's acute and philosophical 
 defence of Shakspeare,* it is to he hoped that no future 
 Frenchman will render himself ridiculous by running round 
 the circle of his " unities," and shutting his eyes to the living 
 realization of human character. 
 
 * Preface to fc is edition of Shakspeare: printed also in Murpliy't 
 edition of Dr. Johnson's Works. Vol. li. 
 
PREFATORY ESSAY. 35 
 
 from the reading of classical eclogues, that des- 
 criptive excellence, or excellence of any kind, 
 beyond that of smooth metre, would naturally be 
 explored. The zealous advocates of Pope, who 
 have looked for striking description in such of 
 his pieces as are professedly descriptive, have 
 dreamed of beauties which they wished to find ; 
 and have been content to wonder at that art, 
 which could make alders tremble in the wind, and 
 sunbeams quiver on the water. Ruffhead, with 
 singular infelicity, has quoted some foolish lines 
 about " Naiads weeping in their watery bower," 
 and u Jove consenting in a shower," as an in- 
 stance of the picturesque. How that can be 
 picturesque which is made up of impalpable ab- 
 stractions, and conveys no sensible image, it 
 would be difficult to explain. 
 
 But the imagery of Eloisa, whether drawn from 
 natural scenery, from the cloyster, or the chapel, 
 may satisfy the most fastidious connoisseur. 
 
 Tlie darksome pines, that, o'er yon rock recliffd, 
 Wave high, and murmur to the hollow wind ; 
 
 have a peculiarity, a distinctness, a plaintive wild- 
 ness, not unworthy of Theocritus : 
 
 Tiie moss-grown dome?, with spiry turrets crowri'd, 
 
 n 2 
 
36 PREFATORY ESSAY. 
 
 are not wanting in picturesque effect ; and no 
 Terse in ancient or modern poetry will easily be 
 found more exquisite than that in which the inward 
 melancholy of the mind is said to " breathe a 
 browner horror on the woods." But where all is 
 passion and enthusiasm of sensibility, who can 
 patiently endure to pry into tints and shades; to 
 listen for the rustling of a leaf, or watch for the 
 waving of a daffodil ? 
 
 What Pope attempted he effected ; and has 
 given proofs that if more had been attempted 
 he would have effected more. As to general 
 imagery, or lively representations of sensible things, 
 his essays, and satires, and epistles, to use a happy 
 expression of Dr. Parr, are crowded with u ga- 
 laxies of imagery." that fling their light unex- 
 pectedly upon us, in every form of illustration 
 and similitude. Yet Headley could assert, that 
 u the prose of Young has more imagery than the 
 poetry of Pope. " 
 
 But passion is the native excellence of Pope; 
 a quality as superior to description, as spirit is to 
 matter. Q< His translation of Homer," says 
 Headley, u operated like an inundation in the 
 English republic of letters." It did so: and the 
 cause must be sought in the passion v^hich is sus- 
 
PREFATORY ESSAY. 37 
 
 tained throughout the poem. However inaccurate, 
 however paraphrastical, the ' thoughts breathe/ 
 and the ; words burn:' and the speeches, when- 
 ever passion is concerned, are poured out in rapid, 
 condensed, and pointed sentences of glowing elo- 
 quence, unclogged with epithets, and teeming with 
 character. Whether homeric or not, t\m poem of 
 Pope is warmed with original fire ; and the readers 
 who nod with cold approbation over the heavy, 
 blank interpretation of Cowpcr, hasten to refresh 
 their attention, and stimulate their feelings, by the 
 dignified and animated oratory of Pope's Achilles. 
 Yet all this, we are told, is the effect of a mere- 
 tricious c dazzle of diction/ and a c clock-work 
 construction of verse !' Surely some respect is 
 due to the public voice, and where the many are 
 pleased, it is, at least, possible, that the few may 
 be mistaken. 
 
 These remarks may be thought to occupy a 
 disproportionate space in an essay, ostensibly de- 
 voted to the merits of Habingtoiu But in re- 
 editing one of our earlier poets, I was anxious to 
 escape the imputation of that antiquarian bias, 
 which can see merit no where but in that which 
 is obsolete : and I was not sorry to embrace an 
 occasion of saying something in defence of a poet, 
 
38 PREFATORY ESSAY. 
 
 who, in his day, was reverenced by the learned, 
 and esteemed by the wise ; but whom it is now 
 the fashion to pity for the poverty of his genius. 
 
 Clifton, March, 1812. 
 
COMMENDATORY VERSES. 
 
 TO HIS BEST FRIEND AND KINSMAN 
 
 WILLIAM IIABINGTON, ESQUIRE. 
 
 JN ot in the silence of content, and store 
 
 Of private sweets, ought thy Muse charme no more 
 
 Than thy Castara's eare. 'Twere wrong such gold 
 
 Should not like mines, (poore nam'd to this) behold 
 
 Itselfe a publicke joy. Who her restraine, 
 
 ]\Iake a close prisoner of a soveraigne. 
 
 Inlarge her then to triumph. While we sec 
 
 Such worth in beauty, such desert in thee, 
 
 Such mutuall flames betweene you both, as show 
 
 How chastity, though yce, like love can glow, 
 
 Yet stand a virgin : how that full content 
 
 By vertue is to soules united lent, 
 
 Which proves all wealth is poore, all honours are 
 
 But empty titles, highest power but care, 
 
 That quits not cost. Yet Heaven, to vertue kind, 
 
 Hath given you plenty to suffice a minde 
 
 That knowes but temper. For beyond, your state 
 
 May be a prouder, not a happier fate. 
 
 I write not this in hope t' incroach on fame, 
 
 Or adde a greater lustre to your name, 
 
40 COMMENDATORY YERS1S. 
 
 Bright in itselfe enough. We two are knowne 
 To th' world, as to ourselves, to be but one, 
 In blood as study : and my carefuillove 
 Did never action worth my name approve 
 Which servM not thee. Nor did we ere contend, 
 But who should be best patterne of a friend. 
 Who read thee, praise thy fancie, and admire 
 Thee burning with so high and pure a fire, 
 As reaches Heaven it selfe. But I who know 
 Thy soule religious to her ends, where grow 
 No sinnes by art or custome, boldly can 
 Stile thee more than good poet, a good man. 
 Then let thy temples shake off vulgar bayes, 
 Th' hast built an altar which enshrines thy praise : 
 And to the faith of after-time commends 
 3Tee the best paire of lovers, us of friends. 
 
 George Talbot. 
 
 
THE AUTHOR. 
 
 The presse hath gathered into one, what fanciehad scatter^ 
 ed into many loose papers. To write this, love sto!e some 
 houres from business, and my'more serious study. For 
 though poetry may challenge, if not priority, yet equality, 
 with the best sciences, both for antiquity and worth . I never 
 set so high a rate upon it, as to give my selfe entirely up to 
 its devotion. It hath too much ayre, and (if without offence 
 to our next transmarine neighbour) wantons tco much ac- 
 cording to the French garbe. And when it is wholly im- 
 ployed in the soft straines of love, his soul who eniertaines it 
 loseth much of that strength which should confirme him man. 
 The nerves of judgment are weakened most by its dalliance ; 
 and when woman (I mene onely as she is externally fair) is 
 the supreme object of wit, we soon degenerate into effeminacy. 
 For the religion of fancie declines into a mad superstition, 
 when it adores that idoll which is not secure from age and 
 sicknesse. Of such heathens, our times afford us a pittyed 
 multitude, who can give no nobler testimony of twenty 
 yeares' imployment, than some loose coppies of lust happily 
 cxprest. Yet these the common people of wit blow up 
 •with their breath of praise, and honour with the sacred name 
 of poets : to which, as I believe, they can never have any just 
 olaime, so shall I not dare by this essay to lay any title, 
 
42 THE AUTHOR. 
 
 since more sweate and oylehe must spend, who shall arrogate 
 so excellent an attribute. Yet if the innocency of a chaste 
 Muse shall bee more acceptable, and weigh heavier in the 
 bailance of esteeme than a fame begot in adultery of study, 
 1 doubt [ shall leave them no hope of competition. For how 
 unhappie soever I maybe in the elocution, I am sure the 
 theame is worthy enough. In all those flames in which I burnt, 
 I never felt a wanton heate ; nor was my invention ever 
 sinister from the straite way of chastity, And when love 
 builds upon that rocke, it may safely contemne the batiery of 
 the waves and thfeatnings of the wind. Since time, that 
 makes a mockery of the firmest structures, shall it selfe be 
 ruinated, before that be demolisht. Thus was the foundation 
 layd. And though my eye, in its survey, was satisfied, even 
 to curiosity, 5^et did not my search rest there. The alabaster, 
 jvory, porphir, iet, that lent an admirable beauty to the out- 
 ward building, entertained me with but a halfe pleasure, since 
 they stood there onely to make sport for ruine. But when 
 my soule grew acquainted with the owner of that mansion; I 
 found that Oratory was dombe when it began to speak e her, 
 and wonder (which must necessarily seize the best at that 
 time) a letbargie, that dulled too much the faculties of the 
 minde, onely fit to busie themselves in discoursing her per- 
 fections : Wisdome I encounteied there, that could not 
 spend it selfe since it affected silence, attentive onely to 
 instructions, as if all her sences had been contracted into 
 hearing : Innocencie, so not vitiated by conversation with the 
 world, that the subtile witted of her sex would have tearm'd 
 it ignorance : wit, which seated it selfe most in the appre- 
 hension, and if not inforc't by good manners, would scarce 
 have gained the name of affability: Modesty, so timorous, 
 
THE AUTHOR. 4£ 
 
 that it represented a besieged citty, standing watchfully upon 
 ber guard, strongest in the loyalty to her prince. In a word, 
 all those vcrtucs which should restore woman to her primitive 
 state of beauty, fully adorned her. ttut I shall be censured, 
 in labouring to come nigh the truth, guilty of an indiscreet 
 rheroticke. However such I fancied her, for to say shee is, 
 or was such, were to play the merchant, and boast too much 
 the value of a iewell I possesse, but have no miude to part 
 with. And though I appeare to strive against the streame 
 of best wits, in tree ting the selfe same altar, both to chastity 
 and love ; { will for once adventure to doe well, without a 
 president. Nor if my rigid friend question superciliously the 
 setting forth of these poems, will I excuse my selfe (though 
 justly perhaps I might) that importunity prevailed, and clere 
 judgements advised. This onely I dare say, that if they are 
 not strangled with en vie of the present, they may happily 
 live in the not dislike of future times. For then partiality 
 ccaseth, and vertue is without the idolatry of her clients, es- 
 teemed worthy honour. Nothing new is free from detraction, 
 and when princes alter customes even heavie to the subject, 
 best ordinances are interpreted innovations. Had I slept in 
 the silence of my acquaintance, and affected no study beyond 
 that which the chase or lield allowes, poetry had then beene 
 no scandall upon me, and the love of learning no suspition 
 of ill husbandry. .But whit malice, begot in the country 
 upon ignorance, or in the city upon criticisme, shall prepare 
 against me, I am armed to endure. For as the face of vertue 
 lookes faire without the adultery of art, so fame needes no 
 ayde from rumour to strengthen her selfe. If these lines 
 want that courtship, ([ will not say flattery) which insinuates 
 it selfe into the favour of great men best ; they partake of 
 
44 THE AITTITOR. 
 
 my modesty : If satyre to win applause with the envious 
 multitude, they expresse my content ; which maliceth none 
 the fruition of that, they esteeme happie. And if not too 
 indulgent to what is my owne ; I think even these verses will 
 have that proportion in the world's opinion, that Heaven hath 
 allotted me in fortune ; not so high, as to be wondred at, nor 
 so- low as to be contemned, 
 
 
Castam. 
 
 RART. THE FIRST. 
 
 Carmina, non prius 
 Audita, Musarum sacerdos 
 VUrgiuibiis.. 
 
A MISTRESS. 
 
 Is the fairest treasure the avarice of Love can covet ; and 
 the onely white, at which he shootes his arrowes, nor while 
 his aime is noble, can he ever hit upon repentance. She is 
 chaste, for the devill enters the idoll and gives the oracle, 
 when wantonnesse possesseth beauty, and wit maintaines 
 it lawfull. She is as faire as Nature intended her, helpt 
 perhaps to a more pleasing grace by the sweetnesse of 
 education, not by the slight of art. She is young, for a 
 woman past the delicacie of her spring, may well move 
 by vertue to respect, never by beauty to affection. Shee 
 is iunocent even from the knowledge of sinne, for vice is 
 too strong to be wrastled with, and gives her frailty the 
 foyle. She is not proude, though the amorous youth in- 
 terpret her modesiie to that sence ; but in her vertue 
 weares so much maje>tie, lust dares not rebell, nor though 
 masqued, under the pretence of love, capitulate with her. 
 She entertaines not every parley offer d, although the 
 articles pretended to her advantage : advice and her owne 
 feares re>traine her, and woman never owed ruine to too 
 much caution. She glories not in the plurality of servants, 
 a multitude cf adorers Heaven can onely challenge; aid it 
 is impietie in her weaknesse to desire superstition from 
 many. She is denfe to the whispers of love, and even on 
 tne marriage home can breake off, without the least sus- 
 pition of scaiidall to the former liberty of her carriage. 
 
 
A MISTRESS. 47 
 
 She avoydes a too neere conversation with man, and like 
 the Parthian overcomes by flight. Her language is not 
 copious but apposit, and she had rather suffer the re- 
 proach of being dull company, than have the title of 
 witty, With that of bold and wanton. In her carriage she 
 is sober, and think.es her youth expresseth life enough, 
 without the giddy motion, fashion of late hath taken up. 
 She danceth to the best applause, but doates not on the 
 vanity of it, nor licenceth an irregular meeting to vaunt 
 the levity of her skill. Site sings, but not perpetually, 
 for she knowes, silence in a woman is the most perswading 
 oratory. She never arrived to so much familiarity with 
 man as to know the demunitive of his name, and call him 
 by it ; and she can shew a competent favour : without 
 yeelding her hand to his gripe. Shee never understood 
 the language of a ki>se, but at salutation, nor dares the 
 courtier use so much of his practised impudence as to otfer 
 the rape of it from her : because chastity hath write it 
 unlaw full, and her behaviour proclaimed it unwelcome. 
 She is never sad, and yet not jiggish ; her conscience is 
 cleerefrom guilt, and that secures her from sorrow. She 
 is not passionately in love with poetry, because it softens 
 the heart too much to love : but she likes the h?rmony in 
 the composition ; and the brave examples of vertue cele- 
 brated by it, she proposeth to her imitation. She is not 
 vaine in the history of her gay kindred or acquaintance : 
 since verlue is often tenant to a cottage, and familiarity 
 with greatnesse (if worth be not transcendent above the 
 title) is but a glorious servitude, fooles oncly are willing 
 to sulfer. She is not ambitious to be praised, and yet 
 
48 A MISTRESS-. 
 
 vallues death beneath infamy. And lie conclude, (though 
 the next sinod of ladies condemne this character as an 
 heresie broacht by a precision ) that onely she who hath 
 as great a share in vertue as in beauty, deserves a nobler 
 love to serve her, and a free poesie to speake her. 
 
part $itst. 
 
 TO CASTARA, 
 
 A SACRIFICE. 
 
 JLet the chaste phcenix, 1 from the fiowry East, 
 
 Bring the sweete treasure of her perfum'd nest, 
 
 As incense to this altar ; where the name 
 
 Of my Castara's grav'd by th' hand of Fame; 
 
 Let purer virgins, to redeeme the aire 
 
 From loose infection, bring their zealous prayer, 
 
 T' assist at this great feast : where they shall see, 
 
 What rites Love offers up to Chastity. 
 
 1 Let the chaste Phoenix. 
 This epithet designates the supposed faculty of the 
 Phoenix to regenerate itself. It is scarcely necessary to state, 
 that after some hundred years, five hundred according ta 
 
 £ 
 
50 CAST^RA, 
 
 Let all the amourous jouth, whose faire desire 
 Felt never warmth but from a noble fire, 
 
 JElian, the Phcenix formed itself a pyre of cinnamon and 
 
 other spices : 
 
 Et cumulum texens pretiosa. fronde Sabaenm, 
 Componit bustumque sibi, partumque futurum. 
 
 Claudian. Eidyil : 1. 
 
 "With precious heap of Saba's od'rous leaves 
 His present tomb and future cradle weaves. 
 
 The pile was enkindled by the sunbeams ; the old bird con- 
 sumed away, and a young one was instantly quickened in its 
 ashes. The supposition of the Phcenix bringing his nest to 
 the altar of Castara, by which Habington typifies the im- 
 mortality of his affection, alludes to the circumstance of this 
 fabulous bird journeying through the air after its regenera- 
 tion, and depositing the ashes of its former self on the altar 
 of the sun, in his temple at Heliopolis, in /Egypt. 
 
 Buth Herodotus aud Pliny the naturalist mention the 
 Phoenix: but in incredulous terms. Some suppose the Bird 
 of Paradise to be the original of this chimerical creation. 
 Brown in his "History of Vulgar Errors" considers it as 
 emblematical ; and says that ** To the ^Egyptians the Phcenix 
 was the hieroglyphic of ihe sun; and this was probably the 
 ground of the whole relation. ,, 
 
 Every thing respecting this " bird of ages" is a riddle. 
 A peculiar recommendation to the tawdry and afiecied poet 
 of the court of Honoiius ; and no less so to the imitators of 
 
TMTIT FIRST. 51 
 
 Bring hither their bright flames : which here shall 
 shine 
 
 As tapers fixt about Castara's shrine. 
 
 While I, the priest, my untam'd heart surprise. 
 And in this temple mak't her sacrifice. 
 
 Italian sonnets in the period of Charles. Accordingly we 
 find in Cowley in Carew, and in every port of that day, 
 that the Phcenix u a favorite topic of allusion. 
 
52 CASTARA, 
 
 TO CASTARA, 
 
 PRAYING. 
 
 I saw Castara pray, and from the side 
 A winged legion of bright angels Hie, 
 To catch her vowes, for feare her virgin prajer 
 Might chance to mingle with impurer aire* 
 To vulgar eyes, the sacred truth I write 
 May seeme a fanc-ie. But the eagle's sight 
 Of saints, and poets, miracles oft view, 
 Which to dull heretikes appeare untrue. 
 Faire zeale begets such wonders. O divine 
 And purest beauty ! let me thee enshrine 
 In my devoted soule, and from thy praise, 
 T' enrich my garland, pluck religious bayes. 
 
 Shine thou the starre by which my thoughts 
 shall move, 
 
 Best subject of my pen, queene of my love. 
 
I' ART FIRST. 
 
 ROSES IN THE BOSOxME OF CASTARA. 
 
 J EE blushing virgins happie are 
 In the chaste nunn'rj of her brests, 2 
 
 9 In the chaste nunnery of her brests. 
 This is a common figure with the poets of the time. 
 Herricke, speaking of roses in a lady's bosom, observes, not 
 with the most elegant choice of expression, 
 
 And snugging there they seem'd to lie 
 As in a flowery nunnery. 
 
 And Colonel Lovelace adopts the metaphor in some stanzas to 
 his Luca-ta, the beautiful Lucy Sacheverel; who, after- 
 wards, concluding him to have been killed in battle, married 
 another person. The lines are so simply graceful, that they 
 merit transcription ; independently of their being now- 
 curious, from the encreased rarity of the poems. 
 
 Tell me not sweet, I am unki'nde ; 
 
 That from the nunnerie 
 Of thy chaste breast and quiet ininde 
 
 To warre and armes I flic 
 
 True, a new mistresse now I chase, 
 The first foe in the field ; 
 
54 CASTAR&. 
 
 For hee'd prophane so chaste a faire. 
 Who ere should call them Cupid's nests. 
 
 Transplanted thus how bright yee grow/ 
 How rich a perfume doe yee yeeld ? 
 In some close garden, cowslips so 
 Are sweeter than i'the open field. 
 
 In those white cloysters live secure 
 From the rude blasts of wanton breathy 
 Each houre more innocent and pure, 
 Till you shall wither into death. 
 
 And with a stronger fairh embrace 
 A sword, a horse, a shield : 
 
 Yet this inconstaacy is sucli 
 
 As you too shall adore ; 
 I could not love thee, deare, so much 
 
 Lov'd I not Honour more. 
 
 3 Transplanted thus how bright ye grow. 
 Carew has the same thought ; " On a damask rose 
 sticking upon a lady's breast 1 ' — 
 
 Let scent and looks be sweet, and bless that hand 
 That did transplant thee to that sacred land ; 
 O happy thou, that in that garden rests, 
 That paradise between that lady's breasts. 
 
part rrusr. 
 
 Then that which living gave you roome, 
 Your glorious sepulcher shall be :* 
 
 * Your glorious sepulcher shall be, 
 Herrick lias adopted a similar fancy, M upon the rOMI 
 in Julia's bosome :" but without the sentimental elegance 
 of Ilabington. 
 
 Thrice happy roses ! so much grae'd to have 
 Within the bosom of my love your grave ; 
 Die when you will, your sepulchre is known, 
 Your grave her bosom is, the lawn the stone. 
 
 The cast of this ode reminds me of some pretty stanza* 
 by Bernard ; author of V Art d' Aimer. The reader will 
 pardon my presenting him with a translation only, as I have 
 mislaid the original. 
 
 NursM by the zephyr's balmy sigh*, 
 
 And cherish'd by the tears of morn ; 
 Oh Queen of flowers ! awake ! arise ! 
 
 Oh haste, delicious rose, be born ! 
 
 Unheeding wish ! no — yet awhile, 
 
 Be yet awhile thy dawn delay'd ; 
 Since the same hour, that sees thee smile 
 
 In orient bloom, shall see thee fade. 
 
 Themira thus, an opening flower, 
 
 Must withering droop at fate's decree; 
 
 Like her thou bloomst thy little hour, 
 And she alas must fade like thee. 
 
 Yet go, and on her bosom die ; 
 At once, blest rase ! thy throne and tomb;- 
 
56 CASTARA. 
 
 There wants no marble for a tombe, 
 1 "Whose brest hath marble beene to me. 
 
 While envious heaves ray secret sigh 
 To share with thee so sweet a doom. 
 
 Love shall thy graceful bent advise, 
 Thy blushing, trem'lous leaves reveal ; 
 
 Go, bright, yet hurtless, charm her eyes ; 
 Go deck her bosom, not conceal. 
 
 Should some bold hand invade thee there, 
 
 From Love's asylum rudely torn ; 
 Oh Rose ! a lover's vengeance bear ; 
 
 And let my rival feel thy thorn. 
 
 Charlotte Smith has given a version of this ode among 
 her sonnets and poems, but hag erroneously ascribed it to 
 the Cardinal Bernis. 
 
PART FIRST. 57 
 
 TO CASTARA, 
 
 A TOW. 
 
 JL>y those chaste lamps, which yeeld a silent light 
 To the cold vrnes of virgins ; by that night, 
 "Which guilty of no crime doth only Iicare 
 The yovves of recluse nuns, and th' an'thrit's 
 
 prayer ; 
 And by thy chaster sclfe ; my f rvent zeale, 
 Like mountaine yce, which the north winds con- 
 
 geale 
 To purest christall, feels no wanton fire : 
 But as the humble pilgrim, (whose desire 5 
 Blest in Christ's cottage view, by angels' hands 
 
 ■ whose desire 
 
 Blest in Christ's cottage view. 
 The allusion is to a Romish legend of the house of the 
 virgin being carried by angels through the air, from Naza- 
 reth to Loretto, at the time when the inhabitants of Galilee 
 apostatized to the Mahometan faith, liabington supposes 
 the dwelling to have been so transported from hethlehem, 
 *n the massacre of the Innocents: to which the epithet sad 
 
CASTAKA. 
 
 Transported from sad Bethlem,) wondring stands 
 At the great miracle ; so I at thee. 
 Whose beauty is the shrine of chastity. 
 
 Thus my bright Muse in a new orbe shall move. 
 And even teach religion how to lore. 
 
 refers. The chapel of the Lady of Loretto, in which the 
 pilgrim " wondering stand?," is called the " Santa Casa." 
 Of this aerial journey of "The holy house,'* the reader will 
 find an amusing account in "Letters from Italy by aa 
 Englishwoman; (Mrs. M. Miller) 1776,'' vol. 3. ; and in Dr. 
 lucre's " View oi Society and Manners in Italy," vol. 1. 
 
PART FIRSV. 50 
 
 TO CASTARA, 
 
 OF HIS BF.IXG IX LOVE. 
 
 VV here am I ? not in Heaven : for oh I feele G 
 The stone of Sisiphus, Ixion's wheelc; 
 And all those tortures, poets (by their wine 
 Made judges) laid on Tantalus, arc mine. 
 
 6 For oh I Ifcele 
 
 The stone of Sisyphus, 
 Perhaps suggested by Propertius : El. 19. lib. 2. 
 
 go now and sip 
 
 Tantaiean streams, that mock thy thirsty lip ; 
 Or toiling, the Sissphian rock behold, 
 With steep recoil from the whole mountain roll'd; 
 What as a lover's fate so hard can be, 
 Or what, if wise, so little wish-'d by thee ? 
 The comparison of the pleasures and pains of Love to 
 Heaven and Hell, on which Ilabington has so fancifully 
 refined, is pursued with classical elegance by Boncfonius, 
 Basium 15. 
 
 Donee pressius incubo labelfis, $*c. 
 While oh ! sweet girl ! with close caress 
 Thy pouting lips I lingering press ; 
 
60 
 
 CASTARA. 
 
 Nor yet am I in Hell : for still I stand. 
 Though giddy in my passion, on firme land. 
 And still behold the seasons of the yeare, 
 Springs in my hope, and winters in my feare. 
 And sure I'm 'hove the Earth, for th J highest star 
 Shoots beames, but dim, to what Castara's are ; 
 And in her sight and favour I even shine 
 In a bright orbe beyond the christalline. 7 
 
 "Wh^le deep T draw, with every kiss, 
 Thy soul's perfume in fragrant bliss ; 
 I seem a God ; or if more high 
 Or blest there be, so blest am I. 
 
 But when you tear yourself away, 
 Then I, who seem'd in heaven to stray ; 
 Or where still higher joys abound, 
 If higher than in heaven be found ; 
 Am sudden snatch'd to iealms of wo, 
 And tread the gloomy shades below ; 
 If there be regions of despair 
 More dark, more deep, I wander there. 
 
 7 Beyond the ckristaltine. 
 The Ptolemaic astronomy supposed the following ascenti 
 or gradations : — l.The planetary system : — 2. The firmament 
 or sphere of the fixed stars : — 3. The crystalline sphere, or 
 clear heaven ; to which was ascribed a trepidation, or libra- 
 tion ; producing certain irregular motions in the stars : — 
 
TART FIRST. '/I 
 
 If then, Castara, I in Ueaven nor move, 
 
 Nor Earth, nor Hell ; where am I but in lore? 
 
 4. The primum mobile, or first mover; which communicated 
 motion to tlie lower spheres; — and 5. The empyrean, or 
 heaven of heavens. Milton describes this system — 
 
 They pass the planets seven, and pa>s the fiv'd, 
 And that crystalline sphere whose balance weighs 
 The trepidation talk'd, and that fiiat mov'd. 
 
 Par. Lost. 3-481. 
 
 And Tasso in the descent of the arch-angel Michael. 
 
 Passa il foco, e la luce, $"r.— Cai t. ix. st. 60. 
 He pass'd the light, and shining tire, assigned 
 The glorious seal of bis selected crew ; 
 The mover first, and circle crystalline ; 
 The firmament where fixed stars all shine. 
 
 Fairfax. 
 
 The substance of this note is collected from Newton** 
 notes on Paradise Lost. 
 
62 CAST AHA. 
 
 TO MY HONOURED FRIEND 
 
 MR, E. P.« 
 
 IS ot still V th"' shine of kings. Thou dost retire 
 Sometime to th' holy shade, where the chaste quire 
 
 SEndymion Porter. 
 He was groom of the king's bedchamber, and colonel of 
 the 5th regiment of foot under the Earl of Newcastle. 
 Granger speaks of him as a person ** whose excellent natural 
 parts were adorned by arts, languages, and travel. Re was 
 much in favor with James I. and his son Charles. He 
 was a man of great generositj', wit, and spirit ; and had a 
 ^general acquaintance among such as were of that character. 
 He respected learned men in general, but loved poets ; and 
 had himself a refined taste for poetry. He attended Charles, 
 when Prince of Wales, into Spain : and was afterwards em- 
 ployed by him in several negociations abroad. He was very 
 active in secret services for the king in the civil war, and 
 was no less dexterous in conveying his intelligence. He was 
 so obnoxious to the parliament, that he was one of those 
 who were always excepted from indemnity. He died 
 abroad in the court of Charles II?' 
 
 The name of Endymion Porter is mentioned, also, by 
 Herrick, in terms of familiar friendship; though of tH* 
 
VMIT IIRST. 65 
 
 Of Muses doth the stubbome panther av, e, 
 And give the wildncsse of his nature law. 
 The wind his chariot stops: th' attentive rockc 
 The rigor dotli of its creation mocke, 
 And gently melts away : Argus, to heare 
 The musicke, turtles each eye into an care. 
 To welcome thee, Endymion, glorious they 
 Triumph to force these creatures disobey 
 What nature hath enacted. But no charme, 
 The Muses have, these monsters can disanne 
 Of their innated rage: no spell can tame 
 The North-wind's fury, but Castara's name. 
 Climbe yonder forked hill,* and see if there, 
 I' rh' barke of every Daphne, not appeare 
 
 man and his peculiar habits, we cannot expect to learn 
 much, from an Eclogue, in which Ave are told, that 
 
 Jessamine with Florabeil 
 
 And dainty Amaryllis ; 
 With handsome- banded Drosomel 
 
 Shall prank thy hock with lillies: 
 
 We learn only that he is fond of " the courtly state," and 
 that he 4 ' vows to come away'" and 4i pipe to the sor.g" of 
 Lycidas Her rick. This was the poetic cant of the day ; and 
 if Charles I. himself had stood in need of the M vale sacra," 
 he must have consented to hold a crook, and to bleat non- 
 -sense. 
 
 • Parnassus. 
 
64 CASTARA. 
 
 Castara written : and so markt by me, 
 How great a prophet growes each virgin tree! 
 Lie down, and listen what the sacred spring 
 In her harmonious murtnures strives to sing 
 To th' neighb'ring banke. ere her loose waters crre 
 Through common channels ; sings she not of her ? 
 Behold yond' violet, which such honour gaines, 
 That growing but to emulate her veines, 
 It's azured like the skie : when she doth bow 
 T* invoke Castara, Heav'n perfumes her vow. 
 The trees, the water, and the flowers 9 adore 
 The deity of her sex, and through each pore 
 Breath forth her glories* But unquiet Love! 
 To make thy passions so uncourtly prove. 
 As if all eares should heare her praise alone : 
 Now listen thou • Endymion sings his owne* 
 
 9 The trees, the water, and the flowers. 
 This is a happy imitation of Petrarch ; mingling, in the 
 usual style of that poet, metaphysical abstractions with rurai 
 imagery. 
 
part fifut: Ci 
 
 TO CASTARA. 
 
 Uoe not their prophane orgies heare, 
 
 Who but to wealth no altars reare: 
 
 The soulc's oft poys'ncd through the care. 
 
 Castara, rather seeke to dwell 
 l'th' silence of a private cell ; 
 Rich discontent's a glorious Hell. 
 
 Yet Hindlip doth not want extent 
 Of roome (though not magnificent) 
 To give free welcome to content. 
 
 There shalt thou see the earely Spring 
 That wealthy stocke of Nature bring, 
 Of which the Sybils bookes did sing. 10 
 
 10 Of which the Sybil's bookes did sing, 
 Lactantius was of opinion, (Instit. vii. 24.) that Virgil, in 
 his 4th Eclogue, had ingeniously transferred certain Sybil- 
 line prophecies, respecting the coming of Christ, to the birth 
 F 
 
66 CASTARA* 
 
 
 From fruitlesse palmes shall honey flow, 
 And barren Winter harvest show, 
 While lillics in his bosome grow. 
 
 No North winde shall the come infest, 
 
 But the soft spirit of the East 
 
 Our sent with perfum'd banquets feast. 
 
 of the son of Pollio. Heyne peremptorily rejects the sup- 
 position, and contends that Virgil employed only the trite, 
 traditionary images of a golden age : but the opinion has 
 been maintained by men of eminent genius and learning ; by 
 Chandler, Whiston, and Cudworth. The same hypothesis 
 is considered and supported in the tenth volume of the 
 Asiatic Researches. 
 
 In fact it does not rest on the mere internal evidence of 
 Virgil's eclogue, but is grounded on the collateral circum- 
 stance, that the prophetical records of other nations, besides 
 the Jewish, and particularly those of the East, pointed con- 
 sentaneously to a renovation of the world, and the appear- 
 ance of some extraordinary person, about the era of the birth 
 of Jesus. If the Svbilline books contained a similar 
 prediction, it seems probable that Virgil alludes to them by 
 the expression of " Cumean song," and not to the poetry of 
 Ilesiod, as some critics have conceived. Indeed, on the 
 true interpretation of these words, the whole question 
 depends. 
 
 Cumberland has devoted a paper to the authenticity of 
 the Sybilline verses, in his Observer, vol. 2. No. 36. A com- 
 pendious account of the Sybils may be found in Hoffman* 
 
?ART FIRST. 67 
 
 A Satyrc here and there shall trip, 
 In hope to purchase leave to sip 
 Sweete nectar from a Fairie's lip. 
 
 The Nymphs with quivers shall adorne 
 Their active sides, and rouse the morne 
 With the shrill musicke of their home, 
 
 "Wakened with which, and viewing thee> 
 Faire Daphne her fairc selfe shall free, 
 From the chaste prison of a tree : 
 
 And with Narcissus (to thy face 
 Who humbly will ascribe all grace) 
 Shall once againe pursue the chase. 
 
 So they, whose wisdome did discusse 
 Of these as fictions, shall in us 
 Finde, they were more than fabulous. 
 
 r L l 
 
68 CASTARA. 
 
 TO CASTARA, 
 
 SOFTLY SINGING TO HER SELFE. 
 
 Oing forth, sweete cherubin, (for we have choice 
 Of reasons, in thy beauty and thy voyce, 
 To name thee so, and scarce appeare propnane) 
 Sing forth, that while the orbs ceJestiall straine 
 To eccho thy sweete note, our humane eares 
 May then receive the musicke of the spheares. 11 
 
 11 The musicke of the spheares* 
 This imaginary music is borrowed from the doctrine of 
 Plato ; which is thus explained by Maclaurin. " If we 
 should suppose musical chords extended from the sun to each 
 planet : that all these chords might become unison, it would 
 be requisite to increase or diminish their tensions in the same 
 proportions, as would be sufficient to render the gravities of 
 the planets equal ; and from the similitude of their propor- 
 tions, the celebrated doctrine of the harmony of the spheres 
 is supposed to be derived." 
 
 Spence describes an antique gem in Baron Stosche's col- 
 lection at Florence, on the outer round of which are the 
 seven planets in chariots; Saturn drawn by serpents ; Jupiter 
 
PART FIRST. 69 
 
 But yet take hcede, lest if the swans of Thames, 12 
 That adde harmonious pleasure to the streames, 
 
 by eagles, &c. and in the centre is a person playing on two 
 pipes ; elegantly emblematical of the planetary harmony. 
 
 12 The swans of Thames, 
 
 That the Swans of the Thames have this peculiar musical 
 faculty, was affirmed by Aldrovandus of Bologna, in his 
 Ornithology, 3 vol. fol. 1599. Brown remarks, that when 
 we consider " the indisposition of the organs, and the im- 
 musical note of all we ever beheld or heard of, surely he 
 that is bit with a Tarantula shall never be cured by this 
 music." Hist, of Vulgar Errors. 
 
 A French writer, however, the Chevalier de Jaucourt, 
 lightly overleaps the difficulty of organic conformation, 
 and takes the trouble to account for this melody, which he 
 assumes as uncontroverted, by the following satisfactory 
 solution. " The swan, whose sweet song is so celebrated 
 by the poets, does not produce the sounds by his voice; 
 which is very coarse and disagreeable ; but by his wings ; 
 which being raised and extended when he sings, are played 
 upon by the w inds, like an AZolian harp: 1 Encyclopedic 
 Art. voix. 
 
 The reason why this melody is ascribed, in particular, 
 to the dying swan, may, possibly, be accounted for b. a 
 confused association of the death of Orpheus ; who is sup- 
 posed by Plato, on the principle of the Pythagorean 
 metempsichosis, to have transmigrated into the body of a 
 swan. But the original idea of this transmigration must 
 apparently have been built on the imaginary musical pro- 
 perty of the bird; and the primitive cause of that opinion 
 
70 CASTARA. 
 
 OW sudden heare thy well-divided breath, 
 Should listen, and in silence welcome death : 
 And ravisht nightingales, striving too high 
 To reach thee, in the emulation dye. 13 
 
 is still to be sought. We do not ascend much higher on the 
 ladder of discovery, when we find that the swan was the 
 bird of Apollo, the God of music, among the Greeks, and a 
 hieroglyphic of music among the Egyptians. 
 
 13 And ravisht Nightingales 
 In emulation die, 
 Strada, in his " Academical Prolusions," where he in- 
 troduces a kind of masquerade of the different Roman poets, 
 exemplifies the manner of Claudian by the description of a 
 contest between a nightingale and a lutanist. But Habington, 
 not improbably, took his allusion from Ford's imitation of 
 Strada. " The Lover's Melancholy," in which it occurs, 
 was published in 1629. 
 
 A nightingale, 
 Nature's best-skilled musician, undertakes 
 The challenge ; and for every several strain 
 The well-shap'd youth could teach, she sung her own. 
 He could not run division with more art 
 Upon his quaking instrument, than she, 
 The nightingale, did with her various notes 
 Reply to. 
 
 Some time thus spent, the young man grew at last 
 Into a pretty anger, that a bird 
 Whom art had never taught cliffs, moods, or notes, 
 
fART FIRST. 71 
 
 And thus there will be left no bird to sing 
 Farewell to th' waters, welcome to the spring. 
 
 Should vye with him for mastery, whose study 
 
 Had busied many hours to perfect practice. 
 
 To end the controversy, in a rapture, 
 
 Upon his instrument he plays so swiftly 
 
 So many voluntaries, and so quick, 
 
 That there was curiosity and cunning, 
 
 Concord in discord; lines of diflf'ring method 
 
 Meeting in one full centre of delight. 
 The bird, ordain'd to be 
 
 Music's first martyr, strove to imitate 
 
 These several sounds ; which when her warbling throat 
 
 Fail'd in, for grief down dropt she on his lute, 
 
 And brake her heart, 
 llerrick instances as one of the dainties of Oberoif* 
 feast, 
 
 The broke heart of a nightingale 
 Oercome in music : 
 probably derived from the same source. 
 
 " With respect to the boasted influence of music upon 
 animals," observes Dr. Burney, " though not only antiquity, 
 but several eminent and philosophical modern writers seem 
 to have entertained no doubt of it, yet the articles of my 
 creed on this subject, are but very few. Even birds, so 
 fond of their own music, are no more charmed or inspired 
 by ours, than by the most dissonant noise. For I have long 
 observed, that the sound of a Toice or instrument of the 
 most exquisite kind, has no other effect upon a bird in a 
 
72 CASTARA, 
 
 cage, than to make him almost burst himself in envioui 
 efforts to surpass it in loudness : and that the stroke of a 
 hammer upon the wainscot or a fire-shovel, excites the same 
 rival spirit. A singing bird is as unwilling to listen to others, 
 as a loquacious disputant. n 
 
 History of Music. 189-1. 
 
PART FIRST. 73 
 
 TO A WANTON. 
 
 In vaine, faire sorceresse, thy eyes speake charmes, 
 In vaine thou mak'st loose circles with thy armes; 
 I'me 'bove thy spels. No magicke him can more, 
 In whome Castarahath inspir'd her love. 
 As she, keepe thou strict cent'nell o're thy eare, 
 Lest it the whispers of soft courtiers heare ; 
 Reade not his raptures, whose invention must 
 Write journey worke, u both for his patron's lust 
 And his own plush : let no admirer feast 
 His eye o'th' naked banquet of thy brest. 
 If this faire president, nor jet my want 
 Of love to answer thine, make thee recant 
 
 14 Write journey work. 
 Journte work ; day-work for hire : — plush is put for any 
 •loth — " whose invention must be task'd to procure clothes 
 for hii back." 
 
74 CASTARA. 
 
 Thy sorc'ries ; pity shall to justice turne, 
 
 And judge thee, witch ! in thy own flames to burne. 15 
 
 15 In thy own flames to burne* 
 Allusive to the supposed sympathetic influence exerted by 
 witches through the means of fire : as instanced by the 
 faggot in Ovid, on which depends the life of Meleager ; or 
 more appropriately in the laurel-bough and the wax, which 
 the girl in Theocritus employs to consume her lover. 
 
 AiQco Eidyl. 2. 23. 
 
 fls TSTov Toy ycxpov eyw cvv oxi[jlgvi T«Ka/.-^2S» 
 
 My tortur'd bosom rues the perjur'd vow : 
 
 But, in revenge, I give this laurel bough, 
 
 The type of Delphis, to the crackling fires; 
 
 That as the spirit of his life expires, 
 
 Oer his scorch'd frame, like these, may flashes haste f 
 
 Thus his flesh tremble ; thus a cinder waste. 
 
 POLWHELE. 
 
 Evn as this wax evaporates in fume, 
 
 May Myndian Delphis, scorch'd by Love, consume. 
 
 Id. 
 
 which Virgil has imitated in his eighth eclogue ; it is sin- 
 gular that we have here an example of Leonine rhyme. 
 
 Limus ut hie durescity et heec ut cera liquescit 
 Uno eodemque igni, sic nostro Daphnis amore. 
 
 As fire this figure hardens, forra'd of clay, 
 And this of wax in fire consumes away > 
 
PART FIRST. 75 
 
 Such let the soul of cruel Daphnis be, 
 Hard to the rest of women ; soft to me. 
 
 Drtoen. 
 
 M The opinion was not less prevalent in this country 
 in the reigns of Elizabeth and Jame?. Dr. Martyn observes, 
 that in the beginning of the last century many persons were 
 convicted of this practice; and were executed accordingly,. 
 as it was deemed to be attempting the lives of others. The 
 burning in effigy is often accompanied with the like ma- 
 lignity." 
 
 Polwhele.— Notes on Theocritus. 
 
76 CASTARA, 
 
 TO 
 
 THE HONOURABLE MY MUCH HONOURED FRIEND 
 
 R. B. ESQUIRE, 
 
 1? hile you dare trust the loudest tongue of fame. 
 The zeale you beare your mistresse to proclaim 
 k To th' talking world : I, in the silenst grove, 
 | Scarce to my selfe dare whisper that I love. 
 Thee titles, Brud'nell, 15 riches thee adorne, 
 And vigorous youth, to vice not headlong borne 
 
 15 Thee titles, Brudenell, $c. 
 Robert Brudenell, afterwards second earl of Cardigan ; 
 a man who lived to the great age of 96, being bom March 
 5, 1607, and did not die till July 16, 1703. He had the 
 misfortune to be father to the infamous Countess of Shrews- 
 bury, (widow of George Talbot's younger brother, Earl 
 Francis) who held the Duke of Buckingham's horse in the 
 disguise of a page, when he fought and killed her husband. 
 Her sister, the Countess of Westmoreland, died in 1739, at 
 the age of 91. — Censura Litteraria, vol. x. p. 195. 
 
PART FIU8T. 77 
 
 By th' tide of customc : which I yalue more 
 
 Than what blind superstitious fooles adore, 
 
 Who greatnessein the chairc of blissc enthrone: 
 
 Greatnesse we borrow, vertue is our owne. 
 
 In thy attempt be prosperous ; and when ere 
 
 Thou shalt prefix thehoure, may Hymen wcare 
 
 His brightest robe- where somefam'd Persian shall 16 
 
 Worke by the wonder of her needle all 
 
 The nuptiall joyes; which (if we poets be 
 
 True prophets) bounteous Heaven designcs for thee, 
 
 I envie not, but glory in thy fate ; 
 
 While in the narrow limits of my state 
 
 I bound my hopes ; which if Castara daigne 
 
 Once to entitle hers, the wealthiest grainc 
 
 My earth, untild, shall beare ; my trees shall grone 
 
 Under their fruitfull burthen ; and at one 
 
 And the same season, Nature forth shall bring 
 
 Riches of Autumne, pleasures of the Spring. 
 
 16 Some farnd Persian. 
 Sir John Chardin, in his " Travels into Persia and the 
 East Indies, through the Black Sea and the Country of 
 Colchis," speaks of the Persians, in the 17th Century, as 
 excelling the rest of the world in the richness of their tissues ; 
 and as celebrated for their silks, velvets, and cloths, worked 
 with flowers and foliage in silk, gold, and silver. 
 
78 CASTARA. 
 
 But digge and thou shalt finde a purer mine 17 
 Thanth' Indians boast : taste of this generous vine, 
 And her blood sweeter will than nectar prove ; 
 Such miracles wait on a noble love. 
 But should she scorn my suite, I'le tread that path 
 Which none but some sad Fairy beaten hath, 18 
 
 17 A purer mine than £ti Indians boast. 
 The diamond mines of Golconda, as most known, were 
 probably in the poet's view : Rennel mentions that of 
 Raolconda as equally famous : and there are several not 
 less noted. Hindostan produces, also, the sapphire and the 
 ruby : gold is found only in the rivers. See Pinkerton's 
 Geography, vol. 2. p. 357. 
 
 18 Some sad fairy beaten hath. 
 Sad is here used in the sense of unlucky : causing disaster, 
 a sense not unusual with our old writers. There seems an 
 ailusion to the fairy-rings or circles of dark green grass ; 
 supposed to be caused by electricity ; but by the vulgar 
 ascribed to the fairies, 
 
 This superstition is a favorite theme with the early poets. 
 Browne in his Britannia's Pastorals describes the spot 
 
 Where fairies often did their measures treade. — B. 1. 
 Shakspeare abounds with it, and is fond of particularizing 
 the minuter circumstances — 
 
 You demi-puppets that, 
 
 By moonshine, do the green sour ringlets make 
 
 Whereof the ewe not bites. 
 
 Tempest. Act. 5. Sc. 1. 
 Habington appears to touch on some traditionary notion, 
 
PART FIRST. 79 
 
 Then force wrong'd Philomel, 19 hearing my mone, 
 To sigh my greater griefes, forget her ovvne. 
 
 that in tliese dances a good and evil fairy alternately took 
 the lead ; and that whatever mortal afterwards set his foot 
 within thp grassy circle, was happy or unfortunate accord- 
 ingly. He, therefore, imagines himself to tread in the path 
 which has been beaten by the ill-omened fairy. 
 
 13 IVrong'd Philomel, 
 The general practice of poets has perpetuated this 
 classical error of the voice of the nightingale. The classic 
 poets took their association, probably, from the tragic fable 
 of Philomela : yet it might be supposed that the fable 
 itself was only a consequence of this supposed melancholy 
 music in the bird. In fact there is but one note in the 
 whole compass of the nightingale's melody that can be called 
 plaintive. Mr. Coleridge has vindicated the sprightliness 
 of her tones in a poem, rich in Miltonic harmony, and in 
 the sensible imagery of nature. See his "Nightingale" in 
 <c Wordsworth's Lyrical Ballads." 
 
 Mr. Coleridge seems to have had in view the following 
 passage of Sylvester's Du Bartas. 
 
 Good Lord ! how oft, in a green oaken grove, 
 
 In the cool shadow have I stood, and strove 
 
 To marry mine immortall layes to theirs, 
 
 Rapt with delight of their delicious aiers ! 
 
 And yet, mcthinks, in a thick thorn I hear 
 
 A nightingale to warble sweetly clear. 
 
 One while she bears the base ; anon the tenor ; 
 
 Anon the trebble; then the counter-tenor; 
 
80 CASTARA. 
 
 Then all at once, as it were, challenging 
 
 The rarest voices with herself to sing. 
 
 Thence thirty steps, amid the leafie sprayes 
 
 Another nightingale repeats her layes, 
 
 Just note for note ; and adds some strain at last 
 
 Which she has conned all the winter past. 
 
 The first replyes, and descants thereupon 
 
 "With divine warbles of division, 
 
 Redoubling quavers; and so, turn by turn, 
 
 Alternately they sing away the morn. 
 
 Divine Weekes. 6th Day. 
 It is, also, probable that a passage in Walton's Complete 
 Angler glanced through the writer's mind. " He, that at 
 midnight should hear, as I often have done, the sweet des- 
 cants, the natural rising and falling, the doubling and re- 
 doubling, of the nightingale's voice, might well be lifted 
 above the earth." Neither of these just and vivid des- 
 criptions conveys the impression of moaning and sorrowful 
 sounds. Ci The one low piping sound more sweet than all," 
 as Mr. Coleridge expresses it, is the only tone that can be 
 so interpreted, and this is more nearly allied to tenderness 
 than sorrow. 
 
 
PART FIR3T. gl 
 
 TO CASTARA, 
 
 INQUIRING WHY 1 LOVED HER. 
 
 Why doth the stubborne iron- prove 
 So gentle to th' magnetique stone ? 
 
 20 Why doth the stubborn iron. 
 This interrogator* may possibly have been suggested by 
 some pretty lines of Clauclian : to which it is not easy to 
 render justice in a translation :. 
 
 Quis calor infundit geminis alterna metallis 
 Faedera ? qua; duras jiingit concordia mentes ? 
 Flagrat anhela silex, et amicam saucia sentit 
 Materiem, placidos que chalybs agnoscit amores. 
 
 Magnes. Eidyll. 5. 40. 
 
 What heat infus'd the mutual metals binds, 
 And blends in concord these obdurate miuds ? 
 With kindling warmth the flinty substance glows, 
 In secret pants its breathing fervor flows ; 
 From the keen touch a wounding softness proves, 
 And the bland steel relents in conscious loves. 
 
82 CASTARA. 
 
 How know you that the orbs doe move; 
 With musicke too ? since heard of none ? 
 And I will answer why I love. 
 
 5 Tis not thy vertues, 21 each a starre 
 Which in thy soules bright spheare doe shine^ 
 Shooting their beauties from a farre, 
 To make each gazer's heart like thine ; 
 Our vertues often meteors are. 
 
 21 Tis not thy virtues. 
 This favorite figure of seemingly undervaluing the charms 
 or virtues of a mistress, for the purpose of enhancing some 
 particular quality, or giving point to some delicate, senti- 
 mental compliment, seems to have originated in Propertius : 
 L 2. El. 3. 
 
 Nee me tarn facies, quamvis sit Candida, cepit ; &c. 
 
 Twas not thy face that caught my dazzled sight, 
 
 Though less transparent is the lilly's white; 
 
 As Ebro's red contrasts with Scythian snows, 
 
 Or in pure milk as floats the scatter" d rose ; 
 
 Twas not the locks that shade thy neck with art, 
 
 Nor yet those eyes, the load-stars of my heart ; 
 
 Twas not that through the vesture's silken flow 
 
 The nymph's fine limbs with gleaming motion glow ; &c 
 
 
 Carew has an ode to a similar effect ; not uniformly dis- 
 
part first; 83 
 
 ? Tis not thy face ; I cannot spie, 
 When poets weepe some virgin's death, 
 That Cupid wantons in her eye, 
 Or perfumes vapour from her breath ; 
 And 'mongst the dead thou once must lie. 
 
 Nor is't thy birth ; For I was ne're 
 
 So vaine as in that to delight : 
 
 Which, ballance it, no weight doth bearc, 
 
 Nor yet is object to the sight, 
 
 But onely fils the vulgar eare. 
 
 tinguished by its delicacy, but containing much of elegant 
 and animated poetry : 
 
 I do not love thee for those soft 
 Red coral lips I've kiss'd so oft ; 
 Nor teeth of pearl, the double guard 
 To speech, whence music still is heard ; 
 Though from those lips a kiss being takes 
 Might tyrants melt and death awaken : 
 
 I do not love thee, oil my fairest, 
 For that richest, for that rarest 
 Silver pillar, which stands under 
 Thy sound head, that globe of wonder; 
 Though that neck be whiter far 
 Then towers of polish'd ivory are. 
 
 G 3 
 
84 CASTARA. 
 
 Nor yet thy fortunes : since I know 
 They, in their motion like the sea, 
 Ebbe from the good ? to the impious flow : 
 And so in flattery betray. 
 That raising they but overthrow. 
 
 And yet these attributes might prove 
 Faell enough t'enflarae desire ; 
 But there was something from above 
 Shot without reason's guide this fire : 
 I know, yet know not^ why I love. 
 
PART FIRST. 85 
 
 TO CASTARA, 
 
 LOOKING UPON HIM. 
 
 1 ransfix me with that flaming dart 5 
 I'th' eye, or brest, or any part, 
 So thou, Castara, spare my heart. 
 
 The cold Cymerian, by that bright 
 Warme wound, i'th' darknesse of his night, 
 Might both recover heat, and light. 
 
 The rugged Scythian gently move, 
 I'th' whispering shadow of some grove, 
 That's consecrate to sportive love, 
 
 December see the primrose grow, 
 The rivers in soft murmurs flow, 
 And from his head shake oit his snow. 
 
86 
 
 CASTARA. 
 
 And crooked age might feele againe 
 
 Those heates, of which youth did complaine, 
 
 While fresh blood swels each withered Yeyne* 
 
 For the bright lustre of thy eyes, 
 Which but to warme them would suffice. 
 May burne me to a sacrifice. 
 
PART FIRST. 87 
 
 THE RIGHT HONOURABLE 
 
 THE COUNTESSE OF AR. 5 * 
 
 YY ing'd with delight, (yet such as still doth beare 
 Chast virtue's stamp) those children of the yeere, 
 The dayes, hast nimbly ; and while as they flie, 
 Each of them with their predecessors vie, 
 Which yeelds most pleasure ; you to them dispence ? 
 What Time lost with his cradle, innocence. 
 So I (if fancie not delude my sight,) 
 See often the pale monarch of the night, 
 Diana, 'mong her nymphs. For every quire 
 Of vulgar starres, who lend their weaker fire 
 To conquer the night's chilnesse, with their queene 
 In harmelesse revels tread the happy greene. 
 
 23 The Countess of Ar. 
 Margaret, daughter of William Douglas, Earl of Mortou ? 
 wife of Archibald, eighth Earl of Argyle. 
 
 Censura Litteraria. x, 196, 
 
€£ CASTARA^ 
 
 But I, who am proscribed by tyrant Love, 
 Seeke out a silent exile in some grove, 
 Where nought, except a solitary spring, 
 Was ever heard, to which the Nimphs did sing 
 Narcissus' obsequies : For onely there 
 Is musique apt to catch an am 'to us eare : 
 Castara ! oh my heart ! how great a flame 
 Did even shoot into me with her name ? 
 Castara hath betray'd me to a zeale 
 Which thus distracts my hopes. Flints may conceale 
 In their cold veynes a fire. But I, whose heart 
 By love's dissolv'd, ne're practis'd that cold art. 
 But truce thou warring passion! for Pie now, 
 Madam, to youaddresse this solemne vow. 
 By virtue and your selfe (best friends) I finde 
 In the interiour province of your minde 
 Such government, that if great men obey 
 Th' example of your order, they will sway 
 Without reproofe; for only you unite 
 Honour with sweetnesse, vertuewith deligh.L 
 
TART FIRST. 89 
 
 VPON CASTARA's 
 
 EROWNE OR SMILE. 
 
 .Learned shade of Tycho Brache, who to us 
 The stars prophetickc language didst impart, 
 And even in life- 3 their mysteries discusser 
 Castara hath o'crthrowne thy strongest art. 
 
 "When custome struggles from her beaten path, 
 Then accidents must needs uncertaine be : 
 For if Castara smile, though winter hath 
 Lock't up the rivers, summer's warme in me. 
 
 And Flora, by the miracle reviv'd, 
 
 Doth even at her owne beauty wondring stand : 
 
 93 Even in life. 
 Tycho Brache, the celebrated Danish astronomer, was 
 credulously addicted to judicial astrology. His presages were 
 not confined to an observation of the stars. If he met aa 
 old woman when he went out of doors, or a hare upon the 
 road when on a journey, he considered it as an ill omen, 
 and immediately turned back. 
 
90 CASTARA. 
 
 But should she frowne, thenortherne wind 5 arriv'd 
 In midst of summer, leads his frozen band ; 
 Which doth to yce my youthfull blood congeale, 
 Yet in the midst of yce still flames my zeale. 
 
PART nu>T. 91 
 
 IN CASTARA, 
 
 ALL FORTUNES. 
 
 X e glorious wits, who finde than Parian stone 
 A nobler quarry to build trophies on, 
 Purchast 'gainst conquer'd time, go court loud 
 
 fame : 
 He wins it, who but sings Castara's name. 
 Aspiring soules, who grow but in a spring, 
 Forc't by the warmth of some indulgent king ; 
 Know, if Castara smile, I dwell in it, 
 And vie for glory with the favourit. 
 Ye sonnes of avarice, who but to share 
 Vncertaine treasure with a certain care, 
 Tempt death in th* horrid ocean : I, when ere 
 I but approach her, find the Indies there. 
 Heaven, brightest saint ! kinde to my vowes ? made 
 
 thee 
 Of all ambition courts ; th' epitome. 
 
m 
 
 
 CASTARA, 
 
 VPON THOUGHT CASTARA MAY DYE. 
 
 If she should dye, (as well suspect we may, 
 A body so compact should ne're decay) 
 Her brighter soule would in the Moon inspire 
 More chastity, in dimmer starres more fire. 
 You twins of Laeda-* (as your parents are 
 In their wild lusts) may grow irregular 
 
 2 * You twins of Leda. 
 The constellation of Gemini or the Twins: which 
 was thought propitious to navigators. They are des- 
 cribed by Manillas, as they are painted on the globe; in 
 the form and attitude of naked youth?, with their arms inter- 
 woven. Ovid designates them as Castor and Pollux ; 
 Horace also calls them M those bright stars, the brothers of 
 Helen." Accordingly in marble antiques and on family 
 medals, they appear on horseback, side by side ; each 
 with a coat of mail and a spear in his hand ; and a star 
 over his head. Spence observes, that the identity of the 
 constellation with Uastor and Pollux cannot be reconciled 
 with the popular fable of their taking their places alternately 
 in the higher heavens : for the stars instead of rising and 
 
PART FIKTIY 
 
 Now in your motion ; for the marrincr 
 Henceforth shall oncly stccre his course by her : 
 And when the zcale of after time shall spie 
 Her uncorrupt i'th' happy marble lie, 
 The roses in her checkes unwithered, 
 'Twill turne to loye, and dote upon the dead ; 
 For he who did to her in life dispence 
 A Heaven, will banish all corruption thence. 
 
 setting alternately, are always seen together. The mytho- 
 logical amour of Leda, with Jupiter in the shape of a swan, 
 was unknown to Homer and Hesiod ; und must, therefore, 
 have been the invention of later mvthologists. 
 
94 CASTARA. 
 
 TIME TO THE MOMENTS, 
 
 ON SIGHT OF CASTARA. 
 
 J. ou younger children of your father stay 5 
 Swift flying moments (which divide the day. 
 And with your number measure out the yeare 
 In various seasons) stay and wonder here. 
 For since my cradle, I so bright a grace 
 Ne're saw, as you see in Castara's face ; 
 Whom Nature to revenge some youthfull crime 
 Would never frame, till age had weakened time. 
 Else spight of fate, in some faire forme of clay 
 My youth I'de' bodied, throwne my sythe away, 
 And broke my glasse. But since that cannot be, 
 I'le punish Nature for her injurie. 
 
 On, nimble moments! in your journey flie ; 
 
 Castara shall, like me, grow old, and die. 
 
PART FIRST. 
 
 95 
 
 TO A FRIEND 
 
 INQUIRING HER NAME, WUOM HE LOVEP. 
 
 Fond Love himsclfc hopes to disguise 
 From view, if he but covered lies, 
 I'th 1 veile of my transparent eyes. 
 
 Though in a smile himselfe he hide, 
 Or in a sigh, thou art so tride 
 In all his arts, hee'le be descride. 
 
 I must confessc (deare friend) my flame, 
 Whose boasts Castara so doth tame, 
 That not thy faith shall know her name. 
 
 ''Twere prophanation of my zeale,-^ 
 
 25 * Twere prophanaliun of my teal. 
 There is something of the same cast of sentiment in a 
 canzon of Camoens : " A minha dor, e o nome," &c. 
 
 Why should I indiscreetly tell 
 
 The name my heart has kept so well ? 
 
96 CASTARA* 
 
 If but abroad one whisper steale; 
 They love betray who him reveale. 
 
 In a darke cave, which never eye 
 Could by his subtlest ray descry,- 
 It doth like a rich nrinerall lye. 
 
 Which if she with her flame refine, 
 I'de force it from that obscure mine^ 
 And then it like pure gold should shine.. 
 
 Why to the senseless crowd proclaim 
 For whom ascends my bosom-flame ? 
 
 Lord Strangford. 
 
 Carew has turned the same thought in a different man-? 
 ner . 
 
 Seek not to know my love ; for she 
 Hath vow'd her constant faith to me. 
 Search hidden nature ; and there find 
 A treasure to enrich thy mind ; 
 Discover arts not yet reveal'd, 
 But let my mistress live conceal'd ; 
 Though men by knowledge wiser grow* 
 Yet here 'tis wisdom not to know. 
 
PART FIRST. 07 
 
 A DIALOGUE 
 
 BETWEENE HOPE AND FEARE.' 
 
 >'3 
 
 FEARE. 
 
 Ciiecke thy forward thoughts, and know- 
 Hymen only joynes their hands ; 
 Who with even paces goe, 
 Shee in gold, he rich in lands. 
 
 HOPE. 
 
 But Castara's purer fire, 
 When it meetes a noble flame ; 
 Shuns the smoke of such desire, 
 Ioynes with loye, and burnes the same. 
 
 26 Dialogue between Hope and Feare. 
 The dialogue between Horace and Lydia, of which 
 Herrick, in Granger's opinion, was the first professed trans- 
 lator, and which was afterwards both translated and imi- 
 tated to satiety, seems to have been the prototype of all the 
 dialogue lyrics, which were so fashionable in this era of 
 our poetry. 
 
 H 
 
98 CASTARA. 
 
 FEARE. 
 
 Yet obedience must prevaile ; 
 They, who o're her actions sway, 
 Would have her in th' ocean saile, 
 And contemne thy narrow sea. 
 
 HOPE. 
 
 Parents' lawes must beare no weight 
 When they happinesse prevent, 
 And our sea is not so streight. 
 But it rooine hath for content. 
 
 FEARE, 
 
 Thousand hearts as victims stand, 
 At the altar of her eyes ; 
 And will partiall she command 
 Onely thine for sacrifice ? 
 
 HOPE. 
 
 Thousand victims must returne; 
 She the purest will designs : 
 Choose Castara which shall burne, 
 Choose the purest, that is mine. 
 
fart nnsT. 99 
 
 TO CUPID, 
 
 TPON A DIMPLE IN CASTARA'S CIIEEKE. / 
 
 JN imble boy, in thy warme flight 
 
 What cold tyrant dimm'd thy sight ? 
 
 lladst thou eyes to see my faire, 
 
 Thou wouldst sigh thy self to ayre : 
 
 Fearing to create this one. 
 
 Nature had her selfe undone. 
 
 But if you, when this you heare, 
 
 Fall downe murdered thro ugh your eare, 
 
 Begge of love that you may have 
 
 In her cheekc a dimpled grave. 27 
 
 2 " In her cheeke a dimpled grave, 
 Carew has a similar conceit : 
 
 In her fair cheeks two pits do He, 
 To bury those slain by her eye : 
 My grave with rose and lilly spread ; 
 Oh ! lis a life to be so dead. 
 H 2 
 
100 
 
 CASTARA. 
 
 Lilly, rose, and violet 
 Shall the perfum'd hearse beset; 
 While a beauteous sheet of lawne 
 O're the wanton corps is drawne: 
 And all lovers use this breath ; 
 a Here lies Cupid blest in death/* 
 
PART FIRST. 101 
 
 CVPID'S DEATH AND BURIAL 
 
 irr 
 
 CASTARA'S CHEEKE. 
 
 Cypid's dead. Who would not die 
 To be interr'd so neere her eye ? 
 Who would feare the sword, to hare 
 Such an alabaster grave ? 
 O're which two bright tapers burne, 
 To give light to the beauteous vrne; 
 At the first Castara sraiPd, 
 Thinking Cupid her beguiled, 
 Onely counterfeiting death : 
 But when she perceived his breath 
 Quite expired ; the mournefull girle, 
 To entombe the boy in pearle, 
 Wept so long ; till pittious Iove$ 
 From the ashes of this Love, 
 
102 CASTARA. 
 
 Made ten thousand Cupids rise, 
 But confin'd them to her eyes : 
 Where they yet, to show they lacke 
 No due sorrow, stiil weare blacke. 28 
 But the blacks so glorious are 
 Which they niourne ia 5 that the faire 
 Quires of starres looke pale and fret, 
 Seeing themseWes out shin'd by jet. 
 
 28 Still wegre blacke. 
 Alluding to the pupil of the e>e, which reflects th 
 person; that is the object of vision. This conceit of a baby 
 or.acupid, in the eye, is among the most trite of poetic; 
 fancies : Cowley surpasses all his brethren, in transferring 
 the reflexion from the eye to a tear : 
 
 As stars reflect on waters, so I spy 
 In every drop, methinks, her eye ; 
 The baby which lives there, and always plays 
 In that illustrious sphere, 
 Like a Narcissus does appear, 
 Whilst in his flood the lovely bey did gaze. 
 
 The same image of babies in the eyes occurs repeatedly in 
 the lesser poems of Cainoens.— See Lord Strangford's trans- 
 lation. 
 
 s 
 
FART FIRST. 103 
 
 TO FAME. 
 
 Jl ly on thy swiftest wing, ambitious Fame, 
 And speakc to the cold North Castara's name : 
 Which very breath will, like the East wind, brings 
 The temp'rate warmth, and musicke of the spring. 
 Then, from the articke to th' antarticke pole, 
 Haste nimbly, and inspire a gentler soule, 
 By naming her, i'th' torrid South; that he 
 May miide as Zephyrus' coolc whispers be. 
 Nor let the West where Heaven already joynes 
 The vastest empire, and the wealthiest mines, 
 Nor th' East, in pleasures wanton, her condemne,. 
 For not distributing her gifts on them. 
 
 For she with want would have her bounty meet 3 . 
 
 Love's noble chanty is so discreete. 
 
104 CASTARA. 
 
 A DIALOGUE. 
 
 BETWEENE ARAPHILL AND CASTARA. 
 
 ARAPHILL. 
 
 Dost not thou Castara read 
 Ani'rous volumes in my eyes ? 
 Doth not every motion plead 
 What I'de shew, and yet disguise ? 
 Sences act each other's part, 
 Eyes, as tongues, reveale the heart. 
 
 CASTARA. 
 
 I saw lore as lightning breake 
 From thy eyes, and was content 
 Oft to heare thy silence spcake: 
 Silent love is eloquent: 
 
 So the seuce of learning heares 
 The dumbe musicke of the spheares* 
 
PART FIRST. 105 
 
 ARAPHILL. 
 
 Then there's mercy in your kinde, 
 Listning to an unfain'd love : 
 Or strives he (o tame the wind, 
 Who would your compassion move? 
 No ; y'are pittious as y're fairc : 
 Heaven relents, o'ercome by prayer* 
 
 CASTARA. 
 
 But loose man too prodigall 
 Is in the ex pence of vowes ; 
 And thinks to him kingdomes fall 
 When the heart of woman bowes ; 
 
 Frailty to yourarmes may yeeld; 
 
 Who resists you wins the field. 
 
 ARAPHILL. 
 
 Triumph not to see me bleede ; 
 
 Let the bore, chafed from his den, 
 
 On the wounds of mankinde feede ; 
 
 Your softe sexe should pitty men : 
 Malice well may practise art, 
 Love hath a transparent heart. 
 
105 CASTARA. 
 
 CASTARA. 
 
 Yet is love all one deceit, 
 
 A warme frost, a frozen fire : 
 
 She within herself is great, 
 
 Who is slave to no desire ; 
 
 Let youth act, and age advise, 
 And then Love may finde his eye»* 
 
 ARAPHILL. 
 
 Hymen's torch yeelds a dim Mght^ 
 When ambition joynes our hands ; 
 A proud day, but mournefull night, 
 She sustaines, who marries lands: 
 
 Wealth slaves man : but for their ore, 
 Th' Indians had beene free, though poore* 
 
 CASTARA. 
 
 And yet wealth the fuell is 
 Which maiutaines the nuptiall fire y 
 And in honour there's a blisse, 
 Th' are immortall who aspire. 
 
 But truth sayes no joyes are sweety 
 
 But where hearts united meete* 
 
 
part ri: 107 
 
 AUAriULL. 
 
 Roses breath not such a sent, 
 To perfume the neighb'ring groves ; 
 As when you affirm, content 
 In no spheare of glory moves : 
 Glory narrow souies combines : 
 Noble hearts Love onely joynes. 
 
108 CASTARA, 
 
 TO CASTARA, 
 
 INTENDING A JOURNEY INTO THE COUNTRY. 
 
 V'Vhy haste you hence Castara ? can the Earth, 
 A glorious mother, in her flowry birth. 
 Show lillies like thy brow ? Can she disclose 
 In emulation of thy cheeke, a rose, 
 Sweete as thy blush ? upon thy selfe then set 
 lust yalue, and scorne it thy counterfet. 
 The spring's still with thee ; but perhaps the field, 
 Not warm'd with thy approach, wants force t» 
 
 yeeld 
 Her tribute to the plough : O rather let 
 Th' ingratefull Earth for ever be in debt 
 To th' hope of sweating Industry, than we 
 Should starve with cold, who have no heat but 
 thee. 
 Nor feare the publicke good ; Thy eyes can give 
 A life to all, who can deserve to live. 
 
 
PART FIRST. 100 
 
 CASTARA'S DEPARTURE. 
 
 I AM cngag'd to sorrow, and my heart 
 Feeles a distracted rage. Though you depart 
 And leave me to my feares ; let love, in spite 
 Of absence, our divided soules unite. 
 But you must goe. The melancholy doves 
 Draw Venus' chariot hence : the sportive Loves 
 "Which wont to wanton here hence with you flye, 
 And, like false friends, forsake me when I dye ; 
 For but a walking tombe what can he be, 
 Whose best of life is forc't to part with thee I 
 
110 CASTARA, 
 
 TO CASTARA, 
 
 TPON A TREMBLIXG KISS AT DEPARTURE. 
 
 JLh' Arabian wind/ 9 whose breathing gently blows 
 Purple to th' violet, blushes to the rose, 
 Did never yeeld an odour rich as this : 
 Why are you then so thrifty of a kisse, 
 
 29 Th* Arabian wind. 
 The myrrh, aloes, and frankincense, indigenous to the 
 soil of Arabia, have naturalised the term Arabian in poetry 
 as s>,nonimoiis with fragrant. — Milton is fond of this allusion. 
 In " Paradise Regained," where a charmed banquet is 
 presented by the Tempter to the Messiah, we are told that 
 
 winds 
 Of gentlest gale Arabian odour fann'd 
 From their soft wings. 
 
 Epithets allusive to particular countries, are always grace- 
 ful and picturesque from their individuality ; and interesting 
 from the train of association which they open to the fancy : 
 Milton abounds with such epithets: and Virgil has his 
 Idumean palms, and his Sicyonian olives. 
 
 . 
 
PART FIRST. Ill 
 
 Authorized even by custome ? Why doth feare 
 So tremble on your lip, my lip being neare? 
 Thinke you I, parting with so sad a zcale, 
 Will act so blacke a no is chief e ? as to stealc 
 Thy roses thence ? And they, by this device 
 Transplanted, somewhere else force Paradice ? 
 Or else you feare, lest you, should my heart skip 
 Vp to my mouth, V incounter with your lip, 
 Might rob me of it ; and be judg'd in this, 
 T' have Iudas like betraid me with a kisse* 
 
112 CASTARA. 
 
 ON" CASTARA^ 
 
 LOOKING BACKE AT HER DEPARTING* 
 
 JLooke backe Castara ! From thy eye 
 Let yet more flaming arrowes flye: 
 To live is thus to burne and dye. 
 
 For what might glorious hope desire. 
 
 But that thy selfe, as I expire, 
 
 Should bring both death and funerall fire I 
 
 Distracted love shall grieve to see 
 Such zeale in death : for feare lest he 
 Himselfe should be consum'd in me. 
 
 And gathering up my ashes, weepe, 
 That in his teares he them may steepe n 
 And thus embalm 1 d, as reliques, keepe. 
 
PAIIT FIRST. 113 
 
 Thither let lovers pilgrims turne, 
 
 And the loose flames in which they burne 
 
 Give up, as offerings to my vrrie. 
 
 That then the vertue of my shrine 
 
 By miracle so long refine ; 
 
 Till they prove innocent as mine. 
 
114 CASTARA. 
 
 UPON 
 
 CASTARA'S ABSENCE. 
 
 
 1 is madnesse to give physicke to the dead ; 30 
 Then leave me friends : Yet haply you'd here read 
 A lecture : but Pie not dissected be, 31 
 T J instruct your art by my anatomic 
 
 30 Tis madnesse to give physicke to the dead. 
 This is borrowed from Propertius : 
 
 Atque utinarn non tam sero raihi nota fuisset 
 Conditio ; Cineri nunc medicina datur. 
 
 L. 2. Eleg. 14. 
 
 Oh ! had my state been earlier known ! you shed 
 Your potions, on the ashes of the dead. 
 
 31 Vie not dissected be. 
 It was the glory of the metaphysical poets to link together 
 images of pleasure and horror — ideas which from common 
 consent are thought attractive, with such as occasion aversion 
 
PART FIRST. 115 
 
 But still you trust your sense, svvcarc you descry 
 No difference in me. AITs deceit o'th' eye ; 
 Some spirit hath a body fram'd in th" ayre 
 Like mine, which he doth to delude you wcare: 
 Else Heaven by miracle makes me survive 
 My selfc, to keepe in me poore love alive. 
 But I am dead ; yet let none question where 
 My best part rests, and with a sigh or teare, 
 Prophane the pompc, when they my corps interre, 
 My soulc imparadis'd, for 'tis with her. 
 
 and disgust. Chirurgery, in particular, seems to have been 
 a favorite source of metaphor : Cowley says to his mistress, 
 
 Gently, ah ! gently, Madam, touch 
 
 The wound, which you yourself have made. 
 
 We need not, therefore, wonder that Carew should have 
 stumbled upon a similar fancy to that of Habington : 
 
 If, when I die, physicians doubt 
 What caus'd my death; and, there to view 
 Of all their judgments which was true, 
 Rip op my heart ; oh then I fear 
 The world will see thy picture there. 
 
 i 2 
 
116 CASTARA, 
 
 TO CASTARA, 
 
 COMPLAINING HER ABSENCE IN THE COUNTRY. 
 
 InE lesser people of the ayre conspire 
 To keepe thee from me. Philomel with higher 
 And sweeter notes, wooes thee to weepe her rape, 
 Which would appease the gods and change her 
 
 shape. 
 The early larke, preferring 'fore soft rest 
 Obsequious duty, leaves his downy nest, 
 And doth to thee harmonious tribute pay ; 
 Expecting from thy eyes the breake of day. 
 From which the owl is frighted, and doth rove 
 (As never having felt the warmth of love) 
 In uncouth vaults, and the chill shades of night, 
 Not biding the bright lustre of thy sight. 
 
 With him my fate agrees. Not viewing thee 
 I'me lost in mists : at best, but meteors see. 
 
PART FIRST. 117 
 
 TO THAMES. 
 
 owift in thy watry chariot, courteous Thames, 
 
 Hast by the happy errour of thy strcames, 
 
 To kisse the banks of Marlow, which doth show 
 
 Faire Seymors, 32 and beyond thai; never flow. 
 
 Then summon all thy swans, that who did give 
 
 Musicke to death, may henceforth sing, and live, 
 
 For my Castara. She can life restore. 
 
 Or quicken them who had no life before. 
 
 How should the poplar else the pine provoke. 
 
 The stately cedar challenge t)\e rude oke 
 
 To dance at sight of her? They have no sense 
 
 From Nature given, but by her influence ; 
 
 If Orpheus did those senslesse creatures move. 
 He was a prophet and fore sang my love. 
 
 33 Fair Seymours. 
 The name of the house in which Castara resided at Mar- 
 low upon Thames. 
 
118 CASTARA. 
 
 TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE 
 
 THE EARLE OF SHREWES. 33 
 
 JVIy Muse, (great lord) when last you heard her 
 
 sing, 
 Did to your vncles vrne her offerings bring: 
 And if to fame I may give faith, your eares 
 Delighted in the musicke of her teares. 
 That was her debt to vertue. And when e're 
 She her bright head among the clouds shall reare, 
 And adde to th' wcndring Heavens a new flame, 
 Shee'le celebrate the genius of your name. 
 Wilde with another race, inspired by love. 
 She charmes the myrtles of the Idalian grove. 
 And while she gives the Cyprian stormes a law. 
 Those wanton doves, which Cythereia draw 
 
 33 Earle of Shretccs. 
 John, 10th Earl of Shrewsbury. He succeeded his uncle, 
 George, the 9th Earl, who died unmarried April 2d, 1630; 
 and to whom the subsequent elegy of Habington, beginning 
 il Bright saint thy pardon," refers. 
 
r.VRT FinsT. 1 19 
 
 Through th' am'rous ayre, admire what power 
 
 doth sway 
 The ocean, and arrest them in their way. 
 She sings Clstara then. O she more bright, 
 Than is the starry senate of the night ; 
 Who in tlu'ir motion did like straglers erre, 
 Cause they deriv'd no influence from her, 
 Who's constant as she's chaste. The Sunnc hath 
 
 bcene 
 Clad like a neighb'ring shephcard often scene 
 To hunt those dales, in hope than Daphne's there 
 To see a brighter facz. Th' astrologer 
 In th' interim dyed, whose proud art could not 
 
 show 
 Whence that eclipse did on the sudden grow. 
 A wanton satyre eager in the chase 
 Of some faire nymph, beheld Casta ra's face, 
 And left his loose pursuite ; who while he ey'd, 
 Vn chastely, such a beauty, glorified 
 With such a verfcne, by Heaven's great commands, 
 Turn'd marble, and there yet a statue stands. 
 As poet thus. But as a Christian now, 
 And by my zeale to you (my lord) I tow, 
 She doth a flame so pure and sacred move; 
 In me impiety 'twere not to love. 
 
120 CASTARA. 
 
 TO CVPID, 
 
 WISHING A SPEEDY PASSAGE TO CASTARA. 
 
 1 hankes Cupid, but the coach of Venus moves 
 For me too slow, clravvne but by lazie cloves. 
 I, lest my journey a delay should finde, 
 AVill leape into the chariot of the wind. 
 Swift as the flight of lightning through the ayre, 
 Hee'le hurry me till I approach the faire, 
 But unkinde Seymors. Thus he will proclaime. 
 What tribute winds owe to Castara's name. 
 Viewing this prodigie, astonisht they, 
 Who first accesse deny'd me, will obey. 
 With feare, what love commands : yet censure me 
 As guilty of the blackest sorcery ; 
 But after to my wishes milder prove, 
 When they know this the miracle of love. 
 
PART FIRST. 121 
 
 TO CASTARA, 
 
 OF LOVE. 
 
 How fancie mockes me ! By th' effect I prove, 
 'Twas am'rous folly wings ascrib'd to Love^ 
 And, ore th' obedient elements, command. 
 Hee's lame as he is blindc, for here I stand 
 Fixt as the Earth. Throw then this idoll dowue 
 Yee lovers who first made it; which can frowne 
 Or smile, but as you please. But I'me untame 
 In rage. Castara call thou on his name, 
 And though hc'elc not beare up my vowes to thee ; 
 Hee'le triumph to bring downe my saint to me. 
 
122 CASTARA, 
 
 TO THE SPRING, 
 
 TPON THE UNCERTAINTY OF CASTARA'S ABODE. 
 
 Jb aire mistresse of the Earth, with garlands cro wn'd 
 Rise, by a lover's charme, from the partcht ground, 
 And shew thy flowry wealth : that she, where ere 
 Her starres shall guide her, meete thy beauties 
 
 there. 
 Should she to the coldnortherne climates goe, 
 Force thy affrighted lillies there to grow, 
 Thy roses in those gelid fields V appeare ; 
 She absent, I have all their winter here. 
 Or if to th' torrid zone her way she bend, 
 Her the coole breathing of Favonious lend. 
 Thither command the birds to bring their quires ; 
 That zone is temp'rate, I have all his fires. 
 
 Attend her, courteous Spring, though we should 
 here 
 
 Lose by it all the treasures of the yeere. 
 
PART FIRST. Itt 
 
 TO REASON, 
 
 VPON CASTARA'S ABSENCE. 
 
 W ith your calme precepts goe, and lay a storme 
 
 In some brest flegmaticke, which would conforme 
 
 Her life to your cold lawcs : in vaine y' engage 
 
 Your selfe on me, I will obey my rage. 
 
 Shee's gone, and I am lost. Some unknowne grove 
 
 Pie finde, where by the miracle of Love 
 
 Pie turne V a fountaine, and divide the yeere. 
 
 By numbring every moment with a teare. 
 
 Where if Castara (to avoyd the beamcs 
 
 O' th' neigh'bring Sun) shall wandring meet my 
 
 streames, 
 And tasting hope her thirst alaid shall be, 
 Shee'Ie fecle a sudden flame, and burnc like me : 
 And thus distracted cry ; u Tell me thou cleere, 
 But treach'rous fount, what lover's coffin'd here?" 
 
124 CASTARA. 
 
 ANSWERE TO CASTARA'S QUESTION. 
 
 lis I, Castara, who when thou wert gone,, 
 Did freeze into this rnelancholly stone, 
 To vveepe the minutes of thy absence. Where 
 Can greefe have freer scope to mourne than here ? 
 The larkehere practiseth a sweeter straine, 
 Aurora's early blush to entertaine, 
 And haying too deepe tasted of these streames, 
 He loves, and amorously courts her beames. 
 The courteous turtle, with a wandring zeale, 
 Saw how to stone I did myselfe congeale, 
 And murm'ring askt, what power this change did 
 
 move ? 
 The language of my waters whispered. Love. 
 And thus transform'd Pie stand, till I shall see 
 That heart, so ston'd and frozen, thaw'd in thee* 
 
TAKT FIRST. 125 
 
 TO CASTARA, 
 
 VFOX THE DISGUISING HIS AFFECTION* 
 
 1 ronounce me guilty of a blacker crime, 
 Then c're, in the large volume writ by Time, 
 The sad historian reades, if not my art 
 Dissembles love, to veile an am'rous heart. 
 For when the zealous anger of my friend 
 Checkes my unusuall sadnesse, I pretend 
 To study vertue, which indeede I doe ; 
 He must court vertue, who aspires to you. 
 Or that some friend is dead, and then a teare, 
 A sigh, or groane steales from me : for I feare 
 Lest death with love hath strooke my heart, and all 
 These sorrowes usher but its funerall : 
 
 Which should revive, should there you a 
 mourner be, 
 
 And force a nuptiall in an obsequie. 
 
126 CASTARA. 
 
 TO THE HONOURABLE 
 
 MY HONOURED KINSMAN, MR.. G. T* 3 * 
 
 J-hrice hath the pale-fac'd empresse of the night 
 Lent in her chaste increase her borrowed light, 
 To guide the vowing mariner, since mute 
 Talbot th'ast beene ; too slothfull to salute 
 Thy exil'd servant. Labour not V excuse 
 This dull neglect : love never wants a muse. 
 When thunder summons from eteniall sleepe 
 Th' imprison'd ghosts, and spreads o' th' frighted 
 
 deepe 
 A veile of darknesse, penitent to be 
 I may forget, yet still remember thee, 
 
 3* My honoured Kinsman Mr. G. T. 
 The Hon. George Talbot. He must have been one of the 
 three younger sons of John Talbot of Longford, (brother to 
 George Earl of Shrewsbury) whose names are not mentioned 
 in Collins's Peerage. Censura Litteraria, vol. 10. p. 193. 
 
TART FIRST. 127 
 
 Next to my faire; under whose eye-lids move, 
 
 In nimble measures, beauty, wit, and love. 
 
 Nor think Castara (though the sex be fraile, 
 
 And ever like unccrtaine vessels saile 
 
 On th' ocean of their passions; while each wind, 
 
 Triumphs to sec their more uncertaine mind,) 
 
 Can be induc't to alter. Every starre 
 
 May in its motion grow irregular ; 
 
 The Sunne forget to yeeld his welcome flame 
 
 To th' teeming Earth, yet she remaine the same: 
 
 And in my armes (if poets may divine) 
 
 I once that world of beauty shall intwine: 
 
 And on her lips print volumes of my love, 
 
 Without a froward checke, and sweetly move 
 
 I'th' labrinth of delight. If not, I'le draw 
 
 Her picture on my heart, and gently thaw 
 
 With warmth of zeale, untill I Heaven entreat; 
 
 To give true life to th' ayery counterfeit. 
 
128 CASTARA. 
 
 ECCHO TO NARCISSUS, 
 
 IN PRAISE OF CASTARA's DISCREETE LOVE. 
 
 ocorn'© in thy watry Trne Narcissus lye, 
 Thou shalt not force more tribute from my eye 
 T' increase thy streames : or make me weepe a 
 
 showre. 
 To adde fresh beauty to thee, now a llowre. 
 But should relenting Heaven restore thee sence 
 To see such wisedome temper innocence 
 In faire Castara's loves ; how shee discreet 
 Makes causion with a noble freedome meete, 
 At the same moment; thou'ld'st confesse, fond boy 5 
 Fooles onely think them vertuous, who are coy. 
 And wonder not that I, who have no choyce 
 Of speech, have, praysing her, so free a voyce : 
 Heaven her severest sentence doth repeale, 
 When to Castara I would speakc my zeale. 
 
 
PART FIRST. 129 
 
 TO CASTARA, 
 
 BEING DEBARR'D HER PRESENCE. 
 
 J3anisht from you, I charg'd the nimble winde, 
 
 My unseene messenger, to speake my minde, 
 
 In am'rous whispers to you. But my Muse, 
 
 Lest the unruly spirit should abuse 
 
 The trust repos'd in him, sayd it was due 
 
 To her alone, to sing my loyes to you. 
 
 Heare her then speake. " Bright lady, from whose 
 
 eye 
 Shot lightning to his heart, who joyes to dye 
 A martyr in your flames : O let your love 
 Be great and firme as his : Then nought shall 
 
 move 
 Your settled faiths, that both may grow together : 
 Or if by Fate divided, both may wither. 
 
130 CASTARA. 
 
 Harke ! 'twas a groane. Ah how sad absence 
 
 rends 
 
 His troubled thoughts ! See, he from Marlow sends 
 His eyes to Seymors. Then chides th' envious trees, 
 And unkiade distance. Yet his fancie sees 
 And courts your beauty, joyes as he had cleav'd 
 Close to you, and then weepes because deceiv'd* 
 Be constant as y'are faire. For I fore-see 
 A glorious triumph waits o'th' victorie 
 Your love will purchase, showing us to prize 
 A true content. There onely Love hath eyes." 
 
PART TIRST. 131 
 
 TO SEYMORS, 
 
 THE HOUSE IN WHICH CASTARA LIVED. 
 
 jL>lest temple, haile, where the chast altar stands, 
 Which Nature built, but the exacter hands 
 Of vertue polisht. Though sad fate deny 
 My prophane feete accesse, my vowes shall flye. 
 May those musitians, which divide the ayre 
 With their harmonious breath, their flight prepare 
 For this glad place, and all their accents frame, 
 To teach the eccho my Castara's name. 
 The beautious troopes of Graces, led by Love 
 In chaste attempts, possesse the neighboring grove, 
 Where may the spring dwell still. May every tree 
 Turne to a laurell, and propheticke be, 
 Which shall in its first oracle divine, 
 That courteous Fate decrees Castara mine. 
 
 K 2 
 
132 CASTARA. 
 
 TO THE DEW, 
 
 IN HOPE TO SEE CASTARA WALKING. 
 
 .Bright dew, which dost the field adorne, 
 As th' Earth, to welcome in the morne, 
 Would hang a Jewell on each corne : 
 
 Did not the pittious night, whose eares 
 Have oft beene conscious of my feares, 
 Distil you from her eyes as teares ? 
 
 Or that Castara for your zeale, 
 When she her beauties shall reveale, 
 Might you to dyamonds congeale ? 
 
 If not your pity, yet how ere 
 
 Your care I praise, 'gainst she appeare, 
 
 To make the wealthy Indies here. 
 
 
PART FIRST. 13" 
 
 But see she comes. Bright lampe o'th' skie, 
 Put out thy light : the world shall spie 
 A fairer Sunne in either eye. 
 
 And liquid pearl, hang heavie now 
 On every grasse, that it may bow 
 In veneration of her brow. 
 
 Yet if the wind should curious be, 
 And were I here should question thee, 
 Hee's full of whispers, speake not me. 
 
 But if the busie tell-tale day 
 Our happy enterview betray ; 
 Lest thou confesse too ; melt away. 
 
134 CASTARA. 
 
 TO CASTARA. 
 
 Stay under the kinde shadow of this tree 
 
 Casiara, and protect thyself and me 
 
 From the Sunne's rayes. Which show the grace 
 
 of kings 
 A dangerous warmth with too much favour brings. 
 How happy in this shade the humble vine 
 Doth ? bout some taller tree her selfe intwine, 
 And so growes frititfull ; teaching us her fate 
 Doth beare more sweetes, though cedars beare 
 
 more state ; 
 Behold Adonis in yand' purple flowre : 
 T' was Venus' love : That dew, the briny showre^ 
 His coynesse wept, while strugling yet alive : 
 Now he repents and gladly would revive, 
 
 By th' vertue of your chaste and powerfull 
 charmes, 
 
 To play the modest wanton in your armes. 
 
PART FIRST. 135 
 
 TO CASTARA, 
 
 VENTURING TO WALKE TOO FARRE IN THE 
 NEIGHBOURING WOOD. 
 
 .Dare not too farre Castara, for the shade 
 This courteous thicket yeelds hath man betray'd 
 A prey to wolves to the wilde powers o'th' wood; 
 Oft travellers pay tribute with their blood. 
 If careless of thy selfe, of me take care ; 
 For like a ship, where all the fortunes are 
 Of an advent'rous merchant ; I must be, 
 If thou should'st perish, banquerout in thee. 
 My feares have mockt me. Tygers, when they shall 
 Behold so bright a face, will humbly fall 
 In adoration of thee. Fierce they are 
 To the deform'd, obsequious to the faire. 
 Yet venture not ; 'tis nobler farre to sway 
 The heart of man ; than beasts ; who man obey. 
 
136 CASTARA. 
 
 rpow 
 
 CASTARA'S DEPARTURE. 
 
 V owes are vaine. No suppliant breath 
 Stayes the speed of swift-heel'd Death* 
 Life with her is gone, and I 
 Learn but a new way to dye. 
 See the flowers condole, and all 
 Wither iu my funerall. 
 The bright HHy, as if day 
 Parted with her, fades away. 
 Violets hang their heads, and lose 
 All their beauty. That the rose 
 A sad part in sorrow feeares, 
 Witnesse all those dewy teares, 
 Which as pearle, or dyamond like, 
 ^well upon her blushing cheeke. 
 
 
PART FIRST. 137 
 
 All things mourne, but oh behold 
 How the withered marigold 35 
 Closeth up, now she is gone, 
 Iudging her the setting Sunne. 
 
 35 How the wither* d marigold. 
 The notion of the marigold closing when the sun sets, is 
 commonly adopted by the poets ; and is perhaps a popular 
 doctrine. Drayton has the " morn-lov'd marigold :" and 
 Browne in his M Britannia's Pastorals" observes 
 
 the day is waxen old, 
 
 And gins to shut in with the marisjolde. 
 
138 CASTARA. 
 
 A DIALOGUE 
 
 BETWEENE NIGHT AND ARAPHIL. 
 
 NIGHT. 
 
 JLet silence close thy troubled eyes. 
 
 Thy feare in Lethe steepe : 
 The starres, bright cent'nels of the skies ? 
 
 Watch to secure thy sleepe. 
 
 ARAPHIL. 
 
 The North's unruly spirit lay 
 
 In the disordered seas : 
 Made the rude winter calm as May? 
 
 And gave a lover ease. 
 
PART FIttST. 
 
 NIGHT. 
 
 Yet why should fearc with her pale charmes, 
 
 Bewitch thee so to griefe ? 
 Since it prevents n'insuing harmes, 
 
 Nor yeelds the past relicfe. 
 
 ARAPHIL. 
 
 And jet such horrour I sustaine 
 
 As the sad vessel], when 
 Rough tempest have incenst the maine 7 
 
 Her harbour now in ken. 
 
 NIGHT. 
 
 No conquest weares a glorious wreath, 
 
 Which dangers not obtaine : 
 Let tempests 'gainst the shipwrackc breathe. 
 
 Thou shalt thy harbour gaine. 
 
 ARAPHIL. 
 
 Truth's Delphos doth not still forctel, 
 
 Though Sol th' inspirer be ; 
 How then should Night, as blind as Hell, 
 
 Ensuing truths fore-see ? 
 
140 CASTARA. 
 
 NIGHT. 
 
 The Sunne yeelds man no constant flame; 
 
 One light those priests inspires ; 
 While I though blacke am still the same. 
 
 And have ten thousand fires. 
 
 ARAPHIL. 
 
 But those, saves my propheticke feare, 
 
 As funerall torches burne, 
 While thou thy selfe the blackes dost weare, 
 
 T' attend me to my vine. 
 
 NIGHT. 
 
 Thy feares abuse thee, for those lights 
 In Hymen's church shall shine. 
 
 When he by th' mystery of his rites. 
 Shall make Castara thine. 
 
PART FIRST. 141 
 
 TO TIIE RIGHT HONOURABLE 
 
 THE LADY, E. P.™ 
 
 Y our judgment's cleere, not wrinckled with the 
 
 time, 
 On th' humble fate ; which censures it a crime 
 To be by vertue ruin'd. For I know 
 Y' are not so various as to ebbe and flow 
 P th' streame of Fortune, whom each faithlesse 
 
 winde 
 Distracts, and they who made her, fram'd her 
 
 blinde. 
 
 36 The Lady E. P. 
 Lady Eleanor Powls : wife of William Herbert, first 
 Lord Powis, and daughter of Henry Percy, 8th Earl of 
 Northumberland : the mother of Habington's Castara. 
 
142 CASTARA, 
 
 Possession makes us poore. Should we obtaine 
 All those bright jems, for which i' th ? wealthy 
 
 maine 
 The tann'd slave dives ; or in one boundless chest 
 Imprison all the treasures of the West, 
 We still should want. Our better part's iramence^ 
 Not like th' inferiour, limited by sence. 
 Rich with a little, mutuall love can lift 
 Vs to a greatnesse, whither chance nor thrift 
 E're rais'd her servants, For,though all were spent. 
 That can create an Europe in content. 
 Thus (madam) when Castara lends an eare 
 Soft to my hope, I, love's philosopher, 
 Winne on her faith. For when I wondring stand 
 At th' intermingled beauty of her hand, 
 (Higher I dare not gaze) to this bright veine 
 I not ascribe the blood of Charlemaine 36 
 
 36 the blood of Charlemaine 
 
 Deriv'd from you to her. 
 
 Agnes, youngest daughter of William de Percy, on 
 whom the inheritance of the family estate devolved in the 
 6th of King John, married Josceline de Louvaine, Son of 
 Godfrey, Duke of Brabant; this ancestor of the Earls of 
 Northumberland traced his descent from Charlemagne. See 
 ;his pedigree in Collinses Peerage, vol. 5, 310. Sir Edward 
 
PAKT FIRST. 143 
 
 Dcriv'd by you to her ; or say there are, 
 In that and th'other, Marmion, Rosse, and Parr, 
 Fitzhugh, Saint Quiutin, and the rest of thein 
 That adde such lustre to great Pembroke's stem. 
 My love is envious. Would Castara were 
 The daughter of some mountaine cottager, 
 Who, with his toile worne out, could dying leave 
 Her no more dovvre, than what she did receive 
 From bounteous nature. Her would I then lead 
 To th' temple, rich in her owne wealth ; her head 
 Crown'd with her haire's faire treasure; diamonds 
 
 in 
 Her brighter eyes ; soft ermines in her skin ; 
 Each Indie in her cheeke. Then all who vaunt, 
 That Fortune, them V enrich, made others want, 
 
 Herbert of Poole Castle, Montgomeryshire, (afterwards 
 Powis Castle) brother to Henry Earl of Pembroke, was 
 ancestor to the Marquis of Powis. The titles of the Earl- 
 dom of Pembroke are, Herbert Earl of Pembroke and 
 Montgomery ; Baron Herbert of Caerdiff ; Ross of Kendall ; 
 Parr, Fitzhugh, Marmion, St. Quintin, and Herbert of 
 Shurland. 
 
 37 Each Indie in each cheeke. 
 An allusion to rubies. Shakspeare employs the same 
 metaphor in a burlesque sense: 
 
144 CASTARA, 
 
 Should set themselves out glorious in her stealth, 
 And trie if that could parallel this wealth. 
 
 S. Antipholis. Where America ? the Indies ? 
 S. Dromio. Oh Sir, upon her nose: all oer 
 embellished with rubies^ carbuncles, sapphires, 
 declining their rich aspect to the hot breath 
 of Spain. Comedy of Errors , Act 3, Scene 2, 
 
 
PART FIRST. 145 
 
 TO CASTARA, 
 
 DEPARTING UPON THE APPROACH OF NIGHT. 
 
 What should we feare Castara ? The coole aire, 
 That's falne in love, and wantons in thy haire, 
 Will not betray our whispers. Should I steale 
 A nectar'd kisse, the wind dares not reveale 
 The pleasure I possesse. The wind conspires 
 To our blest interview, and in our fires 
 Bathes like a salamander, and doth sip, 
 Like Bacchus from the grape, life from thy lip. 
 Nor thinke of night's approach* The world's great 
 
 eye 
 Though breaking Nature's law, will us supply 
 With his still flaming lampe : and to obey 
 Our chaste desires, fix here perpetuall day. 
 But should' he set, what rebell night dares rise^ 
 To be subdu'd i'th' vict'ry of the eyes ? 
 
146 CASTARA, 
 
 AN APPARITION. 
 
 More welcome my Castara, than was light 
 To the disordered chaos, O what bright 
 And nimble chariot brought thee through the aire ? 
 While the amazed stars, to see so faire 
 And pure a beauty from the Earth arise, 
 Chang'd all their glorious bodies into eyes. 
 O let my zealous lip print on thy hand 
 The story of my love, which there shall stand 
 A bright inscription, to be read by none, 
 But who as I love thee, and love but one. 
 Why vanish you away ? Or is my sense 
 Deluded by my hope ? O sweete offence 
 Of erring nature ! And would Heaven this had 
 Beene true; or that I thus were ever mad. 
 
PART FIRST. 147 
 
 TO THE HONOURABLE MR. WM. E. 
 
 Hee who is good is happy. 33 Let the loude 
 Artillery of Heaven 39 breake through a cloud 
 
 38 He who is good is happy. 
 The same sentiment, and in the same words, occurs in 
 Howe's " Fair Penitent." 
 
 Then to be good 
 Is to be happy. 
 
 39 Artillery of heaven. 
 Crashaw in his ' Sacred Poems' has " Heaven's great 
 artillery :" So also Shakspeare. Taming of the Shrew, A. 
 1, S. 2. 
 
 Have I not heard great ordnance in the field, 
 And heaven* s artillery thunder in the skies ? 
 The sentiment is borrowed from Horace : L. 3. od. 3. 
 
 Nee fulminantis magna Jovis manus : 
 L 2 
 
148 CASTARA. 
 
 And dart its thunder at him, hee'le remaine 
 
 Vnmov'd, and nobler comfort entertaine 
 
 In welcomming th' approach of death, than vice 
 
 Ere found in her fictitious paradise. 
 
 Time mocks our youth, 40 and (while we number 
 
 past 
 Delights, and raise our appetite to taste 
 
 Si fractus illabatur orbis 
 Impavidum ferient ruinag. 
 
 Not the red arm of angry Jove 
 
 That flings the thunder from the sky, 
 And gives it rage to rear, and strength to fly ; 
 
 The stubborn virtue of his soul can move. 
 
 Should the whole frame of nature round him break, 
 
 In ruin and confusion huil'd ; 
 He, unconcernM, would hear the mighty wreck, 
 
 And stand secure amidst a falling world. 
 
 Addison, 
 
 This noble paraphrase of Addison has fallen into unde- 
 served oblivion, from the vulgarism and ludicrous triviality 
 of a single word ; which I have taken the liberty to alter. 
 The sly irony of Pope did not spare this mighty crack of a 
 world in ruins. See the Treatise on the Bathos. 
 
PART FIRST. 149 
 
 Ensuing) brings us to unflatter'd age. 
 
 Where we are left to satisfie the rage 
 
 Of threatning death : pomp, beauty, wealth, and all 
 
 Our friendships, shrinking from the funerall. 
 
 The thought of this begets that brave disdaine 
 
 With which thou view'st the world, and makes those 
 
 vaine 
 Treasures of fancy, serious fooles so court, 
 And sweat to purchase, thy contempt or sport. 
 What should we covet here : Why interpose 
 A cloud twixt us and Heaven ? kind Nature chose 
 Man's soule th' exchecquer where she'd hoor'd her 
 
 wealth, 
 And lodge all her rich secrets ; but by th' stealth 
 
 40 Time mocks our youth. 
 Probably suggested by a passage in Juvenal. Sat. 9. 126. 
 Festinat enim decurrere velox 
 Flosculus angustae, miseraeque brevissima vilse 
 Portio ; dum bibimus ; dum serta, unguenta, puellas 
 Posciraus, obrepitnon intellecta seneetus. 
 
 Brief is the span of life's afflicted day, 
 And youth's fleet blossom drops, and fades away. 
 While breathing liquid odours, bath'd in wine, 
 We press the blooming nymph ; the garland twine ; 
 Age, creeping on our pleasures, steals between 
 With unsuspected pace, and shuts the scene. 
 
150 CASTARA. 
 
 Of our own vanity, w'are left so poore, 
 
 The creature meerely sensuall knowes more. 
 
 The learned halcyon by her wisedome finds 
 
 A gentle season, when the seas and winds 
 
 Are silenc't by a calme, and then brings forth 
 
 The happy miracle of her rare birth. 
 
 Leaving with wonder all our arts possest, 
 
 That view the architecture of her nest. 
 
 Pride raiseth us 'bove justice* We bestowe 
 
 Increase of knowledge on old minds, which grow 
 
 By age to dotage : while the sensitive 
 
 Part of the world in it's first strength doth live. 
 
 Folly ? what dost thou in thy power containe 
 
 Deserves our study? Merchants plough the mairie 
 
 And bring home th' Indies, yet aspire to more 
 
 By avarice, in the possession poore. 
 
 And jet that idoll wealth we all admit 
 
 Into the soule's great temple, busie wit 
 
 Invents new orgies, fancy frames new rites 
 
 To show it's superstition* anxious nights 
 
 Are watcht to win its favour : while the beast 
 
 Content with Nature's courtesie doth rest. 
 
 Let man then boast no more a soule, since he 
 
 Hath lost that great prerogative. But thee 
 
PART FIRST. 151 
 
 (Whom fortune hath exempted from the heard 
 Of vulgar men, whom vertue hath prefer'd 
 Farre higher than thy birth) I must commend, 
 Rich in the purchase of so svvectc a friend. 
 And though my fate conducts me to the shade 
 Of humble quiet, my ambition payde 
 With safe content, while a pure virgin fame 
 Doth raise me trophies in Castara's name. 
 No thought of glory swelling me above 
 The hope of being famed for vcrtuous love. 
 Yet wish I thee, guided by the better starres 
 To purchase unsafe honour in the warres 
 Or envied smiles at court ; for thy great race, 
 And merits, well may challenge th' highest place. 
 Yet know, what busie path so ere you tread 
 To greatnesse, you must sleepe among the dead. 
 
152 CASTARA* 
 
 TO CASTARA, 
 
 THE TANITY OF AVARICE. 
 
 Harke ! how the traytor wind doth court 
 
 The saylors to the maine ; 
 To make their avarice his sport ; 
 A tempest checks the fond disdaine ; 
 They beare a safe though humble port, 
 
 Wee'Ie sit, my Love, upon the shore^ 
 
 And while proud billowes rise 
 To warre against the skie, speake ore 
 Our love's so sacred misteries ; 
 And charme the sea to th' calme it had before. 
 
PART FIR9T. 153 
 
 Where's now my pride to extend my fame 
 
 Where ever statues are ? 
 And purchase glory to my name 
 In the smooth court or rugged warre ? 
 My lore hath layd the devill, I am tame. 
 
 Tde rather like the violet grow 
 
 Vnmarkt i'th' shaded rale, 
 Than on the hill those terrors know 
 Are breath'd forth by an angry gale ; 
 There is more pomp above, more sweete below. 
 
 Love, thou divine philosopher 
 
 (While covetous landlords rent, 
 And courtiers dignity preferre) 
 Instructs us to a sweete content ; 
 Greatnesse it selfe doth in itselfe interre. 
 
 Castara, what is there above 
 The treasures we possesse ? 
 We two are all and one, wee move 
 Like starres in th' orbe of happinesse. 
 All blessings are epitomiz'd in love. 
 
154 CASTARA. 
 
 TO MY HONOURED FRIEND AND KINSMAN 
 
 R. ST. ESQUIRE. 
 
 It shall not grieve me (friend) though what I 
 
 write 
 Re held no wit at court. If I delight 
 So farre my sullen genius ; as to raise 
 It pleasure ; I have money, wine, and bayes 
 Enough to crowne me poet. Let those wits, 
 Who teach their Muse the art of parasits 
 To win on easie greatnesse ; or the yongue 
 Spruce lawyer, who's all impudence and tongue. 
 Sweat to divulge their fames : thereby the one 
 Gets fees; the other hyre ; I'em best unknowne : 
 Sweet silence I embrace thee, and thee Fate, 
 Which didst my birth so wisely moderate ; 
 
PART FIRST. 155 
 
 That I by want am neither vilified, 
 
 Nor yet by riches ilatter'd into pride. 
 
 Resolve me friend (for it must folly be 
 
 Or else revenge 'gainst niggard destinie, 
 
 That makes some poets raile;) AVhy are their 
 
 rimes 
 So steept in gall ? Why so obrayde the times ? 
 As if no sin call'd downe Heavn's vengeance more 
 Than cause the world leaves some few writers 
 
 poo re ? 
 Tis true, that Chapman's reverend ashes 41 must 
 Lye rudely mingled with the vulgar dust, 
 
 41 Chapman's reverend ashes, 
 
 George Chapman, the dramatic poet and translator, the 
 friend of Jonson and Sidney, died in 1634, and was buried 
 at St. Giles's in the fields. A monument -was afterwards 
 erected over his grave by Inigo Jones* 
 
 Granger has spoken slightingly of Chapman's Homer, by 
 which he is chiefly remembered, on the loose authority of 
 Pope — but we have the still higher authority of Dry den, 
 in favour of his puetical fire. His version of Hesiod's Works 
 and Days is ciose, vigorous, and elegant. Of this uncom- 
 monly scarce work, I have exhibited some specimens in the 
 appendix to my translation of Hesiod. 
 
156 CASTARA. 
 
 Cause carefull heyers the wealthy onely have, 
 
 To build a glorious trouble o're the grave. 
 
 Yet doe I not despaire, some one may be 
 
 So seriously devout to poesie. 
 
 As to translate his reliques, and finde roome 
 
 In the warme church, to build him up a tombe- 
 
 Since Spencer hath a stone; 43 and Drayton's 
 
 browes* 3 
 Stand petrified i'th' wall, with laurell bowes 
 Yet girt about ; and nigh wise Henrie's herse, 
 
 * 2 Spencer hath a stone. 
 
 Spenser was interred near Chaucer in the great South- 
 cross-aisle of Westminster Abbey, pursuant to his own 
 desire : and a monument raised to him by Robert Devereux, 
 Earl of Essex. 
 
 43 Drayton's hrovoes. 
 The bust of Drayton, in Westminster Abbey, is encircled 
 with a wreath of laurel. Drayton is seldom recollected but 
 by his Poly-Olbion : of which the accuracy is praised by 
 Nicolson ; but a chorographical poem is not very attractive ; 
 and the heavy roll of his rumbling alexandrines fatigues the 
 ear. There is much of fine poetry, however, in his other 
 pieces ; such as " The Barons' Wars," and " England's Hero- 
 ical Epistles." The whole of Drayton's poems are judiciously 
 included by Mr. Chalmers in his copious collection. 
 
PART FIRST. 157 
 
 Old Chaucer got a marble for his verse. 
 
 So courteous is Death ; Death poets brings 
 
 So high a porape, to lodge them with their kings : 
 
 Yet still they mutiny. If this man please 
 
 His silly patron with hyperboles ; 
 
 Or most mysterious non-sence give his brainc 
 
 But the strapado in some wanton straine; 
 
 Hee'Ie sweare the state lookes not on men of parts, 
 
 And, if but mention'd, slight all other arts. 
 
 Vaine ostentation ! Let us set so just 
 
 A rate on knowledge, that the world may trust 
 
 The poet's sentence, and not still aver 
 
 Each art is to it selfe a flatterer. 
 
 I write to you, sir, on this theame, because 
 
 Your soule is cleare, and you observe the lawes 
 
 Of poesie so justly, that I choose 
 
 Yours onely the example to my Muse. 
 
 And till my browner haire be mixt with gray, 
 
 Without a blush, He tread the sportive way, 
 
 My Muse directs ; a poet youth may be, 
 
 But age doth dote without philosophic 
 
158 CASTARA. 
 
 TO THE WORLD. 
 
 THE PERFECTION OF LOTE. 
 
 JL ou who are earth, and cannot rise 
 
 Above your sence, 
 Boasting the envyed wealth which lyes 
 Bright in your mistris' lips or eyes, 
 Betray a pittyed eloquence. 
 
 That, which doth joyne our soules, so light 
 
 And quicke doth more, 
 
 That, like the eagle in his flight, 
 
 It doth transcend all humane sight, 
 
 Lost in the element of love. 
 
PART FIRST. 159 
 
 You poets reach not this, who sing 
 
 The praise of dust 
 But kneaded, when by theft you bring 
 The rose and lilly from the spring, 
 T' adorne the wrincklcd face of lust. 
 
 When we speake love, nor art, nor wit 
 
 We glosse upon : 
 Our soules engender, and beget 
 Ideas which you counterfeit 
 In your dull propagation. 
 
 While time seven ages shall disperse, 
 
 Wcc'Ie talke of love, 
 And when our tongues hold no commerse 9 
 Our thoughts shall mutually converse ; 
 And yet the blood no rebell prove. 
 
 And though we be of severall kind, 
 
 Fit for offence: 
 Yet are we so by love refin'd, 
 From impure drosse we are all mind, 
 Death could not more have conquer'd sencc. 
 
160 CASTARA, 
 
 How suddenly those flames expire 
 
 Which scorch our clay ? 
 Promotheus-like 5 when we steale fire 
 From Heaven, 'tis endlesse and intire ;. 
 It may know age, but not decay. 
 
fart first; 161 
 
 TO THE WINTER. 
 
 Why dost thou looke so pale, decrepit man ? 
 Why doe thy cheeks curie like the ocean, 
 Into such furrowes? Why dost thou appeare 
 So shaking like an ague to the yeare ? 
 The Sunne is gone. But yet Castara stayes, 
 And will add stature to thy pigmy dayes, 
 Warme moysture to thy veynes; her smile can 
 
 bring 
 Thee the sweet youth, and beauty of the spring. 
 Hence with thy palsie then, and on thy head 
 Weare flowrie chaplets, as a bridegroome led 
 To th' holy fane. Banish thy aged ruth, 
 That virgins may admire and court thy youth ; 
 And the approaching Sunne, when she shall findu 
 A spring without him, fall, since uselesse, blinde. 
 
162 CASTARA. 
 
 A VISIT TO CASTARA IN THE NIGHT, 
 
 
 1 was night : when Phoebe, guided by thy raves. 
 Chaste as my zeale, with incense of her praise, 
 I humbly crept to my Castara's shrine. 
 But oh my fond mistake ! for there did shine 
 A noone of beauty, with such lustre crown'd, 
 As showd 'mong th' impious onely night is found. 
 It was her eyes which like two diamonds shin'd, 
 Brightest i'th' dark. Like which could th' Indian 
 
 find 
 But one among his rocks, he would out vie 
 In brightnesse all the diamonds of the skie. 
 But when her lips did ope, the phoenix nest 
 Breath'd forth her odours ; where might love once 
 
 feast, 
 Hee'd loath his heauenly serfets : if we dare 
 Affirme, love hath a Heaven without my faire. 
 
PART FIRST. 163 
 
 TO CASTARA, 
 
 OF THE CHASTITY OF HIS LOVE. 
 
 VV hy would you blush Castara, when the name 
 Of Love you heare ? who never felt his flaine, 
 I'th' shade of melancholly night doth stray, 
 A blind Cymmerian 44 banisht from the day. . 
 
 ** A blind Cimmerian, 
 Homer in the eleventh book of his Odyssey, v. 14, thus 
 describes the city of the Cimmerians : 
 
 the ship now reach'd the verge 
 Of the deep flowing ocean ; on that shore 
 Arose the city of Cimmerian men ; 
 With mist and darkness wrapt : nor e'er on them 
 The shining sun looks down with darted beams ; 
 Nor when he climbs the starry heavens ; nor when 
 Earthward he turns his chariot from the sky. 
 It is conjectured that the Cymmerians were a people on 
 
164 CASTAHCA. 
 
 Let's chastly love, Castara, and not soyle 
 This virgin lampe, by powring in the oyle 
 Of impure thoughts. O let us sympathize, 
 And onely talk i'th' language of our eyes, 
 Like two starres in conjunction. But beware, 
 Lest th' angels, who of love compacted are, 
 
 the western coast of Italy, who lived by plunder* and had 
 their lurking places in caves on the sea-shore. 
 
 This seems to have been a favorite allusion with our 
 early writers. Spenser in his " Teares of the Muses,'* 
 speaks of 
 
 Darknesse more than Cymmerians' daily night. 
 So also in Sidney's Arcadia : Book 3 : 
 " Let Cymmerian darkness be my only habitation." 
 In Fletcher's False One ; Act. 2. Sc. 4. We meet with 
 Oh giant-like Ambition ! wedded to 
 Cymmerian darkness ! 
 And Marston in his Scourge of Villany : b, 3, S. 10, has 
 this passage : 
 
 Dull-spighted Melancholy ! leave my brain ! — 
 To hell ! Cimmerian night ! 
 Which Warton supposes Milton to have had in his eve, when 
 he wrote 
 
 " Hence loathed Melancholy 
 * * * * * * 
 
 In dark Cimmerian desart ever dwell. 
 
 L'Allegro. 
 
PART FIRST. 166 
 
 Viewing how chastly burnes thy zealous fire, 
 Should snatch thee hence, to joyne thee to their 
 
 quire. 
 Yet take thy flight ; on Earth for surely we 
 So joyn'd, hi Heaven cannot divided be. 
 
166 
 
 CASTARA. 
 
 THE DESCRIPTION OF CASTARA. 
 
 Like the yiolet which alone 
 
 Prospers in some happy shade ; 
 
 My Castara lives unknowne, 
 
 To no looser eye betray'd, 
 For shee's to her selfe untrue, 
 Who delights i'th' publicke view. 
 
 Such is her beauty^ as no arts 
 Have enricht with borrowed grace ; 
 Her high birth no pride imparts. 
 For she blushes in her place. 
 Folly boasts a glorious blood 5 
 She is noblest, being good. 
 
PART FIRST. 167 
 
 Cautious, she knew never yet 
 
 What a wanton courtship meant ; 
 
 Not speaks loud to boast her wit, 
 
 In her silence eloquent : 
 
 Of her self survey she takes. 
 
 But 'tweene men no difference makes. 
 
 She obeyes with speedy will 
 Her grave parents' wise commands; 
 And so innocent, that ill 
 She nor acts, nor understands : 
 Women's feet runne still astray, 
 If once to ill they know the way. 
 
 She sailes by that rocke, the court, 
 Where oft honour splits her mast : 
 And retirednesse thinks the port, 
 Where her fame may anchor cast ; 
 Vertue safely cannot sit, 
 Where vice is enthron'd for wit. 
 
 She holds that daye's pleasure best, 
 Where sinne waits not on delight: 
 Without maske, or ball, or feast, 
 Sweetly spends a winter's night : 
 
168 CASTARA. 
 
 O're that darknesse, whence is thrust 
 Prayer, and sleepe oft governs lust. 
 
 She her throne makes reason elimbe, 
 While wild passions captive lie ; 
 And, each article of time. 
 Her pure thoughts to Heaven flie : 
 All her vowes religious be, 
 And her love she vowes to me. 
 
Castava* 
 
 PART THE SECOND. 
 
 Vatumque lascivos triumphos 
 Calcat amor, pede conjugali. 
 
A WIFE 
 
 Is ihe sweetest part in the harmony of our being. To the 
 love of which, as the charmes of Nature inchant us, so 
 the law of Grace by speciall priviledge invites us. With- 
 out her, man, if piety not restraine him, is the creator of 
 shine ; or, if an innated cold render him not onely the 
 businesse of the present age, the murderer of posterity. 
 She is so religious, that every day crownes her a martyr, 
 and her zeale neither rebellious nor uncivil!. Shee is so 
 true a friend, her husband may to her communicate even 
 his ambitions, and if successe crowne not expectation, 
 remaine neverthelesse uncontemn'd. Shee i* colleague 
 with him in the empire of prosperity ; and a safe retyring 
 place, when adversity exiles him from the world. Shee is 
 so chaste, she never understood the language lust speakes 
 in ; nor with a smile appiaudes it, although there appeare 
 wit in the metaphore. Shee is faire onely to winne on his 
 affections, nor would she be mistress of the most eloquent 
 beauty, if there were danger, that might persuade the 
 passionate auditory, to the least irregular thought. Shee 
 
A WIFE. 17 L 
 
 is noble by a long descent, but her memory is so evill a 
 herald, shee never boasts the story of her ancestors. Shce 
 is so moderately rich, that the defect of portion doth 
 neither bring penury to his estate, nor the superfluity 
 licence her to riot. Shee is liberall, yet owes not ruine to 
 vanity ; but knowcs charity to be the soule of goodnesse, 
 and vertue without reward often prone to bee her owne 
 destroyer. Shee is much at home, and when she visits, 'tis 
 for mutuall commerce, not for intelligence. Shee can goe 
 to court, and returne no passionate doater on bravery ; 
 and when she has seen the gay things muster up themselves 
 there, she considers them as cobwebs the spider vanity 
 hath spuune. Shee is so generall in her acquaintance, 
 that shee is familiar with all whom fame speakes vertuous ; 
 but thinkes there can bee no friendship but w ith one ; and 
 therefore hath neither shee friend nor private servant. 
 Shee so squares her passion to her husband's fortunes, that, 
 in the country, she lives without a fro ward melancholly, in 
 the towne without a fantastique pride. She is so temperate, 
 she never read the moderne pollicie of glorious surfeits: 
 since she finds nature is no epicure, if art provoke her not 
 by curiositie. Shee is inquisitive only of new ways to 
 please him, and her wit sayles by no other compasse than 
 that of his direction. Shee lookes upon him as conjurors 
 upon the circle, beyond which there is nothing but Death 
 and Hell ; and in him she beleeves Paradicecircumscrib'd. 
 His vertues are her wonder and imitation; and his errors 
 her credulitie thinkes no more frailtie, than makes him 
 descend to the title of man. In a word, shee so lives, 
 
172 A WIFE. 
 
 that shee may dye, and leave no cloude upon her memory, 
 but have her character nobly mentioned : while the bad 
 wife is flattered into infamy, and buyes pleasure at too 
 deare a rate, if she onely payes for it repentance. 
 
part g>econti. 
 
 TO CASTARA, 
 
 NOW POSSEST OF HER IN MARRIAGE. 
 
 lins day is ours. The marriage angell now 
 
 Sees th' altar, in the odour of our tow, 
 
 Yeeld a more precious breath, than that which 
 
 moves 
 The whispering leaves in the Panchayan groves. 45 
 
 45 Panchaian groves. 
 This epithet is borrowed from classical usage. In Virgil's 
 second Georgic we meet with 
 
 Totaque turiferis Panchaia pinguis arenis. v. 139 
 Panchaia, rich with incense-bearing sands. 
 
174 CASTARA. 
 
 View how his temples shine, on which he weares 
 A wreath of pearle, made of those precious teares 
 
 And in his " Gnat," 
 
 illi, Panchaia tura, 
 Floribus agrestes herbse variantibus adsunt. — 87. 
 
 The rural turf, enamell'd with its flowers, 
 To him is incense from Panehaian bowers. 
 
 Tibullus, in allusion to the Roman funeral customs, 're- 
 quests his mistress to mingle with his ashes the drugs of 
 Panchaia. 
 
 Illic, quas mittit dives Panchaia merces, 
 
 Eoique Arabes : &c. El. 2. b. 3. 
 
 Panchaia's odours be their costly feast, 
 With all the pride of Asia's fragrant year ; 
 Give them the treasures of the farthest East, 
 And what is still more precious, give thy tear. 
 
 Hammond. 
 
 Pinkerton observes, that " the peculiar boast of Arabia 
 Felix, (of which Panchaia formed a part J is the Amyris 
 opobalsamum ; from which is procured the Balm of Mecca \ 
 the most fragrant and costly of all the gum resins." Geo- 
 graph. v. 2. Arabia, chap. 1. 
 
 I am tempted to remark that the above paraphrase of 
 Tibullus is turned with a delicacy and neatness, that leave 
 every rival imitator at a distance : yet Johnson's sullen in- 
 sensibility to the plaintive sweetness, and elegant simplicity 
 of Hammond, led him to quote this stanza as an instance of 
 
PART SECOND. 175 
 
 Thou wepst a virgin, when crossc winds did blow. 
 
 Our hopes disturbing in their quiet flow. 
 
 But now Castara, smile! no envious night 
 
 Dares cnterpose itselfe, t'cclipse the light 
 
 Of our cleare joyes. For even the laws divine 
 
 Permit our mutuall love so to entwine, 
 
 That kings, to ballance true content, shall say ; 
 
 u Would they were great as we, we blest as they." 
 
 pedantic writing. Hammond professed to write imitations 
 of Tibullus; and it seems rather unreasonable to coinplain ; 
 that he did only that which he professed to do. 
 
176 CASTARA. 
 
 TO CASTARA, 
 
 UPON THE MUTUALL LOTE OF THEIR MAJESTIES, 
 
 .Did you not see Castara, when the king 
 Met his loy'd queene/ 6 what sweetnesse she did 
 bring 
 
 46 Met his lov'd queene. 
 This is an interesting passage, as it no doubt refers to a 
 real incident. There was no need of poetical compliment ; 
 for, however harsh and domineering as a sovereign, in his 
 domestic circle Charles the First was amiable and respectable. 
 " Though full of complaisance to the whole sex," observes 
 Hume, " Charles reserved all his passion for his consort ; to 
 whom he attached himself with unshaken fidelity and con- 
 fidence."' The pictures of Henrietta Maria, b} r Vandyke, 
 which are common, represent her as a woman of handsome 
 
?ART SECOND. 177 
 
 T' incountcr his brave heat ; how great a flame, 
 From their brests meeting, on the sudden came ? 
 The Stoike, who all easie passion flies, 
 Could he but heare the language of their eyes, 
 As heresies would from his faith remove 
 The tenets of his sect, and practice love. 
 The barb'rous nations, which supply the Earth 
 With a promiscuous and ignoble birth, 
 Would by this precedent correct their life ; 
 Each wisely choose, and chastely love a wife. 
 Princes' example is a law : then we, 
 If loyall subjects^ must true lovers be. 
 
 features, with great delicacy of complexion and beauty of 
 shape ; particularly in regard to her hands and arras; and 
 with a keenness of physiognomy natural to a daughter of 
 Henri quatre. 
 
 J* 
 
178 CASTARA. 
 
 TO ZEPHIRUS. 
 
 Whose whispers soft as those which lovers 
 
 breathe, 
 Castara and my selfe I here bequeath 
 To the calme wind. For Heaven such joyes afford 
 To her and me, that there can be no third : 
 And you, kinde starres, be thriftier of your light ; 
 Her eyes supply your office with more bright 
 And constant lustre. Angels guardians, like 
 The nimbler ship boyes, shall be joy'd to strike 
 Or hoish up saile : nor shall our vessell move 
 By card or compasse, but a heavenly love. 
 The couresie of this most prosperous gale 
 Shall swell our canvas, and wee'le swiftly saile 
 
TART SECOND. 179 
 
 To some blest port, where ship hath never lane 
 At anchor, whose chaste soile no footprophane 
 Hath ever trod ; where Nature doth dispence 
 Her infant wealth, a beauteous innocence. 
 Pompe, (even a burthen to it self) nor pride, 
 (The magistrate of sinnes) did c're abide 
 On that so sacred earth. Ambition ne're 
 Built, for the sport of ruine, fabrickes there. 
 Thence age and death are exil'd, all offence 
 And fear expell'd, all noyse and faction thence. 
 A silence there so melancholly sweet, 
 That none but whispering turtles ever meet : 
 Thus Paradise did our first parents wooe 
 To harmlesse sweets, at first possest by two. 
 And o're this second wee'le usurpe the throne ; 
 Castara wee'le obey, and rule alone. 
 For the rich vertue of this soyle, I feare, 
 Would be deprav'd, should but a third be there. 
 
 N 1 
 
180 €ASTARA. 
 
 " 
 
 TO CASTARA IN A TRANCE. 
 
 X orsake me not so soone. Castara stay, 
 And as I breake the prison of my clay, 
 I'le fill the canvas with m' expiring breath. 
 And with thee saile o're the vast maine of Death. 
 Some cherubin thus, as we passe, shall play : 
 u Goe happy twins of love [*' the courteous sea 
 Shall smooth her wrinkled brow ; the winds shall 
 
 sleep. 
 Or onely whisper musicke to the deepe. 
 Every ungentle rocke shall melt away, 
 The Syrens sing to please, not to betray. 
 Th' indulgent skie shall smile : each starry quire 
 Contend^ which shall afford the brighter fire. 
 While Love, the pilot, steeres his course so even 
 Ne're to cast anchor till we reach at Heaven, 
 
PART SECOND. 181 
 
 TO DEATH, 
 
 CASTARA. BEING SICKE. 
 
 Hence, prophane grim man! nor dare 
 To approach so neere my faire. 
 Marble vaults, and gloomy caves, 
 Church-yards, charncll-houses, graves, 
 Where the living loath to be, 
 Heaven hath design'd to thee. 
 
 But if needs 'mongst us thou'lt rage, 
 Let thy fury feed on age. 
 Wriuckled browes, and withered thighs., 
 May supply thy sacrifice. 
 Yet, perhaps, as thou flew'st by, 
 A flamed dart, shot from her eye, 
 
182 CASTARA, 
 
 Sing'd thy wings with wanton fire, 
 Whence th'art forc't to hover nigh her. 
 If Love so mistooke his aime. 
 Gently welcome in the flame : 
 They who loath'd thee, when they see 
 Where thou harbor'st, will love thee. 
 Onely I, such is my fate, 
 Must thee as a rivall hate ; 
 Court her gently, learn to prove 
 Nimble in the thefts of love. 
 Gaze on th' errors of her haire : 
 Touch her lip - but, oh ! beware, 
 Lest too ravenous of thy bliss, 
 Thou shouldst murder with akisse. 47 
 
 *? Thou shouldst murder with a kiss. 
 Milton has precisely the same conceit applied to Winter, 
 The whole of the stanza is so beautiful, that it merits quo- 
 tation. 
 
 O fairest flower ! no sooner blown but blasted; 
 
 Soft silken primrose fading timelessly, 
 Summer's chief honour, if thou hadst outlasted 
 
 Bleak Winter's force, that made thy blossom dry ; 
 For he, being am'rous on that lively dye, 
 
 That did thy cheek envermeil, thought to kiss, 
 But kill'd alas ! and then bewaiPd his fatal bliss. 
 
 Ode on the death of a fair Infant. 
 
PART SECOND. 183 
 
 Shakspeare, in his Venus and uddonis, has a line which 
 is thought by Newton to have suggested the idea to Milton : 
 
 He thought to kiss him, and hath kill'd him so. 
 The same occurs in a stanza of " The Purple Island," by 
 Phincas Fletcher : — 
 
 Thus Orpheus wanne his lost Eurydice; 
 Whom some deaf snake, that could no music heare, 
 Or some blinde neut, that could no beautie see, 
 Thinking to kisse, kill'd with his forked spear. 
 
 Cant. v. st. 61. 
 This stanza involves a singular contradiction : for the 
 " thinking to kiss" certainly implies that the snake could 
 hear, and that the neut could see. 
 
184 CASTARA, 
 
 TO CASTARA, 
 
 INVITING HER TO SLEEPE. 
 
 oleepe, my Castara! silence doth invite 
 
 Thy eyes to close up day ; though envious Night 
 
 Grieves Fate should her the sight of them debarre ; 
 
 For shee is exil'd, while they open are. 
 
 Rest in thy peace secure. With drowsie charmes 
 
 Kinde sleepe bewitcheth thee into her armes ; 
 
 And finding where Love's chiefest treasure lies. 
 
 Is like a theefe stole under thy bright eyes. 
 
 Thy innocence rich as the gaudy quilt 
 
 Wrought by the Persian hand, thy dreames from 
 
 guilt 
 Exempted, Heaven with sweete repose doth crowne 
 Each vertue softer than the swan's fam'd downe. 
 As exorcists wild spirits mildly lay, 
 May sleepe thy fever calmly chase away. 
 
PART SECOND. 185 
 
 VPON CASTARA'S RECOVEUIE. 
 
 >Siie is rcstor'd to life. Vnthrifty Death, 
 Thy mercy in permitting vitall breath 
 Backe to Castara, hath enlarg'd us all, 
 Whom griefe had martyr'd in her funerall. 
 While others Id the ocean of their teares 
 Had, sinking, wounded the beholders' eares 
 With exclamations : I, without a grone, 
 Had suddenly congeal'd into a stone : 
 There stood a statue, till the general doome 
 Had ruin'd time and memory with her tombe ; 
 While in my heart, which marble, yet still bled, 
 Each lover might this epitaph have read : 
 
 " Her earth lyes here below; her soul's above ; 
 
 This wonder speakes her vertue, and my love." 
 
186 CASTARA. 
 
 TO A FRIEND, 
 
 INTITING HIM TO A MEETING UPON PROMISE. 
 
 .May you drinke beare 4S or that adult'rate wine 
 Which makes the zeale of Amsterdam divine, 
 If you make breach of promise. I have now 
 So rich a sacke 5 that even yourselfe will bow 
 T' adore my genius. Of this wine should Prynne 
 Drinke but a plenteous glasse 5 he would beginne 
 
 4S May you drink beare. 
 So Herrick, in his " Welcome to sack :" 
 Call me " the son of beer*" 
 
PART SECOND. 187 
 
 A health to Shakespeare's ghost. 49 But you ma/ 
 
 bring 
 Some excuse forth, and answer me, the king 
 
 * 9 A health to Shakspearc's ghost. 
 
 This is an allusion to William Prynne's " IJistriomastix:" , 
 for the publication of which the author was sentenced by the 
 iniquitous court of star-chamber to pay a fine to the king of 
 five thousand pounds; to be degraded from his profession of 
 the law, and to lose his ears in the pillory. Whitlocke, 
 commenting on the severity of this treatment, remarks that 
 " the book was licensed by Archbishop Abbott's chaplain; 
 but being again?t plays, and a reference in the table of the 
 book to this effect, Women actors notorious ivhores, relating 
 to some women actors mentioned in his book, as he affirm- 
 eth ; it happened that, about six weeks after this, the queen 
 acted a part in a pastoral at Somerset-house ; and then 
 Archbishop Laud and other prelates, whom Pryane had an- 
 gered by some books of his againstArminianism, and against 
 the jurisdiction of bishops, these prelates and their instru- 
 ments, the next day after the queene had acted her pastoral, 
 showed Prynues book against plays to the king; and that 
 place in it, " women actors notorious whores :" and they 
 informed the kiDg and queen, that Prynse had written this 
 book against the queen and her pastoral : whereas it was 
 published six weeks before that pastoral was acted." 
 
 Prynne wrote, also, a quarto volume against the unseem- 
 liness of love-locks : a name given to one lock, which was 
 
188 CASTARA. 
 
 To day will giye you audience, or that on 
 Affaires of state you and some serious don 
 Are to resolve ; or else perhaps you'le sin 
 So farre, as to leave word y' are not within. 
 
 The least of these will make me onely thinke 
 Him subtle, who can in his closet drinke, 
 Drunke even alone, and, thus made wise, create 
 As dangerous plots as the Low Countrey state ; 
 Projecting for such baits, as shall draw ore 
 To Holland all the Herrings from our shore. 
 
 But y'are too full of candour : and I know 
 Will sooner stones atSalis'bury casements throw, 50 
 
 suffered to grow to a greater length than the rest, and to fall 
 over the cheek. Charles the first himself patronised the 
 fashion of love-locks. 
 
 " This voluminous rhapsodist, says Granger, gave his 
 ■works, in forty volumes folio and quarto, to the society of 
 Lincoln's Inn." 
 
 5<) Salisbury's casements. 
 This must have been suggested b\ a circumstance men- 
 tioned by Hume. " It was much remarked, that Sherfield, 
 the recorder of Salisbury, was tried in (he court of the star- 
 cbamber, for having broken, contrary to the Bishop of 
 Salisbury's express injunctions, a painted window of St. 
 
PART SrCOND. ]f>0 
 
 Or buy up for the silenc'd Lcvits 51 all 
 The rich impropriations, than let pall 
 So pure Canary, and brcake such an oath : 
 Since charity is sinn'd against in both. 
 
 Conic, therefore, blest even in the Lollard's 
 zcale, 
 Who canst, with conscience safe, 52 'fore hen and 
 
 veale 
 Say grace in Latine; while I faintly sing 
 A penitentiall verse in oyle and ling. 
 
 Kdmond's church in that city. He boasted that he had des- 
 trojed those monuments of idolatry; but for this effort of 
 his zeal he was fined five hundred pounds. '* Charles I. 
 ann. 1630. 
 
 51 Silenct Levites. 
 The ministers who were silenced, and deprived of their 
 livings, on a refusal to comply with the popish ceremoniei 
 introduced by Laud into the church. 
 
 ^2 Who canst with conscience safe. 
 A satire on the reformists ; who rigidly objected to 
 saying grace in Latin, as was the custom of the Roman 
 Catholics. The LoJlards also rejected the use of the Romish 
 Penitential. 
 
190 CASTARA. 
 
 Come, then, and bring with you, prepar'd fop 
 
 fight, 
 Vnniixt Canary; Heaven send both prove right! 
 This I am sure : my sacke will disengage 
 All humane thoughts, inspire so high a rage ; 
 ThatHypocrene shall henceforth poets lacke, 
 Since more enthusiasmes are in my sacke. 
 Heightned with which, my raptures shall commend 
 How good Castara is, how deare my friend. 
 
PART SECOND. 191 
 
 TO CASTARA, 
 
 WHERE TRUE HAPPINESS ABIDES. 
 
 Castara, whisper in some dead man's care 
 This subtill quaere; and hee'le point out where, 
 By answers negative, true joyes abide. 
 Heele say they flow not on the uncertainc tide 
 Of greatnesse, they can no firme basis have 
 Vpon the tripidation of a wave. 
 Nor lurke they in the caverns of the earth, 
 Whence all the wealthy minerals draw their birth, 
 To covetous man so fatall. Nor i' th' grace 
 Love they to wanton of a brighter face, 
 For th'are above time's battery, and the light 
 Of beauty, age's cloud will soone be night. 
 If among these content, he thus doth prove, 
 Hath no abode ; where dwells it but in love ? 
 
192 eASTARA. 
 
 TO CASTARA. 
 
 J orsake with me the Earth, my faire, , 
 And travel nimbly through the aire, 
 Till we have reacht th' admiring skies ; 
 Then lend sight to those heavenly eyes 
 Which, blind themselves, make creatures see: 
 And taking view of all, when we 
 Shall finde a pure and glorious spheare, 
 Wee'le fix like starres for ever there. 
 Nor will we still each other view, 
 Wee'le gaze on lesser starres than you ; 
 See how by their weake influence they 
 The strongest of men's actions sway. 
 In an inferior orbe below 
 Wee'le see Calisto loosely throw 
 
 
1>ART SECOND. 193 
 
 i— i r m ii n. .1. . i . i ., ■ j 
 
 Ilcr hairc abroad : as she did weare 
 The selfe-same beauty in a Beare, 
 As when she a cold virgin stood, 
 And yet inflam'd love's lustfull blood* 
 Then looke on Lede, whose faire beames, 
 By their reflection, guild those streamcs, 
 Where first unhappy she began 
 To play the wanton with a swan. 
 If each of these loose beauties are 
 Transform'd to a more beauteous starre, 
 By the adulterous lust of love ; 
 Why should" not we, by purer love ? 
 
M4 CASTARA. 
 
 TO CASTARA, 
 
 UPON THE DEATH OF A LADY. 
 
 Castara, weepe not, tho' her tombe appeare 
 Sometime thy griefe to answer with a teare : 
 The marble will but wanton with thy woe. 
 Death is the sea, and we like rivers flow 
 To lose our selves in the insatiate maine, 
 Whence rivers may, she ne're returne againe. 
 ^Nor grieve this christall streame so soone did fall 
 Into the ocean ; since shee perfum'd all 
 The banks she past, so that each neighbour field 
 Did sweete flowers, cherish, by her watring, yeeld. 
 Which now adorne her hearse. The violet there 
 On her pale chceke doth the sad livery weare, 
 
r/YRT SECOND. 195 
 
 Which Heaven's compassion gave her : and since 
 
 she, 
 'Cause cloath'd in purple, can no mourner be, 
 As incense to the tombe she gives hftr breath, 
 And fading on her lady waits in death : 
 Such office (he ./Egyptian handmaids did 
 Great Cleopatra, when she dying chid 
 The asp's slow venom, trembling she should be 
 By Fate rob'd even of that blacke victory. 
 The flowers instruct our sorrowcs. Come, then, all 
 Ye beauties, to true beautie's funerall, 
 And with her to increase death's pompe, decay. 
 Since the supporting fabricke of your clay 
 Is falne, how can ye stand ? How can the night 
 Show stars, when Fate puts out the daye's great 
 
 light? 
 But 'mong the faire, if there live any yd, 
 She's but the fairer Digbie's counterfeit. 
 Come you, who speake your titles. Reade in this 
 Pale booke, how vaine a boast your greatnesse is : 
 What's honour but a hatchment ? What is here 
 0f Percy left, and Stanly, 53 names most deare 
 
 53 Stanly. 
 Venetia Anastatia Stanley ; daughter of Sir Edward Stan- 
 
196 CASTARA. 
 
 To yertue ! but a crescent tum'd to th' wane, 54 
 An eagle groaning o're an infant slain ? 
 
 ley, of Tongue Castle, in Shropshire ; by Lady Lucy Percy, 
 one of the five daughters and co-heirs of Thoma?, seventh 
 Earl of Northumberland. She married Sir Kenelm Digby, 
 the celebrated philosopher, and inventor of the sympathetic 
 powder. 
 
 At Gothurst, in Buckinghamshire, the seat of the Digby 
 family, is a picture of Lady Venetia, described by Pennant, 
 in his " Journey from Chester to London ;" as " in a Roman 
 habit with curled locks. In one hand a serpent ; the other 
 is on a pair of white doves. She is painted at Windsor in 
 the same emblematic manner ; but in a different dress, and 
 with accompaniments explanatory of the emblems. The 
 doves show her iunocency. The serpent, which she handles 
 with impunity, shows her triumph over the envenomed 
 tongues of the times. We know not the particulars of the 
 story. Lord Clarendon must allude to her exculpation of 
 the charge, whatever it was, when he mentions her as "a 
 lady of extraordinary beauty, and of as extraordinary 
 fame." 
 
 " Sir Kenelm was so enamoured of her beauty, that he 
 was said to have attempted to exalt her charms, and pre- 
 serve her health, by a variety of whimsical experiments. 
 Among others, that of feeding her with capons fed with 
 the flesh of vipers: and that to improve her complexion, 
 he was perpetually inventing new cosmetics. Probably she 
 
tart sr.coxn. 197 
 
 Or what availes her, that she once was led, 
 A glorious bride, to valiant Digbie's bed, 
 Since dealh hath them divorc'd ? If then alive 
 There arc, who these sad obsequies survive, 
 And vaunt a proud descent, they onely be 
 Loud heralds to set forth her pedigree* 
 Come all, who glory in your wealth, and view 
 The embleme of your frailty ! How untrue 
 (Tho' flattering like friends) your treasures are 
 Her fate hath taught: who, when what ever rare 
 The either Indies boast, lay richly spread 
 For her to weare, lay on her pillow dead. 
 Come likewise, my Castara, and behold 
 What blessings ancient prophesie foretold, 
 
 fell a victim to these arts; for she was found dead in bed, 
 May 1st, 1633, in the 33d year of her age." 
 
 Pennant has given an engraving, from a bust of this 
 lady ; in the dress of the times. It is inscribed 
 
 Uxorem amare vivam, voluptas ^ -defunctam, religio. 
 
 A wife, when living, is loved from the sentiment of plea- 
 sure ; when dead, from that of piety. 
 
 5* A crescent turnd to tlC wane. 
 The crescent was the badge of the Earls of Northum- 
 berland : the crest of Stanley, Earl of Derby, is an eagle 
 with wings expanded, preying upon an infant in its cradle. 
 
198 CASTAKA, 
 
 Bestow'd on her in death. She past away 
 So sweetly from the world, as if her clay 
 iLaid onely down to slumber. Then forbeare 
 To let on her blest ashes fall a teare. 
 But if th' art too much woman, softly weepe, 
 Leste griefe disturbe the silence of her sleepe. 
 
PART SECOND. 199 
 
 TO CASTARA, 
 
 BEING TO TAKE A JOURNEY. 
 
 VV hat's death more than departure ? The dead go 
 Like travelling exiles, compelPd to know 
 Those regions they heard mention of: 'tis th' art 
 Of sorrowes sayes, who dye doe but depart. 
 Then weepe thy funerall teares ; Which Heaven, 
 
 t' adorne 
 The beauteous tresses of the weeping mornc, 
 Will rob me of: and thus my tombe shall be 
 As naked, as it had no obsequie. 
 Know in these lines, sad musicke to thy care, 
 My sad Castara, you the sermon heare 
 Which I preach o're my hearse; and dead I tell 
 My owne life's story, ring but my ownc knell. 
 But when I shall returne, know 'tis thy breath. 
 In sighs divided, rescues me from death. 
 
200 CASTARA. 
 
 TO CASTARA, 
 
 WEEPING. 
 
 Castara ! O you are to prodigal! 
 
 O' th' treasure of your teares; which, thus let fall, 
 
 Make no returne : well plac'd, calme peace might 
 
 bring 
 To the loud wars ; each free a captiv'd king. 
 So the unskilfull Indian those bright jems, 
 Which might adde majestie to diadems, 
 5 Mong the waves scatters, as if he would store 
 The thanklesse sea, to make our empire poore : 
 Wheu Heaven darts thunder at the wombe of time. 
 Cause with each moment it brings forth a crime, 
 Or else despairing to root out abuse, 
 Would ruine vitious Earth ; be then profuse. 
 Light chas'd rude chaos from the world before, 
 Thy teares, by hindring its returne, worke more. 
 
part second; 201 
 
 TO CASTARA, 
 
 UPON A SIGH. 
 
 I heard a sigh, and something in my eare 
 
 Did whisper what my soule before did feare, 
 
 That it was breath'd by thee. May th' easie Spring, 
 
 Enricht with odours., wanton on the wing 
 
 Of th' eastcrne wind ; may ne're his beauty fade, 
 
 If he the treasure of this breath convey'd : 
 
 'Twas thine by th' musicke, which th' harmonious 
 
 breath 
 Of swans is like, propheticke in their death : 
 And th' odour ; for as it the nard expires, 
 Perfuming, phenix-like, his funerall fires. 
 The winds of Paradice send such a gale, 
 To make the lover's vessels calmely saile 
 To his lov'd port. This shall, where it inspires, 
 Increase the chaste, extinguish unchaste fires. 
 
202 CASTARA. 
 
 THE RIGHT HONOURABLE 
 
 THE LADY F. 
 
 MADAM, 
 
 JL ou saw our loves, and prais'd the mutuall flame : 
 In which as incense to your sacred name 
 Burnes a religious zeale. May we be lost 
 To one another, and our fire be frost, 
 When we omit to pay the tribute due 
 To worth and virtue, and in ihein to you : 
 Who are the soule of women. Others be 
 But beauteous parts o'th' female body : she 
 Who boasts how many nimble Cupids skip 
 Through her bright face, is but an eye or lip ; 
 The other, who in her soft brests can show 
 Warme violets growing in a bank of snow, 
 
PART SECOND. 203 
 
 And vaunts the lovely wonder, is but skin : 
 Nor is she but a hand, who holds within 
 The ehrystall violl of her wealthy palme, 
 The precious sweating of the eastern e balme. 
 And all these, if you them together take, 
 And joyne with heart, w ill but one body make, 
 To which the soul each vitall motion gives ; 
 You are infus'd into it, and it lives. 
 But should you up to your blest mansion flie, 
 How loath'd an object would the carkasse lie? 
 You are all mind. Castara, when she lookes 
 On you, th' epitome of all, that bookcs 
 Or e're tradition taught ; who gives such praise 
 V r nto your sex, that now even custome sayes 
 He hath a female soule, who ere hath writ 
 Volumes which learning comprehend, and wit. 
 Castara cries to me : " Search out and find 
 The mines of wisdom in her learned mind, 
 And trace her steps to honour: I aspire 
 Enough to worth, while I her worth admire." 
 
204 CAST All A. 
 
 TO CASTARA, 
 
 AGAINST OPINIOX. 
 
 VV hy should we build, Castara, in the aire 
 Of fraile Opinion ? Why admire as faire, 
 What the weake faith of man give us for right ? 
 The juggling world cheats but the weaker sight. 
 What is in greatnesse happy ? As free mirth. 
 As ample pleasures of th' indulgent Earth, 
 We joy who on the ground our mansion finde, 
 As they, who saile, like witches, in the wind 
 Of court applause. What can their powerful spell 
 Over inchan ted man more than compel 
 Him into various formes? Nor serves their charme 
 Themselves to good, but to worke others harme. 
 Tyrant Opinion but depose ; and we 
 Will absolute i' th' happiest empire be. 
 
part second; 206 
 
 TO CASTARA, 
 
 VTON BEAUTIE. 
 
 Castara, sec that dust, the sportive wind 
 
 So wantons with. 'Tis happ'ly all you'le finde 
 
 Left of some beauty : and how still it flies, 
 
 To trouble, as it did in life, our eyes, 
 
 O empty boast of flesh ! though our heires gild 
 
 The farre fetch' t Phrigian marble, which shall 
 
 build 
 A burthen to our ashes, yet will death 
 Betray them to the sport of every breath. 
 Dost thou, poore relique of our frailty, still 
 Swell up with glory r Or is it thy skill 
 To mocke weake mau, whom every wind of praise 
 Into the aire, doth 'bove his center raise ? 
 If so, mocke on ; and tell him that his lust 
 To beautie's madnesse ; for it courts but dust. 
 
206 CASTARA. 
 
 TO CASTARA, 
 
 MELANCHOLLY. 
 
 Were but that sigh a penitential breath 
 That thou art mine, it would blow with it dcathy 
 T' inclose me in my marble, where X'de be 
 Slave to the tyrant wormes, to set thee free. 
 What should we envy ? Though with larger saile 
 Some dance upon the ocean; yet more fraile 
 And faithlesse is that wave, than where we glide 
 Blest in the safety of a private tide. 
 We still have land in ken ; and 'cause our boat 
 Dares not affront the weather, wee'le ne're float 
 Farre from the shore. To daring- them each cloud 
 Is big with thunder ; cwery wind speaks loud ; 
 And rough wild rockes about the shore appeared 
 Yet virtue will find roome to anchor there. 
 
PART SECOND. 207 
 
 A DIALOGUE, 
 
 BETWEENE ARArilILL AND CASTARA. 
 
 ARAPIIILL. 
 
 Castara, you too fondly court 
 
 The silken peace with which wc coYcr'd are : 
 Unquiet Time may, for his sport, 
 
 Up from its iron den rouse sleepy Warre. 
 
 CASTARA. 
 
 Then, in the language of the drum, 
 I will instruct my yet affrighted eare : 
 
 All women shall in me be dumbe, 
 If I but with my Araphill be there. 
 
208 CASTARA, 
 
 ARAPHILL. 
 
 If Fate, like an unfaithful gale, 
 
 Which haying vow'd to th' ship a faire eyent, 
 O' th' sudden rends her hopefull saile, 
 
 Blow ruine ; will Castara then repent ? 
 
 CASTARA. 
 
 Lore shall in that tempestuous showre 
 
 Her brightest blossome like the black-thorne 
 show : 
 
 Weake friendship prospers by the powre 
 
 Of Fortune's sunne : I'le in her winter grow. 
 
 ARAPHILL. 
 
 If on my skin the noysorae skar 
 
 I should o' th' leprosie or canker weare ; 
 
 Or, if the sulph'rous breath of warre 
 
 Should blast my youth : should I not be thy 
 feare ? 
 
 CASTARA. 
 
 In flesh may sicknesse horror more, 
 But heavenly zeale will be by it refin'd ; 
 
 For then wee'd like to angels love, 
 
 Without a sense; embrace each other's mind. 
 
PART9EC0ND. 209 
 
 ARAPHILL. 
 
 Were it not impious to repine, 
 
 'Gainst rigid Fate I should direct my breath : 
 That two must be, whom Heaven did joyne 
 
 In such a happy one, disjoin'd by death. 
 
 CASTARA. 
 
 That's no divource. Then shall we see 
 
 The rites in life were types o' th' marriage 
 state : 
 
 Our souls on Earth contracted be: 
 
 But they in Heaven their nuptials consumate. 
 
2l0 CASTARA, 
 
 TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE 
 
 LORD M. 5 * 
 
 JM y thoughts are not so rugged, nor doth earth 
 So farre predominate in me, that mirth 
 
 *& Lord Morley, 
 
 Elizabeth, daughter and sole heir of Thomas Stanley, 
 son of Sir Edward Stanley, Lord Monieagle, by his first 
 wife Mary, daughter of Charles Brandon, Duke of Suffolk, 
 married Edward Parker, Lord Morley ; whose son William 
 by her was Lord Morley and Monteagle. 
 
 Alianore, daughter and coheir of Robert Lord Morley, 
 (son of Thomas Lord Morley, by his wife Isabel, daughter 
 and co-heir of Michael de la Pole, duke of Suffolk) brought 
 to William Lord Lovel her husband, the baronies of Morley, 
 Marshall, Hengham, and Rhie. 
 
 Collinses Peerage, Vol. 7. 
 
 The epithet happy Brandon, relates to Sir Charles Bian* 
 
part sf.coxd: 211 
 
 Lookes not as lovely as when our delight 
 First fashion'd wings to addo a nimbler flight 
 To lazie Time : who would, to have survai'd 
 Our varied pleasvres, there have ever staid. 
 And they were harmlesse. For obedience, 
 If frailty yeelds to the wild lavves of sense, 
 We shall but with a sugred venomc meete : 
 No pleasure, if not innocent as sweet. 
 And that's your choyce : who adde the title good 
 To that of noble. For although the blood 
 Of Marshall, Standley, and La Pole doth flow, 
 With happy Brandon's, in your veins ; you owe 
 Your vertue not to them. Man builds alone 
 O' th' ground of honour: for desert's our owne. 
 Be that your ayme. PJe with Castara sit 
 I' th' shade, from heat of businesse. While my 
 wit 
 
 don, the favourite of Henry 8tji ; who was created Duke 
 of Suffolk for his services at the battle of Flodden. u He 
 " was," says Hume, " the most comely personage of his 
 " time, and the most accomplished in all the exercises, 
 " which were then thought to befit a courtier and a 
 " soldier." . 
 
212 CASTARA, 
 
 Is neither big with an ambitious ayme 
 
 To build tall pyramids i' th' court of Fame, 
 
 For after ages, or to win conceit 
 
 O' th' present, and grow in opinion great. 
 
 Rich in ourselves, we envy not tha East 
 
 Her rockes of diamonds, 66 or her gold the West. 
 
 Arabia may be happy in the death 
 
 Of her reviving phenix : in the breath 
 
 Of cool Favonius, famous be the grove 
 
 Of Tempe : while we in each other's love. 
 
 For that let us be fam'd. And when, of all 
 
 That Nature made us two, the funerall 
 
 Leaves but a little dust, (which then as wed, 
 
 Even after death, shall sleepe still in one bed :) 
 
 56 Jjer rockes of diamonds* 
 In Peacham's " Period of Mourning," 1613, Vis. \\. we 
 meet with 
 
 christall lights, that show 
 
 Against the sunne, like rockes of diamond. 
 G. Fletcher, Christ. 's Vict. st. 61. has " main rockes of 
 M diamond." 
 
 And the Spirit in Comus thus adjures Sabrina : 
 By fair Ligea's golden comb, 
 Wherewith she sits on diamond rockes, 
 Sleeking her smooth alluring locks. 
 
TART SFXOND. 213 
 
 The bride and bridegroomc, on the solemne day, 
 Shall with warmc zeale approach our urnc, to pay 
 Their rowes, that Heaven should blisse so far 
 
 their rites, 
 To show them the fairc paths to our delights. 
 
214 CASTARA. 
 
 TO A TOMBE. 
 
 Jlyrant O' re tyrants, thou who onely dost 
 
 Clip the lascivious beauty without lust : 
 
 What horrour at thy sight shootes thro' each 
 
 sence ! 
 How powerfull is thy silent eloquence, 
 Which never flatters ! Thou instruct'st the proud. 
 That their swolne porape is but an empty cloud, 
 Slave to each wind ; the faire, those flowers, they 
 
 have 
 Fresh in their cheeke, are strewd upon a grave : 
 Thou tell'st the rich, their idoll is but earth : 
 The vainely pleas'd, that syren-like their mirth 
 Betrays to mischiefe, and that onely he 
 Dares welcome death, whose aimes at virtue be. 
 
 Which yet more zeale doth to Castara move ; 
 
 What checks me, when the torabe perswades to 
 love ? 
 
PA11T SECOND. 216 
 
 TO CASTARA, 
 
 UPON THOUGHT OF AGE AND DEATH, 
 
 The breath of Time shall blast the ilow'ry spring, 
 Which so perfumes thy cheekc, and with it bring 
 So darke a mist, as shall eclipse the light 
 Of thy faire eyes in an eternal night. 
 Some melancholy chamber of the earth, 
 (For that like Time devours whom it gave birth) 
 Thy beauties shall entombe,, whrle all who ere 
 Loi'd nobly, oner up their sorrowes there. 
 But I, whose griefe no formal limits bound, 
 Beholding the darke caverne of that ground, 
 Will there immure my selfe. And thus I shall 
 Thy mourner be, and my owne funerall. 
 Else by the weeping magicke of my verse. 
 Thou hadst reviv'd to triumph o're thy hearse. 
 
216 GASTARA. 
 
 TO THE RIGHT HONORABLE THE 
 
 LORD P.* 
 
 My Lord, 
 
 1 he reverend man, by magicke of his prayer. 
 
 Hath charm'd so, that I and your daughter are 
 
 Contracted into one. The holy lights 
 
 SmiPd with a cheerful lustre on our rites, 
 
 And every thing presag'd full happinesse 
 
 To mutual love, if you'le the omen blesse. 
 
 Nor grieve, my lord, 'tis perfected. Before 
 
 Afflicted seas sought refuge on the shore 
 
 From the angry north wind ; ere the astonisbt 
 
 spring 
 Heard in the ayre the feather'd people siug ^ 
 
 . . . ■ 
 * William Lord Porcis, 
 
 
PART SECOND. 217 
 
 Ere time had motion, or the Sunne obtainM 
 His province o're the day, this was ordaiu'd. 
 Nor think in her I courted wealth or blood, 
 Or more uncertain hopes : for had I stood 
 On th' highest grouud of Fortune, the world 
 
 knownc 
 No grcatnesse but what waited on my throne ; 
 And she had onely had that face and mind, 
 I, with my selfe, had th' Earth to her resign'd. 
 In vertuc there's an empire : And so swecte 
 The rule is when it doth with beauty meete, 
 As fellow consul, that of Heaven they 
 Nor Earth partake, who would her disobey. 
 This captiv'd me. And ere I question'd why 
 I ought to love Castara, through my eye 
 This soft obedience stole into my heart. 
 Then found I Love might lend to th' quick-ey'd 
 
 art 
 Of reason yet a purer sight : for he, 
 Tho' blind, taught her these Indies first to see> 
 In whose possession I at length am blest ; 
 And with my selfe at quiet, here I rest, 
 As all things to my powre subdu'd. To me 
 There's nought beyond this. The whole world is 
 
 she. 
 
218 CASTARA. 
 
 HIS MUSE SPEAKS TO HIM. 
 
 Ihy vowes are heard, and thy Castara's name 
 7s writ as faire i' th' register of Fame, 
 As th' ancient beauties which translated are 
 By poets up to Heaven : each there a starre. 
 And though imperiall Tiber boast alone 
 Ovid's Corinna, and to Arne is knowne 
 But Petrarch's Laura; while our famous Thames 
 Doth murmur Sydney's Stella to her streames ; 
 Yet hast thou Severne left, and she can bring 
 As many quires of swans as they to sing 
 Thy glorious love : which, living, shall, by ihce 
 The only sovereign of those waters be : 
 
 Dead, in love's firmament no starre shall shine 
 So nobly faire, so purely chaste as thine. 
 
PART SECOND. 219 
 
 TO VAIN HOPE. 
 
 liiou dream of madmen, ever changing gale, 
 Swell with thy wanton breath the gaudy saile 
 Of glorious fooles ! Thou guid'st them who thee 
 
 court 
 To rocks, to quick-sands, or some faithlesse port* 
 Were I not mad, who, when secure at ease, 
 I might i' th' cabbin passe the raging seas, 
 Would like a franticke ship-boy wildly haste 
 To climbe the giddy top of th' unsafe mast ? 
 Ambition never to her hopes did faine 
 A greatnesse, but I really obtaine 
 In my Castara. Wer't not fondnesse then 
 T' imbrace the shadowes of true blisse ? And wh«a 
 My Paradise all flowers and fruits doth breed, 
 To rob a barren garden for a weed ? 
 
220 CASTARA. 
 
 TO CASTARA, 
 
 HOW HAPPY, THOUGH IN AN OBSCURE FORTUNE. 
 
 Were we by Fate throwne downe below our 
 
 feare, 
 Could we be poore ? Or question Nature's care 
 In our provision ? She who doth afford 
 A feathered garment fit for every bird, 57 
 
 M A feather 'd garment fit for every bird.. 
 This is obviously a paraphrase of the beautiful passage 
 
 in St. Matthew, ch. vi. 
 
 Behold the fowls of the air : for they sow not, neither 
 
 do they reap, nor gather into barns: jet your heavenly 
 
 father feedeth them. Are not ye much better than they ? 
 And why take ye thought for raiment ? Consider the 
 
 lillies of the field ; how they grow: they toil not neither do 
 
PART SECOND. 221 
 
 And only voyce enough V expressc delight : 
 She who apparels lillies in their white, 
 As if in that she'dc teach man's duller sence, 
 Wh' are highest should be so in innocence : 
 She who in damask doth attire the rose, 
 (And man V himsclfc a mockery to propose, 
 'Mong whom the humblest iudges grow to sit) 
 She who in purple cloathes the violet : 
 
 If thus she cares for things even voyd of sencc 5 
 Shall we suspect in us her providence ? 
 
 they spin : And yet I say unto you, that even Solomon, in 
 all his glory, was not arrayed like one of these. 
 
 Wherefore, if God so clothe the grass of the field, which 
 to-day is, and to-morrow is cast into the oven, shall he not 
 much more clothe you, oh ye of little faith ? 
 
 - 
 
222 CAST Alt A. 
 
 TO CASTARA. 
 
 \v hat can the freedome of our love enthral I 
 
 Castara, were we dispossest of all 
 
 The gifts of Fortune : richer yet than she 
 
 Can make her slaves, wee'd in each other be. 
 
 Lore in himself's a world* If we should hare 
 
 A mansion but in some forsaken cave, 
 
 Wee'd smooth misfortune, and ourselves think 
 
 then 
 Retir'd like princes from the noise of men, 
 To breathe a while unflatter'd. Each wild beast 
 That should the silence of our cell infest. 
 With clamour, seeking prey, wee'd fancie were 
 Nought but an avaritious courtier. 
 
 "Wealth's but opinion. Who thinks others more 
 Of treasures have, than we, is only paore. 
 
PART SECOND. 223 
 
 ON THE DEATH OF 
 
 THE RIGHT HONOURABLE 
 
 GEORGE EARL OF S* 
 
 .Bright saint, thy pardon, if my sadder verse 
 Appeare, in sighing o're thy glorious hearse, 
 To en vie Heaven; For fame itselfc now wcarcs 
 Griefe's livery, and onely speaks in teares. 
 And pardon you, Castara, if a while 
 Your memory I banish from my stile : 
 When I have paid his death the tribute due 
 Of sorrow, Pie returne to love and you, 
 
 * 8 George Earl of S. 
 George Talbot, 9th Earl of Shrewsbury. See the note 
 in the First Part, on the Poem " To the Kight Honourable 
 the Earl of Shrewes." 
 
224 CASTARA. 
 
 Is there a name like Talbot, which a showre 
 Can force from every eye? And hath even powre 
 To alter nature's course ? How else should all 
 Runne wilde with mourning, and distracted fall ? 
 Th' illiterate vulgar, in a well-tun'd breath, 
 Lament their losse, and learnedly chide death 
 For its bold rape, while the sad poet's song 
 Is yet unheard, as if griefe had no tongue. 
 Th' amaz'd mariner having lost his way 
 In the tempestuous desart of the sea, 
 Lookes up, but finds no starres* They all con. 
 
 spire 
 To darke themselves, V enlighten this new fire. 
 The learn'd astronomer, with daring eye, 
 Searching to tracke the spheares through which 
 
 you flie, 
 (Most beauteous soule) doth in his journey fatfe, 
 And blushing says, " The subtlest art is fraile, 
 And but truth's counterfeit." Your flight dolh 
 
 teach, 
 Fair vertue hath an orbe beyond his reach. 
 
 But I grow dull with sorrow. Unkinde Fate, 
 To play the tyrant, and subvert the state 
 
PART SECOND. 225 
 
 Of sctled gooclncssc ! AVho shall henceforth stand 
 A pure example, to en forme the land 
 Of her loose riot ? Who shall counterchecke 
 The wanton pride of greatnessc, and direct / 
 
 Strayed honour in the true magnificke way ? 
 Whose life shall shew what triumph 'tis t' obey 
 The hard commands of reason ? And how sweet 
 The nuptials are, when wealth and learning meet ? 
 Who will with silent piety confute 
 Atheisticke sophistry, and by the fruite 
 Approve religion's tree ? Who'll teach his blood 
 A virgin law, and dare be great and good ? 
 Who will despise his stiles ? and nobly weigh 
 In judgment's ballance, that his honor'd clay 
 Hath no advantage by them ? Who will live] 
 So innocently pious, as to give 
 The world no scandall ? Who'll himself deny, 
 And to warme passion a colde martyr die ? 
 My griefe distracts me. If my zeal hath said 
 What checks the living, know I serve the dead. 
 The dead, who needs no monumental vaults, 
 With his pale ashes to en torn be his faulis ; 
 W r hose sins beget no libels, whom the poore 
 For benefit, for worth the rich adore : 
 Q 
 
226 CASTARA. 
 
 Who liv'd a solitary phoenix, free 
 
 From the commerce with mischief e ; joy'd to be 
 
 Still gazing heaven-ward, where his thoughts did 
 
 move 
 Fed with the sacred fire of zealons love. 
 Alone he flourisht, till the fatal houre 
 Did summon him ; when gathering from each flow re 
 Their vertuous odours, from his perfum'd nest 
 He took his flight to everlasting rest. 
 
 There shine, great lord, and with propitious 
 eyes 
 
 Looke downe, and smile upon this sacrifice. 
 
part sf.covd. 227 
 
 MY WORTHY COUSIN, MR. E. C. 
 
 IN FRAISE OF THE CITY LIFE, IN THE LONG 
 VACATION. 
 
 1 like the green plush which your meadows weare: 
 I praise your pregnant fields, which duly beare 
 Their wealthy burden to th' industrious Bore : 
 Nor do I disallow, that who are poore 
 In minde and fortune, thither should retire: 
 But hate that he, who's warme with holy fire 
 Of any knowledge, and 'mong us may feast 
 On neetar'd wit, should turne himselfe V a beast, 
 And graze i' th' country. Why did nature wrong 
 So much her paines, as to give you a tongue 
 And fluent language, if converse you hold 
 With oxen in the stall, and sheepe i'th' fold ? 
 
228 CASTARA. 
 
 But now it's long vacation, you will say 
 
 The towne is empty, and who ever may 
 
 To th' pleasure of his country-home repaire, 
 
 Flies from th' infection of our London aire. 
 
 In this your errour. Now's the time alone 
 
 To live here, when the city dame is gone 
 
 T' her house at Brandford; for beyond that she 
 
 Imagines there's no land but Barbary, 
 
 Where lies her husband's factor : When from 
 
 hence 
 Rid is the country justice, whose non-sence 
 Corrupted had the language of the inne, 
 Where he and his horse litter'd : we beginne 
 To live in silence, when the noise o'th' bench 1 
 Nor deafens Westminster, nor corrupt French 
 W'alkes Fleet-street in her gowne. Ruffes of the 
 
 barre, 58 
 By the vacation's powre, translated are 
 
 59 Ruffes of the bar. 
 
 The ruff, which of all fantastic modes maintained its 
 possession the longest, was worn, for some time, after the 
 accession of Charles, (the first); but had almost universally 
 given place to the falling band, when Vandyke was in 
 England. — Granger. 
 
 Evelyn, in his " Numismata," observes, that the bishops 
 and the judges were the last who laid the ruff aside. 
 
PART SIX ONI). 229 
 
 To cut-worke bands ; and who were busie here, 
 
 Arc gone to sow sedition in the shire. 
 
 The aire by this is purg'd, and (he tcrme's strife 
 
 Thus fled the city : we the civill life 
 
 Lead happily. When, in the gentle way 
 
 Of noble mirth, I have the long liv'd day 
 
 Contracted to a moment, I retire 
 
 To my Castara, and meet such a fire 
 
 Of mutual love, that if the city were 
 
 lnfected ; that would pu rifle the ayre. 
 
230 CASTARA. 
 
 LOVE'S AxNiNIVERSARIE. 
 
 TO THE SUNNE. 
 
 Ikou art return'd (great light) to that blest 
 
 houre 
 In which I first by marriage, sacred power, 
 loyn'd with Castara hearts : and as the same 
 Thy lustre is, as then, so is our flame; 
 Which had increast, but that by Lore's decree, 
 'Twas such at first, it ne're could greater be. 
 But tell me, (glorious lampe) in thy surrey 
 Of things below thee, what did not decay 
 By age to weaknesse ? I since that hare scene 
 The rose bud forth and fade, the tree grow greene 
 And wither, and the beauty of the field 
 With winter wrinkled. Eren thy selfe dost yeeld 
 
 Something to time, and to thy grare fall nigher ; 
 
 But virtuous love is one sweet endless fire. 
 
*»AItT SECOND. 231 
 
 AGAINST THEM WHO LAY 
 
 UNCIIASTITY TO THE SEX OF WOMEN. 
 
 I hey meet but with unwholesome springs, 
 And summers which infectious are : 
 
 They heare but when the meremaid sings. 
 And only see the falling starre : 
 
 AVho ever dare 
 Affirme no woman chaste and faire* 
 
 Goo, cure your fearers ; and you'le say 
 The Dog-dayes scorch not all the ycare : 
 
 In copper mines no longer stay, 
 But travel to the west, and there 
 
 The right ones see, 
 And grant all gold's not a1chimie> 
 
232 CASTARA. 
 
 What madman, 'cause the glow-worme's flame 
 Is cold, sweares there's no warmth in fire ? 
 
 'Cause some make forfeit of their name. 
 And slave themselves to man's desire ; 
 
 Shall the sex, free 
 From guilt, damn'd to the bondage be I 
 
 Nor grieve, Castara, though 'twere frailc ; 
 
 Thy vertue then would brighter shine^ 
 When thy example should prevail, 
 
 And every woman's faith be thine : 
 And were there none, 
 
 *Tis majesty to rule alone. 
 
TART SECOND. 
 
 RIGHT HONOURABLE AND EXCELLENTLY LEARNED 
 
 WILLIAM EARL OF ST."> 
 
 My Lord, 
 
 J he laurell doth your reverend temples wreath 
 As aptly now, as when your youth did breath 
 
 go William Earl of St. 
 William Alexander, Earl of Sterling. Avery eminent 
 poet and statesman in the reigns of James I. and Charles I. 
 His poetry, which, for purity and elegance, is far beyond 
 the generality of the productions of the age in which he 
 lived, recommended him to James, who gave him the grant 
 of Nova Scotia ; where he had projected a plan of making 
 a settlement. He seems to have been no less a favourite 
 with Charles. His works consist chiefiy of sonnets, and of 
 four tragedies in alternate rhyme. 
 
 GnAyor.7. 
 
234 CASTARA. 
 
 Those tragicke raptures, which your name shall 
 
 save 
 From the black edict of a tyrant grave. 
 Nor shall your day ere set, till the Sunne shall 
 From the blind Heavens like a cinder fall ; 
 And all the elements intend their strife, 
 To ruine what they fram'd : then your fame's life. 
 When desp'rate Time lies gasping, shall expire, 
 Attended by the world i' th' general fire, 
 Fame lengthens thus her selfe : and I, to tread 
 Your steps to glory, search among the dead, 
 Where Vertue lies obscur'd, that as I give 
 Life to her tombe, I, spight of time, may lire. 
 Now I resolve, in triumph of my verse. 
 To bring great Talbot from that forren hearse, 61 
 Which yet doth to her fright his dust enclose : 
 Then to sing Herbert, who so glorious rose, 62 
 
 61 that forren hearse, 
 John Talbot, Earl of Shrewsbury, the scourge and 
 terror of France, was killed when above eighty \ears of 
 age, in the battle of Bourdeaux, and buried at Rouen in 
 Is'orrnaudy. 
 
 62 TVhn so glorious rose. 
 William Herbert, Larl of Pembroke, was a firm ad-* 
 
PAHT SECOND. 235 
 
 With the fourth Edward, that his faith doth shine 
 Yet in the faith of noblest Pembroke's line. 
 Sometimes my swelling spirits I prepare 
 To speak the mighty Percy, neerest heire, 
 In merits as in blood, to Charles the great : 
 Then Darbie's worth and greatnesse to repeat. 
 Or Morley's honour, or Ttlonteagle's fame, 
 AVhosc valour lives eternized in his name. 
 
 herent to the house of York ; and in reward of his fidelity 
 and valour, Edward IV. immediately on ascending the 
 throne, called him to his council. 
 
 65 Neerest heire % in merits as in blood. 
 See the note in the first part, on the poem to the Ladv 
 E. P. 
 
 fi * h'i'erniz'd in his name. 
 In 5. Henry Sth. Sir Edward Stanley, knight, a younger 
 son to Thomas, fi.-sl: Earl of Derby, commanding the rear 
 of the P^nglish army, at Flodden-FieM ; in the very heat of 
 that memorable battle, forced t!;e Scots, by the power of 
 his archers, (finding themselves much galled by their 
 arrows) to descend the hill ; which, occasioning them to 
 open their ranks, gave the first iu>pei of that dav's victory. 
 King Henry, in consideration of those his valiant acts, done 
 in that battle, when he won the lull, and vanquished all 
 
236 CASTARA. 
 
 
 But while I think to sing these of my blood, 
 And my Castara's, Love's unruly flood 
 Breakes in, and beares away whatever stands 
 Built by my busie fancy on the sands. 
 
 that opposed ; as also for that his ancestors bore the eagle 
 in their crest, commanded he should be proclaimed Lord of 
 Mount-eagle. — Dugdale's Baronage. 254. 2. 
 
PART BVCOND. 237 
 
 TO CASTARA, 
 
 LPON AN EMBRACE. 
 
 Jjolt the husband oke the vine 
 
 Thus wreathes to kisse his leavy face ; 
 Their streames thus rivers joyne. 
 
 And lose themselves in the embrace : 
 But trees want sence when they infold, 
 And waters, when they meet, are cold. 
 
 Thus turtles bill 5 and grone 
 
 Their loves into each other's care : 
 
 Two flames thus burn in one, 
 
 When their cuil'd heads to Heaven they rearc 
 
 But birds want soul, though not desire, 
 
 And flames materiall soone expire. 
 
238 CASTARA. 
 
 If not prophane, we'll say, 
 
 When angels close, their joyes are such ; 
 For we no love obey 
 
 That's bastard to a fleshly touch : 
 Let's close, Castara, then, since thus 
 We pattern angels, and they us. 
 
PAUT SECOND. 
 
 TO TUE HONOUR ABLE 
 
 (i. TJ* 
 
 -Let not thy groaes force Eccho from her cave, 
 Or interrupt her weeping o're that wave, 
 Which last Narcissus kist: let no darke grove 
 Be taught to whisper stories of thy love. 
 What tho' the wind be turn'd ? Canst thou not 
 
 saile 
 By virtue of a cleane contrary gale, 
 
 65 The honourable G. T. 
 George Talbot ; JIabington's friend and kinsman. He 
 was one of the three younger sons of John Talbot, of Long- 
 ford : father of John, 10th Earl of Shrewsbury, by Eleanor 
 his wife ; the daughter of Sir Thomas Baskerville, by Elea- 
 nor, daughter and coheir of Richard Habington ; the elder 
 brother of John : who was the founder of Jlendlip, and 
 grandfather of tie poet. 
 
240 
 
 CASTARA, 
 
 Into some other port ? Where thou wilt find 
 
 It was thy better genius chang'd the wind. 
 
 To steere thee to some island in the West, 
 
 For wealth and pleasure that transcends thy East. 
 
 Though Astrodora, like a sullen starre, 
 
 Eclipse her selfe ; i' th' sky of beauty are 
 
 Ten thousand other fires, some bright as she, 
 
 And who, with milder beames, may shine on thee. 
 
 Nor yet doth this eclipse beare a portent. 
 
 That should affright the world, The firmament 
 
 Enjoys the light it did. a Sunne as cleare, 
 
 And the young Spring doth like a bride appeare. 
 
 As fairly wed to the Thessalian grove 
 
 As e're it was, though she and you not love. 
 
 And we too, who, like two bright stars, have 
 
 shin'd 
 I' th' heaven of friendship, are as firmly joyn'd 
 As blood and love first fram'd us ; and to be 
 Lov'd, and thought worthy to be Jov'd, by thee, 
 >Tis to be glorious:; since fame cannot lend 
 An honour, equals that of Talbot's friend. 
 Nor envie me, that my Castara's liame 
 Yeelds me a constant warmth, though first I 
 
 came 
 
TART SECOND. 24l 
 
 To marriage' happy islands : Seas to thee 
 Will yecld as smooth a way, and winds as free. 
 Which shall conduct thee (if hope may divine) 
 To this delicious port, and make love thine. 
 
242 CASTARA. 
 
 TO CASTARA. 
 
 THE REWARD OF INNOCENT LOVE. 
 
 VV e saw and woo'd each other's eyes. 
 My soule contracted then with thine ; 
 And both burnt in one sacrifice, 
 By which our marriage grew divine. 
 
 Let wilder youth, whose soule is sense, 
 Prophane the temple of delight, 
 And purchase endlesse penitence, 
 With the stolne pleasure of one night. 
 
 Time's ever ours, while we despise 
 The sensuall idol of our clay; 
 For though the Sunne doth set and rise, 
 We joy one everlasting day, 
 
PART SECOND. 243 
 
 Whose light no jealous clouds obscure, 
 While each of us shine innocent : 
 The troubled stream is still impure, 
 With vertuc (lies away content. 
 
 And though opinion often crre, 
 Wee'le court the modest smile of fame ; 
 For sinne's blacke danger circles her. 
 Who hath infection in her namj. 
 
 Thus when to one darke silent roome, 
 Death shall our loving coffins thrust: 
 Fame will build columnes on our tombe, 
 And adde a perfume to our dust. 
 
244 CAST A tl A. 
 
 TO MY NOBLEST FRIEND 
 
 SIR I. P, 
 
 KNIGHT, 
 
 Sir, 
 
 1 hough my deare Talbot's fate exact a sad 
 And heavy brow, my verse shall not be clad 
 For him this houre in mourning : I will write 
 To you the glory of a pompous night, 
 Which none, (except sobriety) who wit 
 Or cloathes could boast, but freely did admit 
 I (who still sinne for company) was there, 
 And tasted of the glorious supper, where 
 Meate was the least of wonder ; though the nest 
 O' th' Phoenix rifled seercfd V amaze the feast, 
 And th' ocean left so poore, that it alone 
 Could since vaunt wretched herring and poore 
 John. 
 
TART SECOND. 215 
 
 Lticullus' surfets were but types of this, 
 
 And whatsoever riot mentioned is 
 
 In story, did but the dull zany play 
 
 To this proud night, which rather wcel'e term day; 
 
 For th' artificial lights so thicke were set, 
 
 That the bright Sun seeoi'd (his to counterfeit. 
 
 But seven (whom whether we should sages call 
 
 Or deadly sinnes, Pie not dispute) were all 
 
 Invited to this pompe. And yet I dare 
 
 Pawne my lov'd Muse, th' Hungarian did prepare 
 
 Hot halfe that quantity of victual!, when 
 
 He Iayd his happy siege to Nortiinghen. 05 
 
 The mist of the perfumes was brcath'd so thicke, 
 
 That linx himself, though his sight fam'd so 
 
 quicke, 
 Had there scarce spyed one sober : for the wealth 
 Of the Canaries was exhaust, the health 
 
 G 6 He laid his happy siege to JS'orllivghen. 
 The battle of Nordlingen, a city of Bavaria, on the 
 Eger, took place in 1634: when the Swedes, under Duke 
 Bernard, and Gustavus Horn, attempting to relieve Nord- 
 lingen, were defeated by the Imperialists, commanded by 
 the young king of Hungary. 
 
 See Universal History , Vol. 30. p, 129. 8vo. ed. 
 
246 CASTARA. 
 
 Of his good majesty to celebrate, 
 Who'le judge them loyall subjects without (hat : 
 Yet they who, some fond priviledgc to maintaine, 
 Would have rebeld, their best freehold, their 
 
 braine 
 Surrender'd there : and live fifteens did pay 
 To drink his happy life and raigne. O day ! 
 It was thy piety to five ; th' hadst beene 
 Found accessory else to this fond sinne. 
 But I forget to speake each stratagem 
 By which the dishes enter'd, and in them 
 Each luscious miracle ; as if more bookes 
 Had written beene o' th' mystery of cookes, 
 Than the philos'pher's stone. Here we did see 
 All wonders in the kitchen alchimy. 
 But He not leave you there ; before you part 
 You shall have something of another art. 
 A banquet raining down so fast, the good 
 Old partriarch w r ould have thought a general! 
 
 flood. 
 Heaven open'd, and from thence a mighty showre 
 Of amber comfits its sweete selfe did powro 
 Vpon our heads, and suckets from our eye 
 Like thickend clouds did steale away the sky, 
 
>AIIT SECOND. 247 
 
 That it was questional whether Heaven were 
 
 Black. fryers, and each starre a confectioner. 
 
 But I too long dctaine you at a feast 
 
 You hap'Iy surfet of; now every guest 
 
 Is reeld downe to his coach ; I licence crave 
 
 Sir, but to kissc your hands, and take my leave. 
 
248 CASTARA. 
 
 TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE 
 
 ARCHIBALD EARLE OF AR/~ 
 
 If your example be obey'd, 
 The serious few will live i' th' silent shade : 
 
 & Earl of Ar. 
 Archibald, Sth Earl of Arg}le, A man of great learn- 
 ing, singular judgment, and other endowments, which re- 
 commended him so much to the favour of king Charles I. 
 that he constituted him one of the lords of his privy council. 
 During the civil wars in that reign, he joined with the par- 
 liament of Scotland, and shewed himself a zealous assertor 
 of the Presbyterian chHrch-government : and after the 
 death of the king, he contributed much to the dutiful re- 
 ception of king Charles II. into Scotland, anno, 1G50 ; and 
 at the solemnity of his coronation, Jan. 1, 1651, put the 
 crown on his head : but on the restoration, in 1660, he was 
 accused of high-treason, for corresponding and complying 
 with Oliver Cromwell, (the too common fault of the times) 
 
PARI SECOND. 2 19 
 
 And not indangcr by the wind 
 Or sunshine, the complexion of their mind ; 
 
 Whose beauty weares so cleare a skin, 
 That it decay es with the least taint of sin. 
 
 Vice growes by custome, nor dare we 
 Reject it as a slave, where it breathes free, 
 
 And is no priviledgc deny'd ; 
 Nor if advane'd to higher place envyed. 
 
 Wherefore your lordship in your selfe 
 (Not lancht farre in the maine, nor nigh the shelfe 
 
 Of humbler fortune) lives at case, 
 Safe from the rocks o' th' shore, and stormes o' th' 
 seas.f 
 
 and being found guilty by the parliament, was beheaded at 
 Edinburgh, May 27, 1661. Immediately before his exe- 
 cution, he solemnly declared, that " from his birth to that 
 44 moment, he was free of any accession to the death of 
 44 king Charles." 
 
 Collin s Peerage, vii. 646. 
 This account is, however, controverted by the Rev. 
 William Cole, of Cambridge; " The accounts I have re- 
 41 ceived of this nobleman generally agree in making him 
 44 the most violent opposer of king Charles the second, and 
 44 the greatest friend to Cromwell in the three kingdoms." 
 Malcolm's Letters to and from Mr. Granger. 
 
 i Hor. Od. 10. 13. 2. 
 
^50 CASTARA. 
 
 Your soule's a well built city, where 
 There's such munition, that no war breeds feare : 
 
 No rebels wilde destractions move ; 
 For you the heads have crusht ; Rage, Envy, 
 Love. 
 
 And therefore you defiance bid 
 To open enmity, or mischiefe hid 
 
 In fawning hate and supple pride, 
 Who are on every corner for ti fide. 
 
 Your youth, not rudely led by rage 
 Of blood, is now the story of your age, 
 
 Which without boast you may averre 
 'Fore blackest danger, glory did prefer : 
 
 Glory not purchast by the breath 
 Of sycophants, but by encountring death. 
 
 Yet wiJdnesse nor the feare of lawes 
 Did make you fight, but justice of the cause. 
 
 For but mad prodigals they are 
 Of fortitude, who for it selfe love warre* 
 
 When well made peace had clos'd the eyes 
 Of discord, sloath did not your youth surprise. 
 
 Your life as well as powre, did awe 
 The bad, and to the good was the best law : 
 
 Yv r hen most men vertue did pursue 
 In hope by it to grow in fame like you. 
 
PART SECOND. 251 
 
 Nor when you did to court rcpaire, 
 Did you your manners alter with the ayre. 
 
 You did your modesty retainc, 
 Your faithfull dealing, the same tongue and brainc: 
 
 Nor did all the soft llattery there 
 Inchant you so, but still you truth could hcare : 
 
 And though your roofes were richly guilt, 
 The basis was on no ward's mine built : 
 
 Nor were your Tassals made a prey, 
 And forc't to curse the coronation day. 
 And though no bravery was knowne 
 To outshine yours, you onely spent your owne. 
 
 For 'twas the indulgence of Fate, 
 To give y' a moderate minde, and bounteous state : 
 
 But I, my lord, who have no friend 
 Of fortune, must begin where you doe end. 
 
 'Tis dangerous to approach the fire 
 Of action ; nor is't safe, farre to retire. 
 
 Yet better lost i'th' multitude 
 Of private men, than on the state V intrude, 
 
 And hazard, for a doubtfull smile, 
 My stocke of fame, and inward peace to spoile. 
 
 He therefore nigh some murm'riug brooke 
 That wantons through my meddowes, with a 
 bookc, 
 
252 CASTARA. 
 
 With my Castara, or some friend, 
 My youth, not guilty of ambition, spend. 
 
 To my owne shade (if fate permit) 
 I'le whisper some soft musique of my wit ; 
 
 And flatter so my selfe, I'le see 
 By that, strange motion steale into the tree. 
 
 But still my first and chiefest care 
 Shall be V appease offended Heaven with prayer * 
 
 Aikd in such mold my thoughts to cast, 
 That each day shall be spent as 'twere my last. 
 
 How ere it's sweete lust to obey, 
 Vertue, though rugged, is the safest way. 
 
PART SECOND. 253 
 
 AN ELEGY UPON THE HONOURABLE 
 
 HENRY CAMBELL, 
 
 SONNE TO THE EARLE OF All.* 
 
 It's false arithmaticke to say thy breath 
 Expir'd too soone, or irreligious death 
 Prophan'd thy holy youth. For if thy yeares 
 Be number'd by thy vertues, or our teares, 
 Thou didst the old Methusalem out-live. 
 Though time but twenty years' account can give 
 Of thy abode on Earth, jet every houre 
 Of thy brave youth, by vertuc's wondrous powre, 
 Was lengthen'd to a yeare. Each well-spent day 
 Keepes young the body, but the soule makes 
 gray. 
 
 * Argylc. 
 
254 CASTARA. 
 
 Such miracles workes goodnesse : and behind 
 
 Th'ast left to us such stories of thy minde 
 
 Fit for example, that when them we read, 
 
 We en vie Earth the treasures of the dead. 
 
 Why doe the sinfull riot, and survive 
 
 The feavers of their surfets ? Why alive 
 
 Is yet disorder'd greatnesse, and all they 
 
 Who the loose lawes of their wilde blood obey ? 
 
 Why lives the gamester, who doth blacke the 
 
 night 
 With cheats and imprecations ? Why is light 
 Looked on by those whose breath may poyson it: 
 Who sold the vigour of their strength and wit 
 To buy diseases : and thou, who faire truth 
 And vertue didst adore, lost in thy youth ? 
 
 But Tie not question fate. Heaven doth con- 
 veigh 
 Those first from the darke prison of their clay 
 Who are most fit for Heaven. Thou in warre 
 Hadst ta'ne degrees, those dangers felt, which are 
 The props on which peace safely doth subsist, 
 And through the cannon's blew and horrid mist 
 
PART SECOND. 255 
 
 Iladsf brought her light : And now wert so com- 
 
 pleat 
 That naught but death did want to make thee great. 
 
 Thy death was timely then bright soule to thee, 
 And in thy fate thou sulfcr'dst not. 'Twas we 
 Who dyed, rob'd of thy life : in whose increase 
 Of reall glory, both id warre and peace, 
 Wo all did share : and thou away we feare 
 Didst with thee the whole stocke of honour beare. 
 
 Each then be his owne mourner. Wee'lc to thec 
 Write hymncs, upon the world an elegie. 
 
228 CASTARA. 
 
 TO CASTARA. 
 
 
 
 AY hy should we feare to melt away in death ? 
 
 May we but dye together. When beneath 
 
 In a coole vault we sleepe, the world will prove 
 
 Religious, and call it the shrine of love. 
 
 There, when o' th' wedding eve some beauteous 
 
 maid, 
 Suspitious of the faith of man, hath paid 
 The tribute of her vowes, o' th' sudden shee 
 Two violets sprouting from the tombe will see; 
 And cry out, " Ye sweet emblems of their zeale 
 Who live below, sprang ye up to reveale 
 The story of our future joyes, how we 
 The faithfull patterns of their love shall be ? 
 
 If not; hang downe your heads opprest with 
 dew, 
 
 And I will weepe and wither hence with you." 
 
TART SECOND. 25? 
 
 TO CASTARA, 
 
 OF WHAT WE WERE BEFORE OUR CREATION. 
 
 \\ hen Pelion wondring saw that raine, which fell 
 But now from angry Heaven, to heavenward 
 
 swell : 
 When th' Indian ocean did the wanton play, 
 Mingling its billowes with the Balticke sea, 
 And the whole earth was water : O where then 
 Were we Castara? In the fate of men 
 Lost underneath the waves ? Or to beguile 
 Heaven's justice, lurkt we in Noah's floating isle? 
 We had no being then. This fleshly frame ? 
 Wed to a soule long after, hither came 
 A stranger to it selfc. Those moneths, that were 
 But the last age, no news of us did heare. 
 
 What pompe is then in us? Who th' other day 
 
 Were nothing ; and in triumph now, but clay, 
 
 s 
 
258 CASTARA. 
 
 TO THE MOMENT LAST PAST. 
 
 O whither dost thou five ? cannot my tow 
 Intreat thee tarry ? Thou wert here but now, 
 And thou art gone; like ships which plough the 
 
 sea, 
 And leave no print for man to tracke their way. 
 O unseene wealth ! who thee did husband^ can 
 Out-^ie the jewels of the ocean, 
 The mines of th' earth ! One sigh well spent in 
 
 thee 
 Had beene a purchase for eternity ! 
 We will not loose thee then. Castara, where 
 Shall we finde out his hidden sepulcher ? 
 And wee'le revive him. Not the cruell stealth 
 Of fate shall rob us of so great a wealth ; 
 
 Vndone in thrift ! while we besought his stay. 
 Ten of his fellow moments fled away. 
 
PART SECOND. 259 
 
 TO CASTARA, 
 
 OF THE KNOWLEDGE OF LOVE, 
 
 \V here slecpes the north-wind 08 when the south 
 
 inspires 
 Life in the spring, and gathers into quires 
 
 63 Where sleepes the jiorth-ivincl. 
 This elegant little poem was, perhaps, suggested by a 
 passage in Propertius. Lib. 3. El. 4. 
 
 Me juvat in prima coluisse Helicona juventa : &c. 
 
 It is my joy, that flush'd with prime of youth 
 I sought the groves of Helicon; and twin'd 
 My hands in dances with the muses' quire: 
 It is my joy, that in the flowing grape 
 My mind is captive held, and evermore 
 The vernal rose in wreaths my brow : when Time 
 Has intercepted love, and white old age 
 Sprinkled my hair, it then may please to learn 
 The ways of Nature : what directing power 
 
260 CASTARA, 
 
 The scatter'd nightingales ; whose subtle eares 
 Heard first th' harmonious language of the 
 
 spheares ? 
 Whence hath the stone magneticke force V allure 
 Th' enamourd iron? from a seed impure 
 Or naturali did first the mandrake grow ? 
 What powre i' th' ocean makes it ebbe and flow ? 
 What strange materials is the azure skye 
 Compacted of? of what it's brightest eye 
 The ever flaming Sunne ? what people are 
 In th' unknowne world ? what worlds in every 
 star ? 
 
 Let curious fancies at this secret rove ; 
 
 Castara> what we know wee'le practise — love. 
 
 Tempers the fabric of this universe : 
 How rises and how sets the monthly moon, 
 And with bent horns encreases to its full ; 
 Whence ride the winds above the salt sea-surge ; 
 And the strong East takes with his sudden blast 
 The moving waters : whence perpetual rains 
 Hang in the clouds ; if ere a day will come, 
 That shall o'erturn the piilars of the world ; 
 Or why th' impurpled bow imbibes the shower. 
 
PAR* SECOND. 261 
 
 TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE 
 
 THE COUNTESSE OF C/ 9 
 
 Madam, 
 
 Should the cold Muscovit, whose furrc and 
 
 stove 
 Can scarse prepare him heate enough for love. 
 But view the wonder of your presence, he 
 Would scorn his winter's sharpest injury : 
 And trace the naked groves, till he found bayse 
 To write the beautious triumphs of your prayse. 
 As a dull poet even he would say, 
 Th' unclouded Sun had never showne them day 
 
 " 69 Countesse of C. 
 Possibly, the Countess of Carlisle : a celebrated beauty 
 and wit of that time, whom Waller has paneygyrised in hi* 
 poems. 
 
262 CASTARA. 
 
 Till that bright minute ; that he now admires 
 No more why the coy Spring so soone retires 
 From their unhappy clyme ; it doth pursue 
 The Sun, and he derives his light from you. 
 Hee'd tell you how the fetter'd Baltick sea 
 Is set at freedome, while the yce away 
 Doth melt at your approach ; how by so faire 
 Harmonious beauty, their rude manners are 
 Reduc't to order ; how to them you bring 
 The wealthiest mines below; above, the Spring. 
 Thus would his wonder speake, For he would 
 
 want 
 Religion to beleeve, there were a saint 
 Within, and all he saw was but the shrine. 
 But I here pay my vowes to the devine 
 Pure essence there inclos'd, which if it were 
 Not hid in a faire cloud 3 but might appeare 
 In its full lustre, would make Nature live 
 In a state equall to her primitive. 
 But sweetly that's obscur'd. Yet through our 
 
 eye 
 Cannot the splendour of your soule descry 
 In true perfection, by a glimmering light 
 Your language yeelds us, we can guesse how 
 
 bright 
 
 
IMRT SECOND. 
 
 
 The Sunnc within you shines, and curse th' 
 
 unkind 
 Eclipse, or else our selves for being blinde. 
 How hastily doth Nature build up man 
 To leave him so imperfect ? For he can 
 See nought beyond his sence; she doth controule 
 So farre his sight, he ne're discern'd a soule. 
 For, had yours beene the object of his eye, 
 It had turn'd wonder to idolatry. 
 
 I 
 
264 CASTARA. 
 
 THE HARMONY OF LOVE. 
 
 Amphion, O thou holy shade ! 
 Bring Orpheus up with thee : 70 
 
 ?° Bring Orpheus up with thee. 
 The idea of calling up the shades of the minstrels of old 
 is familiar to the readers of Milton. 
 
 But oh sad virgin ! that thy power 
 Might raise Musseus from his bower; 
 Or bid the soul of Orpheus sing 
 Such notes as, warbled to the string, 
 Drew iron tears down Pluto Vcheek. 
 
 Il Penseroso. 
 
 That Orpheus' self may heave the head 
 From golden slumber, on a bed 
 Of heap'd Elysian flowers, and hear 
 Such strains, as would have won the ear 
 Of Pluto. 
 
 L'Allegro. 
 
FART SECOND. 265r 
 
 That wonder may you bo(h invade, 
 
 Hearing love's harmony. 
 You who are soule, not rudely made 
 Vp with materia 11 cares, 
 And lit to reach the musicke of these sphcarcs. 
 
 Harke ! when Castara's orbs doc move 
 
 By my first moving eyes. 
 How great the symphony of love! 
 
 But 'tis the destinies 
 Will not so farre my prayer approve, 
 
 To bring you hither, here 
 Lcs$ you meete heaven, for Elizium there, 
 
 'Tis no dull sublunary flame 
 
 Burnes in her heart and mine. 
 But some thing more, than hath a name, 
 
 So subtle and divine, 
 We know not why, nor how it came; 
 
 Which shall shine bright, till she, 
 And the whole world of love, expire with me. 
 
266 CASTARA. 
 
 TO MY HONOURED FRIEND 
 
 SIR ED, P. 
 
 KNIGHT. 
 
 1 ou'd leave the silence in which safe we are, 
 
 To listen to the noyse of warre; 
 And walke those rugged paths the factious tread ? 
 
 Who, by the number of the dead, 
 Reckon their glories, and think greatnesse stood 
 
 Vnsafe, till it was built on blood. 
 Secure i' th' wall our seas and ships provide 
 
 (Abhorring war's so barb'rous pride, 
 And honour bought with slaughter) in content 
 
 Let's breathe, though humble, innocent. 
 Folly and madnesse ! Since 'tis ods we ne're 
 
 See the fresh youth of the next yean* : 
 
r ART SECOND. *67 
 
 Perhaps not the chast inornc her selfe disclose 
 
 Againe, t'out-blush th' aemulous rose : 
 Why doth ambition so the mind distrcsse 
 
 To make us scornc what we possesse, 
 And looke so farre before us, since all we 
 
 Can hope, is varied misery? 
 Coc find some whispering shade nearc Arne or 
 Poe, 
 
 And gently 'mong their violets throw 
 Your weary'd limbs, and see if all those faire 
 
 Enchantments can charme gricfo or care. 
 Our sorrowes still pursue us ; 71 and when you 
 
 The ruin'd capitol shall view, 
 
 71 Our sorrows siill pursue us. 
 The sentiment is from Horace. Od. 1G. lib. 2. 
 Quid terras alio calentes 
 Sole mutamus ? &c. 
 
 To climates warm'd by other suns 
 In vain the wretched exile runs ; 
 Flies from his country's native skies, 
 But never from himself he Hies. 
 Corroding cares incessant charge 
 His flight, and climb his armed barge : 
 Far fleeter than the tim'rous hind ; 
 Far fleeter than tae driving wind. 
 
 Dr, Francis. 
 
268 CASTARA. 
 
 And statues, a dlsorder'd heape ; you can 
 
 Not cure yet the disease of man, 
 And banish your owne thoughts. Go trarailc 
 where 
 
 Another Sun and starres appeare, 
 And Jand nottoucht by any covetous fleet. 
 
 And yet even there your selfe youle meete. 
 Stay here then, and while curious exiles iind 
 
 New toyes for a fantastinue mind. 
 Enjoy at home what's real!: here the Spring 
 
 By her aeriall quires doth sing 
 As sweetly to you, as if you were laid 
 
 Vnder the learn'd Thessalian shade. 7 * 
 
 So also in od. 1. lib. 3. 
 
 Sed timor et mirspe 
 Scandunteodem quo dorainns, &c. 
 
 Pale menaces, and black despair, 
 
 This haughty lord shall find 
 Overtake his armed gain's speed r 
 Anfl when he mounts the flying steed 
 Sits gloomy care behind. 
 
 Dr. Francis. 
 
 72 The learn d Thessalian shade. 
 The laurel groves, on the banks of the river Peneus, 
 
PA11T SECOND. 269 
 
 Direct your eyc-sight inward, and you'le find 
 
 A thousand regions in your mind 
 Vet undiscovered. Travcll them, and be 
 
 Expert in home cosmographie. 
 This you may doe safe both from rocke and 
 shelfe : 
 
 Man's a whole world within himselfe. 
 
 which flowed through the vale of Tempe in Thessaly : the 
 scene of the fabled metamorphosis of Daphne : and there- 
 fore sacred to Apollo, the patron of letters. 
 
270 CASTARA. 
 
 TO CASTARA. 
 
 Cjive me a heart, where no impure 
 
 Disorder'd passions rage ; 
 Which jealousie doth not obscure. 
 Nor vanity t' expence ingage ; 
 Not wooed to madnesse by queint oathes, 
 Or the fine rhetoricke of cloathes ; 
 "Which not the softnesse of the age 
 To vice or folly doth decline ; 
 Give me that heart (Castara) for 'tis thine. 
 
 Take thou a heart, where no new looke 
 
 Provokes new appetite ; 
 With no fresh charme of beauty tooke, 
 Or wanton stratagem of wit ; 
 Not idly wandring here and there, 
 Led by an am'rous eye or eare ; 
 Aiming each beautious marke to hit ; 
 
PART SECOND. 271 
 
 Which vertuc doth to one confine : 
 
 Take thou that heart, Castara, for 'tis mine. 
 
 And now my heart is lodg'd with thee, 
 
 Observe but how it still 
 Doth listen, how thine doth with me ; 
 And guard it well, for else it will 
 Runne hither backe ; not to be where 
 I am, but 'cause thy heart is here. 
 But without discipline, or skill, 
 Our hearts shall freely 'tweene us move ; 
 Should thou or I want hearts, wce'd breathe by 
 love. 
 
 ' 
 
272 CASTARA. 
 
 TO CASTARA. 
 
 OF TRUE DELIGHT. 
 
 Why doth the eare so tempt the voyce. 
 That cunningly divides the ayre ? 
 Why doth the pallate buy the choyce 
 Delights o' th' sea, to enrich her fare ? 
 
 As soone as I my eare obey, 
 The eccho's lost even with the breath; 
 And when, the sewer takes away ; 
 I'me left with no more taste than death. 
 
 Be curious in pursuite of eyes 
 To procreate new loves with thine ; 
 Satiety makes sence despise 
 What superstition thought divine. 
 
PART SECOND. 273 
 
 QuickC fancy ! how it mockcs delight ! 
 As we conceive, things are not such 
 The glow-worme is as warmc as bright, 
 Till the deceitfull flame we touch. 
 
 When I have sold my heart to lust, 
 And bought repentance with a kisse ; 
 I find the malice of my dust, 
 That told me Hell contained a blisse. 
 
 The rose yeelds her sweetc blandishment 
 Lost in the fold of lovers' wreathes ; 
 The violet enchants the scent, 
 When earely in the spring she breathes. 
 
 But winter comes, and makes each ilowre 
 Shrinke from the pillow where it growes : 
 Or an intruding cold hath powre 
 To scorne the perfume of the rose. 
 
 Oursences, like false glasses, show 
 Smooth beauty, where browes wrinkled are* 
 And makes the cosen'd fancy glow; 
 Chaste vertue's onely true and fairc. 
 
274 CASTARA. 
 
 TO MY NOBLEST FRIEND, 
 
 I. c. 
 
 ZSQUIRE* 
 
 SlR, 
 
 1 hate the countrie's durt and manners, jet 
 I love the silence ; I embrace the wit 
 And courtship, flowing here in a full tide, 
 But loathe the expence, the vanity and pride. 
 No place each way is happy. Here I hold 
 Commerce with some, who to my eare unfold 
 (After a due oath ministred) the height 
 And greatnesse of each star shines in the state, 
 The brightnesses the eclypse, the influence. 
 With others I commune, who tell me whence 
 The torrent doth of forraigne discord flow : 
 Relate each skirmish, battle, overthrow, 
 
PART SIXCTKD. 
 
 Soone as they happen : and by rote can tell 
 
 Those Germane townes, even puzzle me to spell. 
 
 The crosse, or prosperous fate, of princes they 
 
 Ascribe to rashncsse, cunning, or delay ; 
 
 And on each action comment, with more skill 
 
 Than upon Livy, did old Matchaviil. 
 
 O busie folly ! Why doe I my braine 
 
 Perplex with the dull pollicies of Spaine, 
 
 Or quickc designes of France : Why not rcpaire 
 
 To the pure innocence o' th' country ayre, 
 
 And neighbour thee, deare friend? Who so dost 
 
 give 
 Thy thoughts to worth and vertue, that to lire 
 Blest, is to trace thy waves. There might not we 
 Arme against passion with philosophic; 
 And by the aide of leisure, so controule 
 What-ere is earth in us, to grow all soule? 
 Knowledge doth ignorance ingender, when 
 W^e study misteries of other men, 
 And forraigne plots. Doe but in thy owne shade 
 (Thy head upon some ilowry pillow laide, 
 Kinde Nature's huswifery) contemplate all 
 His stratagems, who labours to inthral 
 The world to his great master, and youle finde 
 Ambition mocks it selfe, and grasps the wind. 
 
276 castarA. 
 
 Not conquest makes us great. Blood is too deare 
 
 A price for glory : Honour doth appeare 
 
 To statesmen like a vision in the night. 
 
 And jugler-like works o' th' deluded sight, 
 
 Th' unbusied onely wise: for no respect 
 
 Indangers them to errour ; they affect 
 
 Truth in her naked beauty, and behold 
 
 Man with an equall eye, not bright in gold 
 
 Or tall in title : so much him they weigh 
 
 As vertue raiseth him above his clay. 
 
 Thus let us value things : and since we had 
 
 Time bends us toward death, let's in our mind 
 
 Create new youth ; and arme against the rude 
 
 Assaults of age ; that no dull solitude 
 
 O' th' country dead our thoughts, nor busie care 
 
 O' th' towne make us not thinke, where now we 
 
 are 
 And whether we are bound. Time nere forgot 
 His journey, though his steps we numbered not. 
 
PART SF.COM). '277 
 
 TO CASTARA. 
 
 WHAT LOYERS WILL SAY WHEN SHE AND HE 
 ARE DEAD, 
 
 I wonder when w' arc dead, what men will say ; 
 
 Will not poore orphan lovers weepe 
 
 The parents of their loves decay, 
 And envy death the treasure of our sleepe ? 
 
 Will not each trembling virgin bring her fcares 
 
 To th' holy silence of my vrne ? 
 
 And chide the marble with her teares, 
 'Cause she so soone faith's obsequie must mourne ? 
 
 For had Fate spar'd but Araphill (she'le say) 
 
 He had the great example stood, 
 
 And forc't unconstant man obey 
 The law of love's religion, not of blood ? 
 
278 CAStXfcX. 
 
 And youth, by female perjury betraid. 
 
 Will to Castara's shrine deplore 
 
 His injuries, and death obrayd, 
 That woman lives more guilty than before. 
 
 For while thy breathing purified the ayre, 
 Thy sex (heele say) did onely moie 
 By the chaste influence of a fairc, 
 
 Whose vertue shin'd in the bright orbe of love, 
 
 Now woman like a meteor, vapour'd forth, 
 From dunghills, doth amaze our eyes ;- 
 Not shining with a reall worth 
 
 But subtile her black errours to disguise. 
 
 This will they talke, Casiara, while our dust 
 In one dark vault shall mingled be : 
 The world will fall a prey to lust, 
 
 When love is dead ? which hath one fate with me* 
 
TART SECOND. 279 
 
 TO HIS MUSE, 
 
 Here*" virgin fix thy pillars, and command 
 
 They sacred may to after ages stand 
 
 l:i witness of love's triumph. Yet will we, 
 
 Casfara, find new worlds in poetry, 
 
 And conquer them. Not dully following those 
 
 Tame lovers, who dare cloth their thoughts in 
 
 prose. 
 But we will henceforth more religious prove, 
 Concealing the high mysteries of love 
 From theprophane. Harmonious Jike the sphearcs 
 Our soules shall move, not reacht by humane eares. 
 That musicke to the angels, this to fame, 
 I here commit. That when their holy ilame 
 True lovers to pure beauties would rehearse, 
 They may invoke the genius of my verse. 
 
 * An allusion, probably, to the pillars of Hercules : (he 
 boundaries of his labours. The ancient name given to Calpe 
 and Abyla, the two mountains on the opposite coasts of 
 Spain and Africa : now the straits of Gibraltar. 
 

Castara* 
 
 •PART THE THIRD. 
 
A FRIEND 
 
 Is a man. For the free and open discovery of thoughts to 
 woman can not passe without an over licentious famili- 
 arity, or a justly occasion'd suspition : and friendship can 
 neither stand with vice or infamie. He is vertuous, for 
 love begot in sin is a mishapeu monster, and seldome out- 
 lives his birth. He is noble, and inherits the vertues of 
 all his progenitors ; though happily unskiifull to blazon 
 his paternall csate ; so little should nobility serve for 
 story, but when it encourageth to action. He is so va- 
 liant, feare could never be listned to, when she whispered 
 danger; and yet fights not* unlesse religion confirmes the 
 quarrel lawful!. He submits his actions to the govern- 
 ment of vertue, not to the wilde decrees of popular 
 opinion ; and when his conscience is fully satisfied, he 
 cares not how mistake and ignorance interpret him. He 
 hath so much fortitude he can forgive an injurie ; and 
 when hee hath overthrowne his opposer, not insult upon 
 his weaknesse. Hee is an absolute governor; no des^ 
 trover of his passions^ which he employes to the noble 
 
A FRIEND. 283 
 
 increase of vertue. He is wise, for who hopes to rcape 
 a harvest from the sands, may expect the perfect offices 
 of friendship from a foole. He hath by a liberall educa- 
 tion heene softened to civility ; for that nigged honesty 
 Mime rude men professe, is an indigested chaos ; which 
 may contain the seedes of goodnesse, but it wants forme 
 and order. 
 
 lie is no flatterer; but when he findes his friend any way 
 imperfect, he freely but gently informes him ; nor yet shall 
 some few errours cancell the bond of friendship ; beca 
 he remembers no endeavours can raise man above his 
 frailety. He is as slow to enter into that title, as he is 
 to forsake it ; a monstrous vice must disoblicge, because 
 an extraordinary vertue did first unite; and when he 
 parts, he doth it without a duell. He is neither effemi- 
 nate, nor a common courtier ; the first is so passionate a 
 doater upon himselfe, hee cannot spare love enough to be 
 justly named friendship ; the latter hath his love so 
 diffusive among the beauties, that man is not considerable. 
 He is not accustomed to any sordid way of gaine, for 
 who is any way mechanicke, will sell his friend, upon 
 more profitable termes. He is bountiful), and thinkes 
 110 treasure of fortune equal to the preservation of him 
 he loves ; vet not so lavish, as to bay friendship and 
 perhaps afterwards finde himselfe overscene in the pur- 
 chase. He is not exceptious, for jealousie proceeds from 
 weaknesse, and his vertues quit him from suspitions. He 
 freely gives advice, but so little peremptory is his opi* 
 
c 284 
 
 A FRIEND. 
 
 nion that he ingeniously submits it to an abler judgement, 
 He is open in expression of his thoughts, and easeth his 
 melancholy by inlargingit; and no sanctuary preserves so 
 safely, as he his friend afflicted. He makes use of no 
 engines of his friendship to extort a secret j but if com- 
 mitted to his charge, his heart receives it, and that and it 
 come both to light together. In life he is the most amia- 
 ble object to the soule, in death the most deplorable. 
 
Part €.\)ivt)r 
 
 i in: funerals of the honourable, my BE9T 
 
 FRIEND AND KINSMAN, 
 
 GEORGE TALBOT, 
 
 ESQUIRE. 
 
 ELEGIE I. 
 
 J were malice to thy fame, to weepe alone, 
 And not enforce an universall groane 
 From ruinous man, and make the world complaine : 
 Yet Pie forbid my griefe to be prophane 
 In mention of thy prayse ; Pie speake but truth, 
 Tet write more honour than ere shin'd in youth. 
 
286 CASTARA, 
 
 I can relate thy businesse here on Earth, 
 Thy mystery of life, thy noblest birth 
 Out-shin'd by nobler vertue : but how farre 
 Th' hast tane thy journey ? bove the highest star, 
 J cannot speake, nor whether thou art in 
 Commission with a throne, or cherubin. 
 Passe on triumphant in thy glorious way, 
 Till thou hast reacht the place assign'd : we may, 
 Without disturbing the harmonious spheares, 
 Bathe here below thy memory in our teares. 
 Ten dayes are past, since a dull wonder seised 
 My active soule : loud stonnes of sighes are rais'd 
 By empty griefes; they, who can utter it, 
 Doe not vent forth their sorrow, but their wit. 
 I stood likeNiobe, without a groane, 
 Congeal'd into that monumentall stone 
 That doth lye over thee : I had no roome 
 For witty griefe, fit onely for thy tombe. 
 And friendship's monument thus had I stood ; 
 But that the flame, I beare thee^ warm'd my blood 
 With a new life. Pie, like a funerall fire, 
 But burne a while to thee, and then expire. 
 
PART THIRD. 287 
 
 ELEGIE II. 
 
 
 1 albot is dead. J. ike lightning, which no part 
 O' th' body touches, but first strikes the heart, 
 This word hath nmrder'd me. There's not in all 
 The stockc of sorrow any charme can call 
 Death sooner up : For musiquc's in the breath 
 Of thunder, and a sweetnesse even i' th' death 
 That brings with it, if you with this compare 
 All theloude noyses, which torment the ayre. 
 They cure (physitians say) the element 
 Sicke with dull vapours, and to banishment 
 Confine infections ; but this fatall shreeke, 
 Without the least redress, is uiter'd like 
 The last daye's summons, when Earth's trophies 
 
 lye 
 A scatter'd heape, and time it selfe must djQ t 
 
288 CASTAHA. 
 
 What now hath life to boast of ? Can I have 
 A thought lesse darke than th' horrour of the grave, 
 Now thou dost dwell below ? Wer't not a fault 
 Past pardon, to raise fancie 'bove thy vault ? 
 Hayle sacred house in which his reliques sleep ! 
 Blest marble give me leave V approach, and weepe 
 These vowes to thee ! for since great Talbot's 
 
 gone 
 Downe to thy silence, I commerce with none 
 But thy pale people ; and in that confute 
 Mistaken man, that dead men are not mute. 
 Delicious beauty, lend thy flatter'd eare 
 Accustomed to warme whispers, and thou'It hcare 
 How their cold language tels thee, that thy skin 
 Is but a beautious shrine, in which black sin 
 Is idoliz'd ; thy eyes but spheares where lust 
 Hath its loose motion ; and thy end is dust. 
 Great Atlas of the state, descend with me 
 But hither, and this vault shall furnish thee 
 With more avisos, than thy costly spyes, 
 And show how false are all those mysteries 
 Thy sect receives; and though thy pallace swell 
 With envied pride, 'tis here that thou must dwell. 
 It will instruct you, courtier, that your art 
 Of outward smoothnesse and a rugged heart 
 
PART Til I III). 289 
 
 But chcatcs your selfc, and all those subtill wayes 
 
 You tread to greatnesse, is a fatall maze 
 
 Where you yourselfe shall loose; for though you 
 
 breath 
 Vpward to pride, your center is beneath. 
 And 'twill thy rhetorick, false flesh ! confound, 
 Which flatters my fraile thoughts, no time can 
 
 wound 
 This unarm'd frame. Here is true eloquence 
 Will teach my soule to triumph over sencc, 
 Which hath its period in a grave, and there 
 Showes what are all our pompous surfets here. 
 Great orator ! deare Talbot ! Still to thee 
 May I an auditor attentive be, 
 And piously maintaine the same commerce 
 We held in life ! and if in my rude verse 
 I to the world may thy sad precepts read, 
 1 will on Earth interpret for the dead. 
 
290 CASTARA. 
 
 ELEGIE III. 
 
 -Let me contemplate thee (faire soule) and though 
 I cannot tracke the way, which thou didst goe 
 In thy ccelestiall journey, and my heart 
 Expansion wants, to thinke what now thou art, 
 How bright and wide thy glories; yet I may 
 Remember thee, as thou wert in thy clay. 
 Best object to my heart ! what vertues be 
 Inherent even to the least thought of thee ! 
 Death, which to th' yig'rous heate of youth brings 
 
 feare 
 In its leane looke, doth like a prince appeare, 
 Now glorious to my eye, since it possest 
 The wealthie empyre of that happie chest 
 Which harbours thy rich dust ; for how can he 
 Be thought a bank'rout that embraces thee I 
 
TART THIRD. 291 
 
 Sad midnight whispers with a greedy t »arc 
 
 I catch from lonely graves, in hope to heare 
 
 Newes from the dead ; nor can pale visions fright 
 
 His eye, who since thy deatli feeles no delight 
 
 In man's acquaintance. "MenVry of thy fate 
 
 Doth in me a sublimer soule create ; 
 
 And now my sorrow followes thee, \ tread 
 
 Thcmilkic way, and see the snowie head 
 
 Of Atlas farre below, while all the high 
 
 Swolnc buildings seeme but atoms to my eye. 
 
 l'me heighten'd by my ruinc ; and while I 
 
 Wecpe ore the vault where thy sad ashes lye, 
 
 My soul with thine doth hold commerce above; 
 
 Where we disceme the stratagems, which love, 
 
 Hate, and ambition, use, to cozen man ; 
 
 So fraile that every blast of honour can 
 
 Swell him above himselfe, each adverse gust 
 
 Him and his glories shiver into dust. 
 
 How small secmes greatnesse here ! How not a 
 
 span 
 His empire, who commands the Ocean ! 
 Both that, which boasts so much it's mighty ore, 
 And th'other, which with pearle hath pav'd its 
 
 shore. 
 
292 -CASTARA. 
 
 Nor can it greater seeme, when this great All 
 For which men quarrell so, is but a ball 
 Cast downc into the ayre to sport the starres : 
 And all our generall mines, mortall warres, 
 Depopulated states, caus'd by their sway ; 
 And man's so reverend wisedome but their play. 
 From thee, deare Talbot, living I did learne 
 The arts of life, and by thy light discerne 
 The truth which men dispute : but by thee dead 
 I'me taught, upon the world's gay pride to tread : 
 And that way sooner master it, than he 
 To whom both th' Indies tributary be* 
 
PART TIITRD. 293 
 
 ELE6IE V. 
 
 JVIy name, deare friend, even thy expiring breath 
 Did call upon : affirming that thy death 
 Would wound my poor sad heart. Sad i( must be 
 Indeed, lost to all thoughts of mirth in thee. 
 My lord, if I with licence of your teares, 
 (Which your great brother's hearse as diamonds 
 
 wcares 
 T' enrich death's glory) may butspcake my ownc ; 
 I'le prove it, that no sorrow e're was knowne 
 Iteall as mine. All other mourners kecpe 
 In griefe a method : without forme I wecpe. 
 The sonne (rich in his father's fate) hath eyes 
 Wet just as long as are the obsequies. 
 The widow formerly a ycare doth spend 
 In her so courtly blackes. But for a friend 
 We weepe an age, and more than th' anchorit, hare 
 Our very thoughts confin'd within a grave. 
 
294 CASTARA. 
 
 Chast love who hadst thy tryumph in my flame, 
 And thou Castara ! who hadst had a name, 
 But for this sorrow, glorious ; now my verse 
 Is lost to you, and onely on Talbot's herse 
 Sadly attends : and till Time's fatal hand 
 Ruines what's left of churches, there shall stand* 
 There to thy selfe, deare Talbot, I'le repeate 
 Thy owne brave story ; tell thy selfe how great 
 Thou wert in thy minde's empire, and how all 
 Who out-live thee, see but the funerall 
 Of glory: and if yet some vertuous be, 
 They but weake apparitions are of thee. 
 So settled were thy thoughts, each action so 
 Discretely ordered, that nor ebbe nor flow 
 Was e're perceiv'd in thee ; each word mature, 
 And every sceane of life from sinne so pure, 
 That scarce in its whole history we can 
 Finde vice enough, to say thou wert but man, 
 Horrour to say thou wert ! Curst that we must 
 Addresse our language to a little dust. 
 And seeke for Talbot there ! Injurious fate, 
 To lay my life's ambition desolate ! 
 Yet thus much comfort have I, that I know 
 Not how it can give such another blow. 
 
PART THIRD. 295 
 
 ELEGIE V 
 
 Oiiast as the nun's first tow, as faircly bright 
 As when by death her soul shines in full light 
 Freed from th' eclipse of Earth, each word that 
 
 came 
 From thee (dearc Talbot) did beget a (lame 
 T' enkindle vertue : which so fairc by thee 
 Became, man, that blind mole, her face did see. 
 But now to our eye she's lost ; and if she dwell 
 Yet on the Earth, she's confin'd in the cell 
 Of some cold hermit, who so keeps her there, 
 As if of her the old man jealous were : 
 Nor ever showes her beauty, but to some 
 Carthusian, who even by his vow, is dumber. 
 
%96 CASTARA. 
 
 So 'raid the jce of the farre northern sea, 
 
 A starre about the articke circle may 
 
 Than ours yeeld clearer light ; yet that but shall 
 
 Serve at the frozen pilot's funerall. 
 
 Thou (brightest constellation) to this maine 
 
 Which all Ave sinners trafhque on, didst daigne 
 
 The bounty of thy fire, which with so cleare 
 
 And constant beanies did our frayle vessels steer e 
 
 That safely we, what storm so e're bore sway, 
 
 Past o're the rugged Alpes of th' angry sea. 
 
 But now we sayle at randome. Every rocke 
 
 The folly doth of our ambition mocke. 
 
 And splits our hopes : to every syren's breath 
 
 We listen, and even court the face of death, 
 
 If painted o're by pleasure: every wave, 
 
 If't hath delight, w' embrace, though 't prove a 
 
 grave. 
 So ruinous is the defect of thee, 
 To th' undone world in gen'rall : but to me 
 Who liv'd one life with thine, drew but one breath, 
 Possest with the same mind and thoughts, 'twas 
 
 death. 
 And now by fate, I but my selfe survive, 
 To keepe his mem'ry, and my gricfes alire, 
 
PART THIRD. 1<)7 
 
 Where shall I then begin to weepc ? No grove 
 Silent and darke, but is prophan'd by love : 
 With his warme whispers, and faint idle fcares, 
 His busie hopes, loud sighes, and caselesse teares 
 Each care is so enchanted, that no breath 
 Is listened to, which mockes report of death. 
 Tic turne my griefe then inward, and deplore 
 My ruine to my selfe, repeating ore 
 The story of his virtues, until I 
 Not write, but am my selfe his elcgie. 
 
298 CASTARA. 
 
 ELEGIE VI. 
 
 Ooe stop the swift-wing'd moments in their flight 
 To their yet unknowne coast, goe hinder night 
 From its approach on day, and force day rise 
 From the faire east of some bright beautie's eyes : 
 Else vaunt not the proud miracle of Terse. 
 It hath no power. For mine from his blacke 
 
 herse 
 Redeemes not Talbot, who cold as the breath 
 Of winter, coffin'd lyes ; silent as death, 
 Stealing on th' anch'rit, who eyen wants an eare 
 To breathe into his soft expiring prayer. 
 For had thy life bcene by thy vertues spun 
 Out to a length, thou hadst ouUliv'd the Sunne, 
 
PART THIRD. 290 
 
 And clos'd tbe world's great eye : or were not all 
 
 Our wonders fiction, from thy funerall 
 
 Thou hadst received new life, and liv'd to be 
 
 The conqueror o're death, inspired by me. 
 
 But all we poets glory in, is vaine 
 
 And empty triumph: Art cannot regainc 
 
 One poore hourc lost, nor reskew a small flyc 
 
 By a foole's finger destinate to dye. 
 
 Live then in thy true life (great soule) for set 
 
 At liberty by death, thou owest no debt 
 
 T' exacting Nature : live, freed from the sport 
 
 Of time and fortune, in yand' starry court 
 
 A glorious potentate, while we below 
 
 But fashion wayes to mitigate our woe. 
 
 We follow campes, and to our hopes propose 
 
 Th' insulting victor ; not rememb'ring those 
 
 Dismembred trunkes, who gave him victory 
 
 By a loath'd fate ; we covetous merchants be, 
 
 And to our aymes pretend treasure and sway, 
 
 Forgetfull of the treasons of the sea. 
 
 The shootings of a wounded conscience 
 
 We patiently sustain e, to serve our sence 
 
 With a short pleasure ; so we empire gaine 
 
 And rule the fate of btisiuessc \ the sad paine 
 
300 CASTARA. 
 
 Of action we contemne, and the affright 
 Which with pale visions still attends our night. 
 Our joyes false apparitions, but our feares 
 Are certaine prophecies : and till our ears 
 Reach that cselestiall musique, which thine now 
 So cheerefully receive, we must allow 
 No comfort to our griefes : from which to be 
 Exempted, is in death to follow thee. 
 
fAKT THIRD. ."50 I 
 
 KLEGIK VII. 
 
 J here is no peace in sinne. TEfernall warr 
 Doth rage 'mong vices. But all vertues are 
 Friends 'mong themselves, and choisest accents be 
 Harsh ccchos of their hea>enly harmonic. 
 While thou didst live, we did that union finde 
 In the so faire republick of thy mind, 
 Where discord never swel'd. And as we dare 
 Affirme, those goodly structures temples are, 
 Where well-tuo'd quires strike zeale into the earc; 
 The musique of thy soule made us say, there 
 God had his altars ; every breath a spice, 
 And each religions act a sacrifice. 
 Bute! a ath that demolish't. All our eye 
 Of chee now sees ; doth like a cittie lye 
 
230 CASTARA. 
 
 Ras'd by the cannon. Where is then that flame 
 
 That added warmth and beauty to thy frame ? 
 
 Fled heaven- ward to repaire, with its pure fire ? 
 
 The losses of some raaim'd seraphick quire ? 
 
 Or hovers it beneath, the world V uphold 
 
 From generall mine, and expel that cold 
 
 Dull humour weakens it ? If so it be, 
 
 My sorrow yet must prayse Fate's charity. 
 
 But thy example (if kinde Heaven had daign'd 
 
 Frailty that favour) had mankind regain'd 
 
 To his first purity. For that the wit 
 
 Of vice might not except 'gainst th' anchorit 
 
 As too, too strict ; thou didst uncioyster'd live : 
 
 Teaching the soule by what preservative 
 
 She may from sinnes contagion live secure, 
 
 Though all the ayre she suckt in were impure. 
 
 In this darke mist of errour, with a cleare 
 
 Vnspotted light thy vertue did appearc 
 
 T' obrayd corrupted man. How could the rage 
 
 Of untam'd lust have scorcht decrepit age 9 
 
 Had it seene thy chast youth ? Who could the 
 
 wealth 
 Of time have spent in riot, or his health 
 By surfeits forfeited, if he had seene 
 What temperance had in thy dyet beene ? 
 
PART THIKD. 
 
 What glorious foolc had vaunted honours bought 
 
 By gold or practise, or by rapin brought 
 
 From his fore-fathers, had lie understood 
 
 How Talbot valued ootids own great blood? 
 
 Had politicians scene him scorning more 
 
 The unsafe pompc of greatnesse, than the poore 
 
 Thatcht roofes of shepheards, where th' unruly 
 
 wind 
 (A gentler storme than pride) uncheckt doth find 
 Still free admittance : their pale labours had 
 Beetle to be good, not to be great and bad. 
 But he is lost in a blind vault, and we 
 Must not admire, though sinncs now frequent be 
 And uncontroTd : since those faire tables, where 
 The law was writ, by death now broken are, 
 By d^ath extinguisht is that star, whose light 
 Did shine so faithful 1, that each ship sayl'd ri^ht 
 Which steer'd by that. Nor marvell then if wc 
 (That failing) lost in this world's tempest be. 
 But to what orbe so c're thou dost retyre, 
 Far from our ken, 'tis blest, while by thy lire 
 Enlighten'd. And since thou must never here 
 Be scene againe, may I o're take thee there ! 
 
304 CASTARA. 
 
 ELEGIE VIII. 
 
 i^oAST not the rev'rend Vatican, nor all 
 
 The cunning pompe of the Escuriall : 
 
 Though there both th' Indies met in each small 
 
 room, 
 Th' are short in treasure of this precious tombe. 
 Here is th' epitome of wealth; this chest 
 Is Nature's chief exchequer ; hence the East, 
 When it is purified by th' gcnerall fire, 
 Shall see these now pale ashes sparkle higher 
 Than all the gems she vants : transcending far 
 In fragrant lustre 73 the bright morning star. 
 
 13 Fragrant lustre. 
 Perhaps from Ausonius. 
 
 Twere doubtful if the blossoms of the rose 
 Had robb'd the morning, or the morning those. 
 
 
PART THIRD. 305 
 
 'Tis true, they now sccmc darke : but rather we 
 Have by a cataract lost sight, than he, 
 Though dead, his glory. So to us blacke night 
 Brings darknesse, when the sunne retains his light. 
 Thou eclips'd dust ! expecting brcakc of day 
 'From the thicke mists about thy tombe, I'lc pay, 
 Like the just larke, the tribute of my verse : 
 I will invite thee from thy envious herse 
 To rise, and 'bout the world thy bcames to spread, 
 That we may see there's brightnesse in the dead. 
 My zeale deludes me not. What perfumes come 
 From th' happy vault ? In her sweet martyrdom* 
 The nard breathes never so, nor so the rose, 
 When the enamour'd Spring by kissing blowei 
 Soft blushes on her cheeke, nor th' early East, 
 Vying with Parad^ce, i' th' phoenix nest. 
 These gentle perfumes usher in the day, 
 Which from the night of his discolour'd clay 
 Brcakes on the sudden : for a soule so bright 
 Of force must to her earth contribute light. 
 
 In dew, in tint the same, the star and flower ; 
 For both confess the queen of beaut\'s power : 
 Perchance their sweets the same : but this nvre nigh 
 Exhales it* breath, aud that iinbelon the ?ky. 
 
 X 
 
306 CASTARA. 
 
 But if w* are so far blind we cannot see 
 The wonder of this truth, yet let us be. 
 Not infidels : nor like dull atheists give 
 Our selves so long to lust 5 till we believe 
 T* allay the griefe of sinne) that we shall fall 
 To a loath'd nothing in our funerall. 
 
 The bad man's death is horror ; but the just 
 Keepes something of his glory in his dust. 
 
Castara* 
 
 PART THE FOURTH. 
 
A HOLY xMAN 
 
 Is onely happie. For infelicity and sinne were borne 
 twinnes ; or rather like some prodigie with two bodies, 
 both draw and expire the same breath. Catholique faith 
 is the foundation on which he erects religion ; knowing it 
 a ruinous madnesse to build in the ayre of a private spirit, 
 or on the sands of any new schisme. His impietie is not 
 io bold to bring divinity downe to the mistake of reason, 
 ©r to deny those misteries his apprehension reacheth not. 
 His obedience moves still by direction of the magistrate : 
 and, should conscience informe him that the command is 
 unjust, he judgeth it neverthelesse high treason by re- 
 bellion to make good his tenets ; as it were the basest 
 cowardize, by dissimulation of religion, to preserve tem- 
 porall respects. Hee knowes humane pollicie but a 
 crooked rule of action : and therefore by a distrust of his 
 own knowledge attaines it: confounding with supernatu- 
 ral! illumination, the opinionated judgment of the wise. 
 
A HOLY MAN', 309 
 
 In prosperity he gratefully admiras the bounty of the 
 Almighty giver, a:id useth, not abuseth plenty: but in 
 adversity he remaines unshaken, and like some eminent 
 mountaine hath his head above the clouds. For his Iiap- 
 pinesse is not, meteor-like, exhaled frum the vapours of 
 this world ; but shines a fixt stane, which, when by mi>- 
 fortune it appears to fall, onely casts away the sliraie 
 matter. Poverty he neither feares nor covets, but cheere- 
 fully entertaines; imagining it the fire which tries vertue : 
 nor how tyrannically soever it usurpe on him, doth he 
 pay to it a sigh or wrinckle ; for he who sutlers want 
 without reluctancie, may be poore not miserable. He 
 sees the covetous prosper by usury, yet waxetli not leane 
 with cnvie : ami when the posteritie of the impious flou- 
 rish, he questiones not the divine justice ; for temporall 
 rewards distinguish not ever the merits of men : and who 
 hath beene of councel with the ./Cternall ? Fame he 
 weighes not, but esteemes a smoake, yet such as carries 
 with it the sweetest odour, and riseth usually from the 
 sacrifice of our best actions. Pride he disdaines, when he 
 findes it swelling in himselfe ; but easily forgiveth it in 
 another : Nor can any man's errour in life make him 
 sinne in censure, since seldome the folly we condemne is so 
 culpable as the severity of our judgement. He doth not 
 malice the over-spreading growth of his aequalls : but 
 pitties, not despiseth the fall of any man : esteeming yet 
 no storme of fortune dangerous, but what is rais'd through 
 ©ur owne demerit.. When he lookes on other's vices, he 
 
310 A HOLY MAN". 
 
 values not himselfe virtuous by comparison, but examines 
 his owne defects, and findes matter enough at home for 
 reprehension. In conversation his carriage is neither 
 plausible to flattery, nor reserved to rigour : but so de- 
 meanes himselfe as created for societie. In solitude he 
 remembers his Letter part is angelical!; and therefore 
 his minde practiseth the best discourse without assistance 
 of inferiour organs. Lust is the basiliske he fives, a 
 serpent of the most destroying venome : for it blasts all 
 plants with the breath, and carries the most murdering 
 artillery in the eye. He is ever merry, but still modest : 
 not dissolved into undecent laughter, or tickled with wit 
 scurrilous or injurious. He cunningly searcheth into the 
 vertues of others, and liberally commends them : but 
 buries the vices of the imperfect in a charitable silence, 
 whose manners he reformes not by invectives but example. 
 In prayer he is frequent, not apparent : yet as he labours 
 not the opinion, so he feares not the scandall of being 
 thought good. He every day travailes his meditations up 
 to Heaven, and never findes himself wearied with the 
 journey ; but when the necessities of nature returne him 
 downe to Earth, he esteemes it a place he is condemned 
 to. Devotion is his mistresse on which he is passionately 
 enamour'd : for he hath found the most soveraigne anti- 
 dote against sinne, aud the onely balsome powerful to cure 
 those wounds hee hath receavM through frailety. To live 
 he knowes a benefit, and the contempt of it ingratitude, 
 and therefore loves, but not doates on life. Death how 
 
K HOLY MAN. 311 
 
 deformed soever an aspect it weares, he is not frighted 
 with: since it not annihilates, but uncloudes the soule. 
 lie therefore stands every moment prepared to dye : and 
 though he freely yeelds up himselfe, when age or sick- 
 nesse summon him ; yet he with more alacritie puts off 
 his earth, when the profession of faith crownes him a 
 martyr. 
 

 
part Jrouttk 
 
 DOMINE LABIA MEA APERIFS; 
 
 .Noe monument of me remaine, 
 My mem'orie rust 
 In the same marble with my dust, 
 Ere I the spreading laurell gaine, 
 By writing wanton or prophane. 
 
 Ye glorious wonders of the skies, 
 Shine still, bright starres, 
 Th' Almightie's mystick characters ! 
 I'le not your beautious lights surprize^ 
 T' illuminate a woman's eyes. 
 
 DAVID* 
 
314 CAST All A. 
 
 Nor, to perfume her veines, will I, 
 In each one set 
 The purple of the violet : 
 The untoucht flowre may grow and dye 
 Safe from my fancie's injurie. 
 
 Open my lippes, great God ! and then 
 He soare above 
 The humble flight of carnall love : 
 Vpward to thee He force my pen, 
 And trace no path of vulgar men. 
 
 For what can our unbounded soules 
 Worthy to be 
 Their object finde, excepting thee ? 
 Where can I fixe ? since time controules 
 Our pride, whose motion all things roules. 
 
 Should I my selfe ingratiate 
 T' a prince's smile, 
 How soone may death my hopes beguile ? 
 And should I farme the proudest state, 
 I'me tennant to uncertaine fate. 
 
PART FOUUTU. 315 
 
 If I court gold, will it not rust ? 
 And if my love 
 Toward a female beauty move, 
 How will that surfet of our lust 
 Distast us, when resolv'd to dust? 
 
 But thou, yEternall banquet ! where 
 For ever we 
 May feede without satietie ! 
 "Who harmonie art to the eare! 
 Who art, while all things else appeare ! 
 
 While up to thee I shoote my flame. 
 Thou dost dispence 
 A holy death, that murders sence ; 
 And makes me scorne all pompes, that ayme 
 At other triumphes than thy name. 
 
 It crownes mc with a victory 
 So heavenly, ail 
 That's earth from me away doth fall ; 
 And I, from my corruption free. 
 Grow in my vowes even part of thee. 
 
316 CASTARA. 
 
 VERSA EST IN LUCTUM CYTHARA ME A. 
 
 IOB. 
 
 JLove ! I no orgies sing 
 Whereby thy mercies to invoke : 
 Nor from the East rich perfumes bring 
 To cloude thy altars with the precious smoake. 
 
 Nor while I did frequent 
 Those fanes by lovers rais'd to thee> 
 Did I loose heathenish rifes invent. 
 To force a blush from injur'd chastitie. 
 
 Religious was the charme 
 I used, affection to intice : 
 
 And thought none burnt more bright or warme ; 
 Yet chaste as winter was the sacrifice. 
 
PART FOURTH. 317 
 
 But now I thee bequeath 
 To the soft silken youths at court : 
 Who may their witty passions breath, 
 To raise their mistrcssc' smile, or make her sport, 
 
 They'le smooth thee into rime, 
 Such as shall catch the wanton care : 
 And win opinion with the time, 
 To make them a high sayle of honour beare. 
 
 And may a powerful! smile 
 Cherish their flatteries of wit! 
 While I my life of fame beguile, 
 And under my owne vine uncourted sit. 
 
 For I have seen the pine, 
 . Famed for its travels ore the sea, 
 Broken with stormes and age decline, 
 And in some creek unpittied rot away. 
 
 I have scene canlars fall, 
 And in their roome a mnshrome grow : 
 I have secne comets, threatning all, 
 Vanish themselves : I have seene princes so. 
 
318 CASTARA. 
 
 Vaine triviall dust ! weake man ! 
 Where is that vertue of thy breath, 
 That others save or ruine can, 
 When thou thy selfe art cal'd t' account by Death ? 
 
 When I consider thee, 
 The scorne of Time, and sport of Fate ; 
 How can I turne to joliitie 
 My ill-strung harpe, and court the delicate ? 
 
 How can I but disdaine 
 The emptie fallacies of mirth ; 
 And in my midnight thoughts retaine, 
 How high so ere I spread^ my root's in earth ? — 
 
 Fond youth ! too long I play'd 
 The wanton with a false delight ; 
 Which when I toucht, I found a shade; 
 That onely wrought on th' errour of my sight. 
 
 Then since pride doth betray 
 The soule to flatter'd ignorance : 
 I from the world will steale away. 
 And by humility my thoughts advance. 
 
PAUT FOURTH. 319 
 
 PERDAM SAP1ENTIAM SAPIENTLM. 
 
 TO THE RIGHT HON. 
 
 THE LORD WINDSOR. 47 
 
 My Lord, 
 
 -T orgive my cnvie to the world, while I 
 Commend these sober thoughts, perswade you fly 
 The glorious troubles of the court. For though 
 The vale lyes open to each overflow, 
 
 ?* The Lord Windsor. 
 
 Thomas, sixth Lord Windsor. He was rear-admiral in 
 thai fleet, sent by king James to bring prince Charles out 
 of Spain. At which time he nobly entertained on ship- 
 board the grandees of that court; hid equipage and expeuces 
 standing him in no less than =£15,000. A person of a most 
 free and generous spirit, much accomplished with learning, 
 
320 CASTARA. 
 
 And in the humble shade we gather ill 
 
 And aguish ayres ; yet lightnings oftner kill 
 
 O' th' naked heights of mountaines, whereon we 
 
 May haye more prospect, not securitie. 
 
 For when, with losse of breath, we have orecome 
 
 Some steepe ascent of power, and forc'd a roome 
 
 On the so envi'd hill, how doe our hearts 
 
 Pant with the labour, and how many arts 
 
 More subtle must we practise, to defend 
 
 Our pride from sliding, than we did V ascend ? 
 
 How doth successe delude the mysteries, 
 
 And all th' involv'd designements of the wise ? 
 
 How doth that power, our pollitickes call chance, 
 
 Racke them, till they confesse the ignorance 
 
 Of humane wit ? Which, when 'tis fortified 
 
 So strong with reason, that it doth deride 
 
 All adverse force, o' th' sudden findes its head 
 
 Intangled in a spider's slender thread. 
 
 especially antiquities, and sundry useful observations by bii 
 (ravels through France, Italy, and other foreign parts. He 
 married Catherine, daughter to Edward, Earl of Worcester ; 
 (Lord Privy seal,) and died without issue, Dec. 6. 1642. 
 
 Collins s Peerage? VoU iv. 
 
PART FOURTH. 32 [ 
 
 Coclestiall Providence ! how thou dost mocke 
 The boast of earthly wisdome ! On some rocke 
 When man hath rcar'd a structure, with such art 
 It doth disdaine to tremble at the dart 
 Of thunder, or to shrinke, oppos'd by all 
 The angry winds, it of it selfe doth fall, 
 Ev'n in a calme so gentle, that no ayre 
 Breaths loud enough to stirre a virgin's Iiaire! 
 But, misery of judgement! Though past time, 
 Instruct us by th' ill fortune of their crimes, 
 And show us how we may secure our state 
 From pittied ruine, by another's fate; 
 Yet we, contemning all such sad advice, 
 Pursue to build, though on a precipice. 
 
 But you (my lord) prevented by foresight 
 To engage your selfe to such an unsafe height, 
 And in your selfe both great and rich enough, 
 Refused V expose your vessell to the rough 
 Vncertaine sea of businesse : whence even they, 
 Who make the best returne, are fore'd to say : 
 " The wealth we by our worldly traffiquc gaine 
 Weighs light, if ballanc'd with the feare or paine." 
 
322 CASTARA. 
 
 PAUCITATEM DIERUM MEORUM NUNCIA MIHI. 
 
 I 
 BAVIB. 
 
 Tell me, O great All-knowing God ! 
 
 What period 
 Hast thou unto my dayes assign'd ? 
 Like some old leafelesse tree, shall I 
 Wither away, or violently 
 Fall by the axe, by lightning, or the wind : 
 
 Heere, where I first drew vitall breath, 
 
 Shall I meete death ? 
 And finde in the same vault a roome 
 Where my fore-fathers' ashes sleepe ? 
 Or shall I dye, where none shall weepe 
 My timelesse fate, and my cold earth intombe r 
 
PART FOURTH. 323 
 
 Shall I 'gainst the swift Parthians fight. 
 
 And in their flight 
 Receive my death r Or shall I see 
 That envied peace, in which we are 
 Triumphant yet, disturb'd by warre, 
 And perish by th' invading enemie ? 
 
 Astrologers, who calculate 
 
 Vncertaine fate, 
 Aflirme my scheme doth not presage 
 Any abridgement of my dayes : 
 And the physitian gravely sayes, 
 I may enjoy a reverent length of age. 
 
 But they are jugglers, and by slight 
 
 Of art the sight 
 Of faith delude : and in their schoole 
 They onely practise how to make 
 A mistery of each mistake, 
 And teach strange words credulity to foole, 
 
 For thou, who first didst motion give., 
 
 Whereby things live, 
 And time hath being, to conceale 
 
324 CASTARA. 
 
 Future events didst thinke it fit ; 
 
 To checke th' ambition of our wit, 
 
 And keepe in awe the curious search of zeale. 
 
 Therefore, so I prepar'd still be, 
 
 My God, for thee, 
 O'th' sudden on my spirits may 
 Some killing apoplexie seize. 
 Or let me by a dull disease, 
 Or weakened by a feeble age, decay. 
 
 And so I in thy favour dye, 
 
 No memorie 
 For me a well-wrought tombe prepare: 
 For if my soule be 'mong the blest, 
 Though my poore ashes want a chest, 
 I shall forgive the trespasse of my heire. 
 
PART FOURTH. 325 
 
 NON NOBIS DOMINE. 
 
 DAVID. 
 
 JN o marble statue, nor high 
 Aspiring pyramid, be rais'd 
 To lose its head within the skie : 
 What claim have I to memory ? 
 
 God, be thou onely prais'd ! 
 
 Thou in a moment canst defeate 
 The mighty conquests of the proude. 
 And blast the laurels of the great : 
 Thou canst make brightest glorie set 
 0> th' sudden in a cloude. 
 
326 CASTARA. 
 
 How can the feeble workes of art 
 Hold out 'gainst the assault of stormes ? 
 Or how can brasse to him impart 
 Sence of surviving fame, whose heart 
 Is now resolv'd to wormes ? 
 
 Blinde folly of triumphing pride ! 
 iEternitie why buildst thou here? 
 Dost thou not see the highest tide 
 Its humbled streame in th' ocean hide, 
 And nere the same appeare ? 
 
 That tide which did its banckes ore-flow. 
 As sent abroad by th' angry sea 
 To levell vastest buildings low. 
 And all our trophes overthrow, 
 Ebbes like a theefe away. 
 
 And thou, who to preserve thy name, 
 Leav'st statues in some conquer'd land j 
 How will posterity scorne fame, 
 When th' idoll shall receive a maime, 
 And loose a foot or hand ? 
 
PART FOURTH. 3Z7 
 
 How wilt thou hate thy warrcs, when he, 
 Who onely for his hire did raise 
 Thy counterfct in stone, with thee 
 Shall stand competitor, and be 
 
 Perhaps thought worthier praise? 
 
 No laurell wreath about my brow ! 
 To thee, my God, all praise, whose law 
 The conquer'd doth and conqueror bow ! 
 For both dissolve to ayre, if thou 
 Thy influence but withdraw. 
 
328 CASTARA. 
 
 SOLUM MIHI SUPEREST SEPULCHRUM, 
 
 IOB, 
 
 W elcome, thou safe retreate ! 
 Where th' injured man may fortifie 
 ^Gainst the invasions of the great : 
 Where the leane slave, who th' ore doth plye ? 
 Soft as his admirall may lye. 
 
 Great statist ! 'tis your doome, 
 Though your designes swell high and wide, 
 To be contracted in a tombe ! 75 
 
 75 To be contracted in a tomb. 
 This ode is in the spirit of Horace. Od. 18. lib.2» 
 
 Tu secanda rcarmora, &c. 
 
PART FOURTH. 
 
 And all your happie cares provide 
 But for your heire authorized pride. 
 
 Nor shall your shade delight 
 I'th' pon.pc of your proud obsequies : 
 And should the present flattcrie write 
 A glorious epitaph, the wise 
 Will say, " The poet's wit here lyes." 
 
 But you, with thoughtless pride elate, 
 Unconscious of impending fate, 
 Command the pillar'd dome to rise, 
 When lo ! thy tomb forgotten lies. 
 
 Dr. Francis, 
 
 Extructus in altum 
 Divitiis, &c. Od. 3. lib. 2. 
 
 You must, my Dellius, yield to fate, 
 And to your heir these high-pil'd treasures leave., 
 
 Id. 
 
 JEqua. tellus 
 
 Pauperi recluditur, &c. — Od. 18. lib. 2. 
 
 For earth impartial entertains 
 Her various sons ; and in her breast 
 Princes and beggars equal rest. 
 
 Id. 
 
330 CASTARA, 
 
 How reconciPd to fate 
 Will grow the aged villager, 
 When he shall see your funerall state ! 
 Since death will him as warme inter 
 As you in your gay sepulchre* 
 
 The great decree of God 
 Makes every path of mortals lead 
 To this darke common period : 
 For what by wayes so ere we tread, 
 We end our journey 'mong the dead. 
 
 Even I, while humble zeale 
 Makes fancie a sad truth indite, 
 Insensible away doe steale : 
 And when 1'me lost in death's cold night. 
 Who will remember, now I writer 
 
PART FOURTH. 331 
 
 ET FUGIT VELLT UMBRA. 
 
 IOB. 
 
 TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE 
 
 THE LORD KINTYRE.™ 
 
 My Lord, 
 
 J hat shadow your faire body made, 
 
 So full of sport, it still the mimick playde. 
 
 ™ The Lord Kintyre, 
 James, son of Archibald, 7th Earl of Argvle, by his 
 second wife Anne, daughter of Sir William Cornwallis, was 
 created Lord Kintyre by James VI. in 1622; and by King 
 Charle> I. dignified with the title of Earl of Irvine; by 
 letters patent, bearing date 1642. 
 
 Collins. 
 
332 CASTARA. 
 
 Ev'n as you mov'd and look'd, but yesterday 
 So huge in stature, night had stolne away : 
 And this is th' emblem of our life : to please 
 And flatter which, we sayle ore broken seas, 
 Vnfaithfull in their rockes and tides ; we dare 
 All the sicke humours of a forraine ayre, 
 And mine so deepe in earth, as we would trie 
 To unlocke Hell, should gold there hoarded lie- 
 But when we have built up an aedlfice 
 T' outwrastle time, we have but built on ice : 
 For firme however all our structures be, 
 Polisht with smoothest Indian ivory, 
 Rais'd high on marble, our unthankfull heire 
 Will scarce retaine in memory, that we w r eree 
 Tracke thro' the ay re the footsteps of the wind, 
 And search the print of ships saiPd by ; then finde 
 Where all the glories of those monarchs be, 
 Who bore such sway in the worlds infancie. 
 Time hath devour'd them all: and scarce can 
 
 Fame 
 Give an account, that ere they had a name. 
 How can he, then, who doth the world controle, 
 And strikes a terrour now in either pole, 
 
PART FOURTH. 333 
 
 Th' insulting Turke, secure himself, that he 
 
 Shall not be lost to dull posterity ? 
 
 And though the superstition of those times, 
 
 Which defied kings to warrant their owne crimes, 
 
 Translated Caesar to a starre ; yet they, 
 
 Who every region of the skic survay, 
 
 In their ccclestiall travaile, that bright coast 
 
 Could nere discover, which containes his ghost. 
 
 And after death to make that awe survive 
 
 Which subjects owe their princes yet alive, 
 
 Though they build pallaces of brasse and jet, 
 
 And keepe them living in a counterfet, 
 
 The curious looker on soone passes by, 
 
 And findes the tombe a sicknesse to his eye. 
 
 Neither, when once the soule is gone, doth all 
 
 The solemne triumph of the funerall 
 
 Adde to her glory, or her paine release : 
 
 Then all the pride of warre, and wealth of peace 
 
 For which we toil'd, from us abstracted be, 
 
 And onely serve to swell the history. 
 
 These are sad thoughts (my lord) and such a*: 
 fright 
 The easie soule, made tender with delight. 
 
334 CASTARA. 
 
 Who thinkes that he hath forfetted that houre, 
 Which addes not to his pleasure or his powre. 
 But by the friendship which your lordship daignes 
 Your servant, I have found your judgement raignes 
 Above all passion in you : and that sence 
 Could never yet demolish that strong fence 
 Which vertue guards you with : by which you are 
 Triumphant in the best, the inward warre. 
 
PART FOURTH. 335 
 
 
 NOX NOCTI INDICAT SCJENTIAM. 
 
 DAVID, 
 
 When I survay the bright 
 Coelestiall spheare : 
 So rich with jewels hung, that night 
 Doth like an Ethiop bride 77 appeare: 
 
 My soule her wings doth spread, 
 And heaven-ward flies. 
 
 W Like an Mthiop bride. 
 Perhaps suggested by Shakspeare — Romeo and Juliet : 
 
 A.l, S. 5, 
 Her beauty hangs upon the cheek of Night 
 Like a rich jewel in an yEthiop's ear, 
 
336 CASTARA. 
 
 The Almighty's mysteries to read 
 In the large volumes of the skies. 
 
 For the bright firmament 
 Shootes forth no flame 
 So silent, but is eloquent 
 In speaking the Creator's name. 
 
 No unregarded star 
 Contracts its light 
 Into so small a character, 
 RemoY'd far from our humane sight. 
 
 But if we stedfast looke 
 We shall discerne 
 In it, as in some holy booke, 
 How man may heavenly knowledge learne. 
 
 It tells the conqueror, 
 
 That farre-stretcht powre. 
 Which his proud dangers traffique for, 
 Is but the triumph of an houre. 
 
 That, from the farthest North ? 
 Some nation may 
 
PART FOURTH. 337 
 
 Yet undiscovered issue forth, 
 
 And ore his new got conquest sway, 
 
 Some nation, yd shut in 
 With hils of ice, 
 May be let out to scourge his sinne, 
 Till they shall equall him in vice. 
 
 And then they likewise shall 
 Their ruine have ; 
 For as your selves your empires fall, 
 And every kingdom hath a grave. 
 
 Thus those coelestiall fires, 
 Though seeming mute, 
 The fallacie of our desires, 
 And all the pride of life, confute. 
 
 For they have watch t since first 
 The world had birth : 
 And found sinne in it sclfe accurst, 
 And nothing permanent on Earth. 
 
338 PART FOURTH. 
 
 ET ALTA A L6NGE COGNOSCIT. 
 
 DAVID. 
 
 1 o the cold humble hermitage 
 (Not tenanted but by discoloured age. 
 
 Or youth enfeebled by long prayer, 
 And tame with fasts) th' Almighty doth repaire. 
 
 But from the lofty gilded roofe, 
 Stain'd with some pagan fiction, keepes aloofe. 
 
 Nor the gay landlord daignes to know, 
 Whose buildings are like monsters but for show. 
 
 Ambition ! wither wilt thee climbe, 
 Knowing thy art the mockery of time? 
 
 Which, by examples, tells the high 
 Rich structures, they must, as their owners, dye : 
 
PART FOURTH. .'I.'JD 
 
 And, while they stand, their tennants are 
 Detraction, Flatt'ry, Wantonnesse, and Care, 
 
 Pride, Ernie, Arrogance, and Doubt, 
 Surfet, and Ease sfill tortured by the gout. 
 
 O rather may I patient dwell 
 In th' injuries of an ill covered cell ! 
 
 'Gainst whose too wcake defence the haile, 
 The angry winds, and frequent shovvres prevail;* : 
 
 Where the swift measures of the day 
 Shall be distinguish t onely as I pray : 
 
 And some starres solitary light 
 Be the sole taper to the tedious night ! 
 
 The neighboring fouutaine (not accurst 
 Like wine with madnesse) shall allay my thirst ; 
 
 And the wilde fruites of Nature give 
 Dyet enough, to let me feele I live. 
 
 You wantons! who impoverish seas, 
 And th' ay re dispeople, your proud taste to please ! 
 
 A greedy tyrant you obey, 
 Who varies still its tribute with the day. 
 
 What interest doth all the vaine 
 Cunning of surfet to your sences gaine ; 
 
 Since it obscure the spirit must, 
 And bow the Hesh to sleepc, disease or lust? 
 
340 PART FOURTH. 
 
 While who, forgetting rest and fare, 
 Watcheth the fall and rising of each starre. 
 
 Ponders how bright the orbes doe move. 
 And thence how much more bright the Heav'ns 
 above, 
 
 Where on the heads of cherubins 
 Th' Almightie sits, disdaining our bold sinnes : 
 
 Who, while on th' Earth we groveling lye, 
 Dare in our pride of building tempt the skie. 
 
 , 
 
PART FOURTH. 341 
 
 VNIVERSUM STATUM EJUS VERSASTI IN 
 INFIRMITATE EJUS. 
 
 DAVID. 
 
 4 My soule ! when thou and I 
 Shall on our frighted death-bed lie, 
 
 ' 8 Flatman, a now neglected poet of Charles the Second's 
 time, has an ode on this subject ; which, as his poems are 
 become scarce, I shall transcribe : and which merits preser- 
 vation from its natural simplicity. 
 
 Oh the sad day, 
 
 When friends shall shake their heads, and say 
 
 Of miserable me, 
 
342 PART FOURTH. 
 
 Each moment watching when pale Death 
 Shall snatch away our latest breath. 
 
 Hark how he groans ! look how he pants for breath ! 
 See how he struggles with the pangs of death ! 
 When they shall say of these poor eyes 
 
 How hollow and how dim they be ! 
 Mark how his breast doth swell and rise 
 Against his potent enemy ! 
 When some old friend shall step to my bed-side. 
 Touch my chill face, and thence shall gently slide ; 
 
 And, when his next companions say, 
 " How doth he do ? What hopes ?" shall turn away ; 
 Answering only with a lift-up hand, 
 " Who can his fate withstand !" 
 Then shall a gasp or two do more 
 Than ere my Rhetoricke could before ; 
 Persuade the peevish world to trouble me no more. 
 
 Rochester says of Flatman ; 
 Nor that slow drudge in swift Pindaric strain^, 
 
 Jlatman ; who Cowley imitates with pains ; 
 
 And rides a jaded Muse, whipt with loose rein«. 
 Bat pindarics and pastorals were the rage of the times : and 
 FJatman's were, probably, as good as those of his neighbours. 
 He was, certainly, a favorite among the wits and poets of his 
 •lay : and notwithstanding the contempt into which he has 
 fallen, some of his pieces have merit. Pope, who distinguish- 
 ed excellence, wherever found, had Flatman in view, when 
 
PA'RT FOURTH. 343 
 
 And 'Iwocne two long joy n'd lovers force 
 An endlesse sad divorce : 
 
 How wilt thou then, that art 
 My rationall and nobler part, 
 Distort thy thoughts ? How wilt thou try 
 To draw from weake philosophic 
 Some strength ; and flatter thy poore stato. 
 
 'Cause 'tis the common fate ? 
 
 How will thy spirits pant 
 And tremble, when they feele the want 
 
 he wrote "The dying Christian to his soul:" but, perhaps, 
 ashamed of his prototype, confessed only to Sappho and Adrian. 
 
 When on my sick bed I languish 
 
 Full of sorrow ; full of anguish : 
 
 Fainting, gasping, trembling, crying, 
 
 Panting, groaning, speechless, dying, 
 
 My soul just now about to take her flight 
 
 To the dark regions of eternal night. 
 
 Flat man. 
 
 Trembling, hoping, lingering, flying, 
 Oh ! the pain, the bliss of'dying. 
 
 Pops 
 
344 PART FOURTH* 
 
 Of th' usual organs, and that all 
 The vitall powers begin to fall ? 
 When 'tis decreed, that thou must goe. 
 Yet whether, who can know ? 
 
 How fond and idle then 
 will seeme the niisteries of men ? 
 How like some dull ill-acted part 
 The subtlest of proud humaueart ? 
 How shallow ev'n the deepest sea, 
 
 When thus we ebbe away ? 
 
 But how shall I (that is, 
 My fainting earth) looke pale at this ? 
 Disjointed on the racke of pain. 
 How shall I murmur, how complaine ? 
 And craving all the ayde of skill, 
 
 Finde none but what must kill ? 
 
 Which way so ere my griefe 
 Doth throw my sight to court releefe^ 
 I shall but meete despaire, for all 
 Will prophesie my funerall : 
 The very silence of the roome 
 
 Will represent a tombe. 
 
PART FOLRTII. 345 
 
 And while my children's teares, 
 My wivc's vaine hopes, but certaine feares. 
 And councells of divines advance 
 Death in each dolefull circumstance : 
 I shall even a sad mourner be 
 
 At my owne obsequie. 
 
 For by examples I 
 Must know that others' sorrowes dye 
 Soone as our selves, and none survive 
 To keepe our memories alive. 
 Even our fals tombes, as loath to say 
 We once had life, decay. 
 
346 
 
 PART FOURTH. 
 
 LAUDATE DOMIXUM DE C(ELIS. 
 
 DAYID. 
 
 You spirits ! who have throwne away 
 That enveous weight of clay, 
 
 Which your coelestiall flight denyed : 
 
 Who by your glorious troopes supply 
 The winged hierarchie, 
 
 So broken in theangells' pride! 
 
 O you ! whom your Creator's sight 
 
 Inebriates with delight ! 
 Sing forth the triumphs of his name. 
 All you enamor'd soules ! agree 
 
TAltT FOURTH. 347 
 
 a 7 ■ - — ■ - ■ : ij j 
 
 In a loud symphonic, 
 To gWe expression to your flame. 
 
 To him, his ownc great workes relate, 
 
 Who daign'd to elevate 
 You 'bovc the frailtie of your birth : 
 "Where you stand safe from that rude warrc, 
 
 With which we troubled are 
 By the rebellion of our earth. 
 
 While a corrupted ay re beneath 
 
 Here in this world we breath, 
 Each houre some passion us assailcs : 
 Now lust casts wild-tire in the blood, 
 
 Or, that it may seeme good. 
 It selfe in wit or beauty vailcs. 
 
 Then envie circles us with hate, 
 
 And layes a siege so streight, 
 No heavenly succour enters in : 
 But, if revenge admittance finde, 
 
 For ever hath the mind 
 Made forfeit of itselfe to sinne. 
 
348 PART FOURTH. 
 
 Assaulted thus, how dare we raise 
 Our mindes to thinke his praise, 
 
 Who is asternall and immens ? 
 
 How dare we force our feeble wit 
 To speak him infinite., 
 
 So farre above the search of sence ? 
 
 O you ! who are immaculate, 
 
 His name may celebrate 
 In your soules' bright expansion : 
 You whom your vertues did unite 
 
 To his perpetual light, 
 That even with him, you now shine one. 
 
 While we, who V earth contract our hearts. 
 
 And only studie arts 
 To shorten the sad length of time : 
 In place of joyes bring humble feares : 
 
 For hymnes, repentant teares : 
 And a new sigh for every crime. 
 
 
PART FOURTH. 349 
 
 QUI QUASI FLOS EGREDITUR. 
 
 TO THE RIGHT HONORABLE, THE 
 
 LADY CAT. T. 
 
 Faire madam ! You 
 May see what's man in yond' bright rose 
 Though it the wealth of Nature owes, 
 
 It is opprest, and bends with dew. 
 
 Which showes, though fate 
 May promise still to warme our lippes, 
 
350 PART FOURTH. 
 
 And keepe our eyes from an ecclips, 
 It will our pride with teares abate. 
 
 Poore silly fiowre ! 
 Though in thy beauty thou presume, 
 And breath which doth the spring perfume ; 
 
 Thou may'st be cropt this very houre. 
 
 And though it may 
 Then thy good fortune be, to rest 
 O'th pillow of some ladie's brest ; 
 
 Thou'lt wither, and be throwne away. 
 
 For 'tis thy doome 
 However, that there shall appeare 
 No memory that thou grew'st heere, 
 
 Ere the tempestuous winter come. 
 
 But flesh is loath 
 By meditation to fore see 
 How loath'd a nothing it must be : 
 
 Proud in the triumphes of its growth. 
 
PART FOURTH. 351 
 
 And tamely can 
 Behold this mighty world decay , 
 And weareby th' age of time away : 
 
 Yet not discourse the fall of man. 
 
 But, madam, these 
 Are thoughts to cure sicke humane pride ; 
 And med'eines are in vaine applyed 
 
 To bodies far 'bovc all disease. 
 
 For you so live 
 As th' angels, in one perfect state ; 
 Safe from the ruines of our fate, 
 
 By virtue's great preservative. 
 
 And though we see 
 Beautie enough to warme each heart $ 
 Yet you, by a chaste chimicke art 5 
 
 Calcine fraile love to pietie. 
 
352 PART FOURTH. 
 
 QUID GLORIARIS IN MALICIA t 
 
 DAVID. 
 
 bwELL no more, proud man, so high ! 
 For enthron'd where ere you sit, 
 Rais'd by fortune, sinne, and wit, 
 In a vault thou dust must lye. 
 He, who's lifted up by vice, 
 Hath aneighb'ring precipice 
 Dazeliug his distorted eye* 
 
 Shallow is that unsafe sea 
 Over which you spread your saile : 
 And the barke you trust to, fraile 
 As the winds it must obey. 
 
PART FOURTH. 353 
 
 Mischiefe, while it prospers, brings : 
 Favour from the smile of kings, 
 Vselcss soone, is throwne away. 
 
 Profit, though sinne it extort, 
 Princes, even accounted good, 
 Courting greatnessc, ncre withstood, 
 Since it empire doth support : 
 But, when death makes them repent, 
 They condemne the instrument, 
 And arc thought religious for't. 
 
 Pitch'd downe from that height you beare, 
 How distracted will you lye ; 
 When your flattering clients flye 
 As your fate infectious were ! 
 When, of all th' obsequious throng 
 That mov'd by your eye and tongue, 
 None shall in the storme appcare ? 
 
 When that abject insolence 
 (Which submits to the more great, 
 And disdaines the weaker state, 
 As misfortune were offence) 
 
 A a 
 
354 PART FOURTtt. 
 
 Shall at court be judged a crime 
 Though in practise, and the time 
 Purchase wit at your expence. 
 
 Each small tempest shakes the proud ; 
 Whose large branches rainely sprout 
 >Bove the measure of the roote : 
 But let stormes speake nere so loud 9 
 And th' astonisht day benight; 
 Yet the just shines in a light 
 Faire as noone without a cloud. 
 
PART FOURTH. 355 
 
 DELS DEUS MEUS. 
 
 DAVID. 
 
 Where is that foole philosophic, 
 That beldam reason, and that beast dull sencc ; 
 
 Great God ! when I consider thee 3 
 Omnipotent, aeternal, and imens ? 
 
 Vnmov'd thou didst behold the pride 
 Of th' angels, when they to defection fell ; 
 
 And, without passion, didst provide, 
 To punish treason, rackes and death in hell. 
 
 Thy word created this great all, 
 I'th' lower part whereof we wage such warres 
 A a 2 
 
356 FART FOURTH. 
 
 The upper bright and sphaericall 
 By purer bodies tenanted, the starres. 
 
 And though sixe days it thee did please 
 To build this frame ; the seventh for rest t' assigne : 
 
 Yet was it not thy paine or ease, 
 But to teach man the quantities of time. 
 
 This world so mighty and so faire, 
 So 'bove the reach of all dimension. 
 
 If to thee God we should compare, 
 Is not the slenderest atome to the Sun, 
 
 What then am I, poore nothing, man! 
 That elevate my voyce and speake of thee? 
 
 Since no imagination can 
 Distinguish part of thy immensitie ? 
 
 What am I who dare call thee God ! 
 And raise my fancie to discourse thy power : 
 
 To whom dust is the period ; 
 Who am not sure to farme this very houre? 
 
 For how know I the latest sand 
 In my fraile glasse of life, doth not now fall I 
 
 And, while I thus astonisht stand, 
 I but prepare for my owne funerall ? 
 
 Death doth with man no order keepe ; 
 
PART FOURTH. 357 
 
 It reckons not by the cxpence of ycares ; 
 
 But makes the queene and beggar wcepe, 
 And nere distinguishes betwecne their teares. 
 
 He, who the victory doth gaine, 
 Falls, as he him pursues, who from him flyes, 
 
 And is by too good fortune slainc. 
 The lover in his amorous courtship dyes : 79 
 
 The states-man suddenly expires, 
 While he for others ruinc doth prepare : 
 
 And the gay lady, while sh' admires 
 Her pride, and curies in wanton nets her haire. 
 
 No state of man is fortified 
 'Gainst the assault of th' universall doome : 
 
 But who th' Almighty feare, deride 
 Pale Death, and meet with triumph in the tombe. 
 
 "< 9 The lover in his amorous courlship dyes. 
 These lines remind us of some figures in Holbein's groupes 
 of the Danee of Death. Plates from this pauiting might have 
 been ^een by Habington. 
 
558 PART FOURTH. 
 
 QUONIAM EGO IN FLAGELLA PARATUS SUM. 
 
 DAVID. 
 
 -T ix me on some bleake precipice. 
 Where I ten thousand yeares may stand : 
 
 Made now a statue of ice, 80 
 Then by the summer scorcht and tan'd: 
 
 so Made now a statue of ice. 
 
 Habington seems to have had in his mind the legendary 
 hell of the monks: which supposed a transition from the ex- 
 treme of heat to that of cold. Dr. Newton thinks the idea 
 founded on a passage in Job, as it stands in the Latin vulgate ; 
 24. 19. Ad nimium calorem transeat ab aquis nivium : " let him 
 
PART FOURTH. 
 
 Place me alone in some fraile boate 
 'Mid th' horrours of an angry sea : 
 
 u pass to excessive heat from waters of snow." But the des- 
 cription of Milton, 
 
 they feel, by turns, the bitter change 
 
 Of fierce extremes ; extremes by change more fierce ; 
 
 From beds of raging fire, to starve in ice 
 
 Their soft etherial warmth, 
 
 May have been suggested by Shakspeare : Measure for Measure, 
 A. 3, S. 1. 
 
 the delighted spirit 
 
 To bathe in fiery floods, or to reside 
 
 In thrilling regions of thick-ribbed ice : 
 
 and again, in Othello, A. 5, Sc. 2. 
 
 Blow me about in winds ; 
 Wash me in steep-down gulphs of liquid fire. 
 
 Mr. Todd, the erudite annotator of Milton, quotes the 
 same circumstance in Dante Inf. C. 3. V. 86. 
 I' vegno, per menarviall 'altra riva 
 Nelle tenebre eterne, in caldo e'n gielo. 
 
 It occurs also in " songs and sonnets of Lord Surrey and 
 others :" 
 
 Tormented all with fire ; 
 
 and boyle in lead again ; 
 Then cast in frozen pits 
 To freeze : 
 
360 PART FOURTH. 
 
 Where I, while time shall move, may floate, 
 Despairing either land or day : 
 
 Or under earth my youth confine 
 To th' night and silence of a cell : 
 
 Where scorpions may my limbes entwine, 
 O God ! So thou forgive me Hell. 
 
 iEternitie ! when I thinke thee, 
 (Which never any end must have, 
 
 Nor knew'st begining) and fore-see 
 Hell is design'd for sinne a grave ; 
 
 My frighted flesh trembles to dust, 
 My blood ebbes fearefully away : 
 Both guilty, that they did to lust 
 And vanity, my youth betray. 
 
 My eyes, which from each beautious sight 
 Drew, spiders-like, blacke venome in ; 
 
 And in Heywood's " Hierarchic of Angels :" 
 And sufferd, as they sinn'd, in wrath, inpp' 
 Of frosts > of fires. 
 
PART FOURTH. 361 
 
 Close, like the marigold at night, 
 Opprest with dew to bath my sin. 
 i 
 
 My cares shut up that easie dore, 
 Which did proud fallacies admit : 
 
 And vow to hear no follies more ; 
 Deafc to the charmes of sin and wit , 
 
 My hands (which when they toucht some fain 
 Imagined such an excellence, 
 
 As th* ermine's skin ungentle were) 
 Contract themselves, and loose all sence. 
 
 But you bold sinner ! still pursue 
 Your valiant wickedncsse, and brave 
 
 Th Almighty iustice : hee'le subdue, 
 And make you cowards in the grave. 
 
 Then, when he as your judge appeares, 
 In vain you'le tremble and lament, 
 
 And hope to soften him with teares, 
 To no advantage penitent. 
 
j62 part fourth. 
 
 Theu will you scorne those treasures, which 
 So fiercely now you doate upon : 
 
 Then curse those pleasures did bewitch 
 You to this sad illusion. 
 
 The neigh'ring mountaines, which you shall 
 Wooe, to oppresse you with their weight, 
 
 Disdainefull will deny to fall, 
 By a sad death to ease your fate. 
 
 In vaine some midnight storme at sea 
 To swallow you, you will desire : 
 
 In vaine upon the wheele youle pray 
 Broken with torments to expire. 
 
 Death, at the sight of which you start, 
 In a mad fury then you'le court : 
 
 Yet hate th' expressions of your heart. 
 Which onely shall be sigh'd for sport. 
 
 No sorrow then sh all enter in 
 With pitty the great judges eares : 
 
 This moment's ours. Once dead, his sin 
 Man cannot expiate with teares. 
 
PART FOURTH. 363 
 
 MILITIA EST VITA IIOMINIS. 
 
 TO SIR HEN. PER. 
 
 Sir, 
 
 Were it your appetite of glory, (which 
 In noblest times did bravest soules bewitch 
 To fall in love with danger), that now drawes 
 You to the fate of warre ; it claimes applause : 
 And every worthy hand would plucke a bough 
 From the best spreading bay, to shade your brow, 
 
364 PART FOURTH. 
 
 Since you, unforc'd, part from your ladie's bed 
 Warme with the purest love 5 to lay your head 
 Perhaps on some rude turfe, and sadly feele 
 The night's eold dampes, wrapt in a sheete of 
 
 Steele. 
 You leave your well grown woods, and meadows, 
 
 which 
 Our Severnedoth with fruitfull streames enrich ; 
 Your woods, where we see such large heards of 
 
 deere ; 
 Your meades,whereon such goodly flockes appeare ; 
 You leave your castle, safe both for defence ? 
 And sweetly wanton with magnificence : 
 With all the cost and. cunning beautified 
 That addes to state, where nothing wants but pride. 
 These charmes might hare bin pow'rfull to haye 
 
 staid 
 Great mindes resolv'd for action, and betraid 
 You to a glorious ease : since to the warre 
 Men by desire of prey invited are, 
 "Whome either shine or want makes desperate, 
 Or else disdaine of their own narrow fate. 
 But you, nor hope of fame or a release 
 Of the most sober goverment in peace. 
 
PART FOURTH. 365 
 
 Did to the hazard of the armic bring : 
 
 Oncly a pure devotion to the king, 
 
 In whose just cause whoever fights, must be 
 
 Triumphant : since even death is victory. 
 
 And what is life, that we to wither it 
 
 To a weeke wrinckled age, should torture wit 
 
 To find out Nature's secretes : what doth length 
 
 Of time deserve, if we want heate and strength ? 
 
 When a brave quarrell doth to armes provoke, 
 
 Why should we fearc to venter this thin smoke, 
 
 This em p tie shadow, life ? this, which the wise 
 
 As the foole's idoll, soberly dispise ? 
 
 Why should we not throw willingly away 
 
 A game we cannot save, now that we may 
 
 Gain honour by the gift? since, haply, when 
 
 We onely shall be statue of men, 
 
 And our owne monuments, peace will deny 
 
 Our wretched age so brave a cause to dye. 
 
 But these are thoughts: And action tisdoth 
 
 give 
 A soule to courage, and make virtue live : 
 Which doth not dwell upon the valiant tongue 
 Of bold philosophie ; but in the strong 
 
366 PART FOURTH. 
 
 Vndaunted spirit, which encounters those 
 Sad dangers, we to fancie scarce propose. 
 Yet 'tis the true and highest fortitude 
 To keepe our inward enemies subdued : 
 Not to permit our passions over sway 
 Our actions, nor our wanton flesh betray 
 The souls' chaste empire : for however we 
 To th' outward shew may gaine a victory 
 And proudly triumph, if to conquour sinne 
 We combate not, we are at warre within, 
 
TART FOURTH. 307 
 
 VIAS TUAS DOMINE DEMONSTRA MIHI. 
 
 ▼ there have I wandered ? In what way 
 
 Horrid as night, 
 
 Increast by storm, did I delight? 
 Though my sad soule did often say 
 T'was death and madnesse so to stray. 
 
 On that false ground I joy'd to tread 
 
 Which seem'd most faire, 
 
 Though every path had a new snare, 
 And every turning still did lead. 
 To the darke region of the dead. 
 
368 PART FOURTH. 
 
 But with thesurfet of delight 
 
 I am so tyred 5 
 
 That now I loath what I admired ; 
 And my distasted appetite 
 So 'bliors the meate, it hates the sight* 
 
 For should we naked sinne descry, 
 
 Not beautified 
 
 By th ? ayde of wantonnesse and pride^. 
 Like somemishapen birth 'twould ]je 
 A torment to th' affrighted eye. 
 
 But cloath'd in beauty and respect. 
 
 Even ore the wise 
 
 How powerful! doth it tyrannize : 
 ^Vhose monstrous form should they detract 
 They famine sooner would afreet. 
 
 And since those shadowes which opresse 
 
 My sight begin 
 
 To clear, and show the shape of sialic^ 
 A scorpion sooner be my guest. 
 And warme his venome in my brest. 
 
PART FOURTH. 
 
 360 
 
 May I, before I grow so vile 
 
 By sinnc agen, 
 
 He throwne oiF as a scorne to men ! 
 May th' angry world decree, V exsile 
 Me to some yet unpeopled isle. 
 
 Where, while I straggle, and in vainc 
 
 Labour to findc 
 
 Some creature that shall have a mindo, 
 What justice have I to complaine, 
 If I thy inward grace rctaine ? 
 
 My God, if thou shalt not exclude 
 
 Thy comfort thence, 
 
 What place can seeme to troubled seuce 
 So melancholly, darke, and rude, 
 To be esteem'd a solitude? 
 
 Cast me upon some naked shore, 
 
 Where I may tracke 
 
 Onely the print of some sad wracke ; 
 If thou be there, though the seas roarc, 
 I shall no gentler calme implore* 
 Bb 
 
370 PART FOURTH. 
 
 Should the Cynimerians, whom no ray- 
 Doth ere enlight, 
 
 But gaine thy grace, th' hare lost their night: 
 Not sinners at high noone, but they 
 'Mong their blind cloudes have found the day. 
 
PART FOURTH. 371 
 
 ET EXJLLTAVIT HUfolLEJ. 
 
 How checrefully th' unpartiall Sunne 
 
 Gilds with his beames 
 
 The narrow streames 
 O'th' brooke, which silently doth runne 
 
 Without a name ? 
 
 And yet disdaines to lend his flames 
 To the wide channell of the Thames ? 
 
 The largest mountaines barren lye, 81 
 And lightning feare^ 
 Though they appeare 
 
 si Hor. od. x. b. 2. 
 
 the lightening flies. 
 And mountain summits feel the flash. 
 Bb2 
 
372 PART FOURTH. 
 
 To bid defiance to the skie ; 
 
 Which in onehoure 
 
 W'have seene the opening earth devoure, 
 When in their height they proudest were* 
 
 But th ? humble man heaves up his head 
 
 Like some rich vale, 
 
 Whose fruites nere faile, 
 With flowres, with come, and Tines ore-spread: 
 
 Nor doth complaine 
 
 Ore-flowed by an ill season'd raine 3 
 Or batter'd by a storme of haile. 
 
 Like a tall barke treasure fraught. 
 
 He the seas cleere 
 
 Doth quiet steere : 
 But when they are V a tempest wrought : 
 
 More gallantly 
 
 He spreads his saile, and doth more higp* 
 By swelling of the waves, appeare. 
 
 For the Almighty joyes to force 
 The glorious tide 
 Of humane pride 
 
rART FOURTH. 373 
 
 To th' lowest ebbc ; lhatore his course 
 
 (Which rudely bore 
 
 Downe what oppos'd it heretofore) 
 His feeblest encmie may stride, 
 
 But from his ill-thatcht roofe he bring* 
 
 The cottager, 82 
 
 And doth prcferrc 
 Him to th' adored state of kings : 
 
 He bids that hand, 
 
 Which labour hath made rough and tan'd 
 The all commanding scepter beare. 
 
 Let then the mighty cease to boast 
 
 Their boundlesse sway : 
 
 Since in their sea 
 Few sayle, but by some storme are lost. 
 
 Let them themselves 
 
 Beware for they are their owne shelves : 
 Man still himselfe hath cast away. 
 
 82 Samuel, book 1. c. 2. 
 
 " He lifteth up the beggar from the dunghill to set him 
 among princes." 
 
374 PART FOURTH. 
 
 DOMINUS DOMINANTIUM. 
 
 bvpREAME Divinitie ! Who yet 
 
 Could eyer finde 
 By the bold scrutinie of wit, 
 
 The treasurie where thou lock'st up the wind : 
 
 What majesty of princes can 
 
 A tempest awe ; 
 When the distracted Ocean 
 
 Swells to sedition, and obeys no law ? 
 
PART FOURTH. 375 
 
 How wretched doth the tyrant stand 
 
 Without a boast? 
 When his rich fleete, even touching land, 
 
 He by some storme in his owne port sees lost ? 
 
 Vaine pompe of life ! what narrow bound 
 
 Ambition 
 Is circled with ? How false a ground 
 
 Hath humane pride, to build its triumphs on ? 
 
 And Nature ! how dost thou delude 
 
 Our search, to know 
 When the same windes, which here intrude, 
 
 On us with frosts and onely winter blow, 
 
 Breath temprate on th' adjoyning earth, 
 
 And gently bring 
 To the glad field a fruitfull birth, 
 
 With all the treasures of a wanton spring. 
 
 How diversly death doth assaile ; 
 
 How sporting kill ! 
 While one is scorcht up in the vale, 
 
 The other is congeal'd o'th' neighboring hill. 
 
376 PART FOURTH. 
 
 While he with heates doth dying glow, 
 
 Above he sees 
 The other, hedg'd in with his snow, 
 
 And envies him his ice 5 although he freeze. 
 
 Proud folly of pretending art. 
 
 Be ever dumbe, 
 And humble thy aspiring heart, 
 When thou findest glorious reason overcome. 
 
 And you astrologers, whose eye 
 
 Survays the starres, 
 And offer thence to prophesie 
 
 Successe in peace, and the event of warrcs. 
 
 Throw downe your eyes upon that dust 
 
 You proudly tread ! 
 And know to that resolve you must ! 
 
 That is the scheme where all their fate may read,, 
 
PART FOURTH. 377 
 
 COGITABO PRO PECCATO MEO. 
 
 In what darkc silent grove, 
 
 Profan'd by no unholy lore, 
 
 Where witty melancholy ncre 
 
 Did carve the trees or wound the ayrc, 
 
 Shall I religious leisure winne, 
 
 To weepe away my sinne ? 
 
 How fondly have I spent 
 My youthe's unvalued treasure, lent 
 To traffique for coelestiall joyes ; 
 My unripe ycares, pursuing toyes, 
 Iudging things best that were most gay. 
 Fled unobserv'd away. 
 
378 PART FOURTH. 
 
 Growne elder, I admired 
 
 Our poets, as from Hearen inspired ; 
 
 What obeliskes decreed I fit 
 
 For Spencer's art, and Sydnye's wit ! 
 
 But, waxing sober, soone I found 
 
 Fame but an idle sound. 
 
 Then I my blood obey'd, 
 And each bright face an idoll made: 
 Verse, in an humble sacrifice, 
 I offer'd to my mistresse' eyes : 
 But I no sooner grace did win, 
 But met the devill within. 
 
 But, growne more polliticke, 
 1 tooke account of each state tricke : 
 Observ'd each motion ; judg'd him wise, 
 Who had a conscience fit to rise : 
 Whom soone I found but forme and rule, 
 And the more serious foole. 
 
 But now, my soule, prepare 
 
 To ponder what and where we are ; 
 
 
fART FOURTH. 379 
 
 How fraile is life, how vaine a breath 
 Opinion, how uncertaine death : 
 How onely a poore stone shall beare 
 Witncssc, that once we were. 
 
 How a shrill trumpet shall 
 Vs to the barre as traytors call : 
 Then shall we see, too late, that pride 
 Hath hope with flattery bely'd ; 
 And that the mighty in command 
 Pale cowards there must stand. 
 
380 PART FOURTH. 
 
 
 REC0GITAB0 TIBI OMNES ANNOS MIOS. 
 
 ISTAY. 
 
 J. ime ! where didst thou those yeares inter 
 
 Which I have seene decease ? 
 My soule's at war ; and truth bids her 
 Finde out their hidden sepulcher. 
 
 To give her troubles peace. 
 
 Pregnant with flowers, doth not the spring 
 
 Like a late bride appeare ? 
 Whose fether'd musicke onely bring 
 Caresses, and no requiem sing 
 
 On the departed yeare ? 
 
PART FOURTH. 
 
 381 
 
 The earth, like some rich wanton hcire, 
 
 Whose parents coftin'd lye, 
 Forgets it once lookt pale and bare, 
 And doth for vanities prepare, 
 
 As the spring nere should dye* 
 
 The present hourc, flattered by all, 
 
 Reflects not on the last; 
 But I, like a sad factor, shall 
 T' account my life each moment call, 
 
 And onely weepe the past. 
 
 My mcm'ry trackes each severall way, 
 Since reason did begin 
 
 Over my actions her first sway : 
 
 And teacheth me, that each new day- 
 Did onely vary sin. 
 
 Poore banckrout conscience ! 8J where are those 
 Rich houres, but farm'd to thee ? 
 
 S3 Poor banckrout conscience. 
 An expression borrowed, perhaps, from Shakspeare : Romee 
 and Juliet: A. 3. S. 2. 
 
 Oh ! break iny heart ! poor bankrupt ! break at once. 
 
382 PART FOURTH. 
 
 How carelessely I some did lose, 
 And other to my lust dispose. 
 As no rent day should be ? 
 
 I have infected with impure 
 
 Disorders my past yeares ; 
 But ile to penitence inure 
 Those that succeed. There is no cure fl 
 
 Nor antidote, but teares. 
 
PART FOURTH. 383 
 
 CUPIO DISSOLVI. 
 
 P1ULE. 
 
 I he soule, which doth with God unite, 
 Those gayities how doth she slight 
 
 Which ore opinion sway! 
 Like sacred virgin wax, 84 which shines 
 On altars or on martyrs' shrines, 
 
 How doth she burne away ! 
 
 84 Like sacred virgin wax. 
 Allusive to the massive tapers placed before the altars and 
 
384 PART FOURTH. 
 
 How violent are her throwes, till she 
 From enyious earth delivered be, 
 Which doth her flight restraine ? 
 
 shrines in Roman Catholic churches. Habington, like Pope, 
 is fond of alluding to the pomps of his religion. When he 
 speaks, in a former poem, of the Almighty repairing to a 
 hermitage, and keeping aloof from " the lofty, gilded roof, 
 stain'd with some pagan fiction," he evidently points, not at a 
 church, but at a splendid mansion ; of which the ceilings,, 
 particularly in Habington's time, were frequently painted with 
 stories from the pagan mythology. The gilded or painted 
 roof, sanctified by religion, must have been associated with 
 his earliest prepossessions, and devotional feelings. In the 
 same poem, the image of the Almighty " sitting on the heads 
 of the Cherubins" was, probably, copied from a painting on 
 the walls of some Roman chapel ; when, in a former ode, 
 " the marriage angel sees th' altar, in th' odour of their vow, 
 breathe precious breath," the smoke of incense was certainly 
 in his mind : his frequent allusions to the angelical hierarchy 
 spring from the same impressions of pictured emblems ; and 
 his fancy seems, always, to rest with pleasure on tapers, 
 altars, and shrines. The ceremonials of the Romish church 
 are, in fact, naturally attractive to a poetical imagination : 
 and even Milton, the champion of a naked simplicity of 
 worship, forgets the religionist in the poet : and as Warton 
 well observes, is insensibly drawn aside to " the studious cloys- 
 ters pale :" " the high embotced roof'" " the storied windows 
 richly dig/it ;" the u pealing organ'" and the u full-voiced quire* r 
 
PART FOURTH. 385 
 
 How doth she doatc on whips and rackes, 
 On fires, and the so dreaded axe, 
 And every murd'ring paine ! 
 
 How soone she leaves the pride of wealth, 
 The flatteries of youth and health, 
 
 And fame's more precious breath ; 
 And every gaudy circumstance, 
 That doth the pompe of life advance, 
 
 At the approach of death ? 
 
 The cunning of astrologers 
 Observes each motion of the starres, 
 
 Placing all knowledge there : 
 And lovers in their mistresse' eyes 
 Contract those wonders of the skies, 
 
 And seekc no higher sphere. 
 
 The wandring pilot sweatcs to find 
 The causes that produce the wind, 
 
 Still gazing on the pole ; 
 The politician scornes all art, 
 But what doth pride and power impart, 
 
 And swells the ambitious soule. 
 c c 
 
386 PART FOURTH. 
 
 But he, whome heavenly fire doth warme, 
 And 'gainst these powerfull follies arme, 
 
 Doth soberly disdaine 
 All these fond humane misteries 5 
 As the deceitfull and unwise 
 
 Distempers of our braine. 
 
 He as a burden beares his clay ? 
 Yet vainely throwesit not away 
 
 On every idle cause : 
 But, with the same untroubled eye. 
 Can or resolve to live or dye, 
 
 Regardlesse of th' applause. 
 
 My God ! If 'tis thy great decree 
 That this must the last moment be 
 
 Wherein I breath this ayre ; 
 My heart obeyes, joy'd to retreate 
 From the false favours of the great, 
 
 And treachery of thefaire. 
 
 When thou shalt please this soule V enthrowne 
 Above impure corruption, 
 
 What should I grieve or feare, 
 
PART FOURTH. 387 
 
 To think this breathlesse body must 
 Become a loathsome heape of dust, 
 And nere again appcare ? 
 
 For in the fire when ore is tryed, 
 And by that torment purified, 
 
 Doe Ave deplore the losse? 
 And, when thou shalt my soule refine. 
 That it thereby may purer shine, 
 
 Shall I grieve for the drosse? 
 
Citulat 3lito# ♦ 
 
 Part I.— The Mistress. 
 
 1» x\. Sacrifice - - • 49 
 
 2. To Casta ra praying - - - 52 
 
 3. To roses in the bosome of Castara - 53 
 
 4. To Castara, a vow - - - 57 
 
 5. To Castara, of his being in love - 59 
 
 6. To my honoured Friend, Mr. E. P. - 62 
 
 7. To Castara - - - -65 
 
 8. To Castara, softly singing to herselfe - 6S 
 
 9. To a Wanton - - - -73 
 
 10. To the honourable my much honoured 
 
 friend R. B. Esquire - - 7G 
 
 11. To Castara, iuquiring why I loved her - 31 
 
TITULAR INDKJl. 
 
 12. To Castara, looking upon him - 85 
 
 13. To the right honourable the Countesse of 
 
 Ar .... 87 
 
 14. Upon Castara's frowne or smile - 89 
 
 15. In Castara, all fortunes - - 9V 
 
 16. Upon thought Castara may die - 92 
 
 17. Time to the moments, on sight of Castara 94 
 
 18. To a friend, inquiring her name, whom 
 
 he loved - - - - 95 
 
 19. A dialogue between Hope and Feare - 97 
 
 20. To Cupid, upon a dimple in Castara's 
 
 cheeke - # - - 99 
 SI. Upon Cupid's death and burial! in Cas- 
 tara's cheeke - 101 
 
 22. To Fame - - - - 103 
 
 23. A dialogue betweene Araphill and Castara 104 
 
 24. To Castara, intending a journey into the 
 
 countrey - - - 108 
 
 25. Upon Castara's departure - - 109 
 
 26. To Castara, upon a trembling kisse at 
 
 departure - - - 110 
 
 27. On Castara, looking backe at her de- 
 
 parting - - - - 112 
 
 28. Upon Castara's absence - - 114 
 
TITULAR 1NDLX. 
 
 29. To Castara, complaining her absence in 
 
 the country - - - 116 
 
 SO. To Thames - - - 117 
 
 31. To the right honourable the Earle of 
 
 Shrewes - - - - 118 
 
 32. To Cupid, wishing a speedy passage to 
 
 Castara - - - - 120 
 
 33. To Castara, of Loye - - 121 
 
 34. To the Spring, upon the uncertainty of 
 
 Castara's abode - 122 
 
 35. To Reason, upon Castara's absence - 123 
 
 36. An answere to Castara's question - 124 
 
 37. To Castara upon the disguising his af- 
 
 fection - 125 
 
 38. To the honourable my honoured kins- 
 
 man Mr. G. T. - - 126 
 
 39. Eccho to Narcissus, in praise of Castara's 
 
 discreete love - 128 
 
 40. To Castara being debarred her presence 125 
 
 41. To Seymors, the house in which Castara 
 
 lived - - - - 131 
 
 42. To the dew, in hope to see Castara walk- 
 
 ing - - - - 132 
 
 43. To Castara .... 134 
 
TITULAR ItfDEX. 
 
 44. To Castara venturing to walke too farre 
 
 in the neighbouring wood - - 135 
 
 45. Upon Castara's departure - - 136 
 
 46. A dialogue betweene Night and Araphil 138 
 
 47. To the right honourable the Lady E. P. 141 
 
 48. To Castara, departing upon the approach 
 
 of Night - - - -145 
 
 49. An apparition - - - - 146 
 
 50. To the honourable Mr. Wm. E. - 147 
 
 51. To Castara, vanity of avarice - - 152 
 
 52. To my honoured friend and kinsman R. 
 
 St. Esquire - - - 154 
 
 53. To the World ; the perfection of Love - 158 
 
 54. To the Winter - - - - 161 
 
 55. Upon a visit to Castara in the Night - 162 
 
 56. To Castara, of the Chastity of his Love - 163 
 
 57. The description of Castara - - 166 
 
 Part 2.— The Wife. 
 
 1. To Castara, now possest of her in mar- 
 
 riage - - - - 173 
 
 2. To Castara, upon the mutual love of their 
 
 majesties - 176 
 
 3. To Zephirus - - - .178 
 
TlTn.AR. INDIA'. 
 
 4. To Castara, in a trance - - 1 80 
 
 5. To Death, Castara being sicke - - 1S1 
 
 6. To Castara, inviting licr to sleep - IS i 
 
 7. Upon Castara's recovery - - 185 
 
 8. To a friend, inviting him to a meeting up- 
 
 on promise - - - 186 
 
 9. To Castara, where true happinesse abides 191 
 
 10. To Castara - - - - 102 
 
 11. To Castara, upon the death of a Lady - 194 
 
 12. To Castara, being to take a journey - 199 
 
 13. To Castara, weeping - 200 
 
 14. To Castara, upon a sigh - - 201 
 
 15. To the right honourable the Lady F. - 202 
 
 16. To Castara, against opinion - - 204 
 
 17. To Castara, upon beautie - - 205 
 
 18. To Castara, melancholly - - 206 
 
 19. A dialogue between Araphill and Castara 207 
 
 20. To the right honourable Henry Lord M. 210 
 
 21. To a tomb - - - - 214 
 
 22. To Castara, upon thought of age, and 
 
 death - - - - 215 
 
 23. To the right honourable, the Lord P. - 216 
 
 24. His muse speakes to him - - 218 
 
 25. To vain hope - - - - 219 
 
TITULAR INDEX. 
 
 26. To Castara, bow happy , though in an 
 
 obscure fortune - - - 220 
 
 27. To Castara - 222 
 
 28. On the death of the right honourable 
 
 George Earle of S. - - - 223 
 
 29. To my worthy cousin Mr. E. C. in 
 
 praise of the city life, in the long 
 vacation .... 227 
 SO. Love's aniversarie. To the Sunne - 230 
 
 31. Against them, who lay unchastitie to 
 
 the sex of women - - - 231 
 
 32. Te the right honourable and excellently 
 
 learned, William Earle of St. * 233 
 
 33. To Castara, upon an embrace - - 237 
 
 34. To the honourable G. T. - - 239 
 
 35. To Castara, the reward of innocent love - 242 
 
 36. To my noblest friend Sir I. P., knight - 244 
 
 37. To the right honourable Archibald, earl 
 
 of Ar - - . 248 
 
 38. An Elegy upon the honourable Henry 
 
 Cambell sonne to the Earl of Ar - 253 
 
 39. To Castara .... 228 
 
 40. To Castara, of what we were before our 
 
 creation - 257 
 

 
 TITULAR INDEX. 
 
 
 41. 
 
 To the moment hist past 
 
 - 258 
 
 42. 
 
 To ( 
 
 tara, of the knowledge of love 
 
 - 259 
 
 43. 
 
 To the 
 
 right honourable the Countesse 
 
 
 of C. 
 
 - 261 
 
 44. 
 
 The hai 
 
 'inofty of Love 
 
 - 264 
 
 45. 
 
 To my 
 
 honoured friend Sir Ed. P. kn 
 
 ight 
 
 46. 
 
 To Cast 
 
 aim - 
 
 - 266 
 
 47. 
 
 To Castara, of true delight 
 
 - 272 
 
 48. 
 
 To my 
 
 noblest friend i. C. Esquire 
 
 - 274 
 
 49. 
 
 To Castara, what lovers will say ? w 
 
 hen 
 
 
 she and he are dead 
 
 - 277 
 
 50. 
 
 To his 
 
 muse - 
 
 Pari III.— The Friend. 
 
 - 279 
 
 1. 
 
 Elegie 
 
 1 
 
 - 285 
 
 2. 
 
 Elegie 
 
 2 
 
 - 287 
 
 m 
 
 Elegie 
 
 3 
 
 - 290 
 
 4. 
 
 Elegie 
 
 4 
 
 - 293 
 
 4. 
 
 Elegie 
 
 5 . 
 
 - 295 
 
 6. 
 
 Elegie 
 
 6 
 
 - 298 
 
 7. 
 
 Elegie 
 
 7 
 
 - 301 
 
 8. 
 
 Eelgie 
 
 8 
 
 - 304 
 
TITULAR INDEX. 
 
 Part IV.— The Holy Man. 
 
 1. Domine, labia mea aperies - - 313 
 
 2. Versa est in luctum cythara mea ~ 316 
 
 3. Perdam sapientiam sapientum - - 319 
 
 4. Paucitatem dierum meorum nuncia mihi - 322 
 
 5. Non nobis, Domine - 325 
 
 6. Solum mihi superest sepulchrum - 328 
 
 7. Et fugit velut umbra - - - 331 
 
 8. ^Nox nocti indicat scientiam - - 335 
 
 9. v Et alta a longe cognoscit - ~ 338 
 
 10. Umrersum statum ejus yersasti in infirmi- 
 
 tate ejus - - - 341 
 
 11. Laudate dominum de coelis - - 346 
 
 12. Qui quasi flos egreditur - - 349 
 13./Qaidgloriaris in malicia ? - ' - 352 
 
 14. Deus, Deus meus - 355 
 
 15. Quoriiamego in flagella paratus sum - 358 
 
 16. Militia est vita hominis - 363 
 
 17. Vias tuas, Domine, demonstra mihi - 367 
 
 18. Et exaltavit humiles - - - 371 
 
 19. Do minus Dominantium - 374 
 
 20. Cogitabo pro peccato meo - - 377 
 
 21. Recogi&vbo tibi omnes annos meos - 380 
 
 22. Cupic dissolvi - 383 
 
SUlpJjafcctiral Sfnfccjt, 
 
 A 
 
 MPIIION ! oh thou holy shade . 264 
 
 By those chaste lamps, which yeeid a >\\o\it 
 
 light - - - -5? 
 Banish'd from you, I charg'd the nimble wind 1 L 2 ( J 
 
 Blest temple hail 5 where the chaste altar st an • i 3 1 
 
 Bright dew. v A the field adorn - 132 
 
 Bright Saint, thy pardon, if my sadder verse - 223 
 
 'Bout th' husband oke the vine - -2 
 
 Boast not the reverend Vatican, no: - 304 
 
 Check e thy forward thought .now - 97 
 
 Cupid's dead ; who would not dye - - 101 
 
 Castara, whisper in some dead man"- eaie - 1!J1 
 
 Castara. weep not, though her tombe appeare - 194 
 
 Castara. 
 
ALPHABETICAL INDEX. 
 
 Castara, see that dust, the sportive wind - 205 
 
 Castara, you too fondly court - - 207 
 
 Chaste as the Nun's first vow, as fairly bright - 295 
 
 Doe not their prophane orgies heare - 65 
 
 Dost not thou, Castara, read - - 104 
 
 Dare not too farre, Castara, for the shade - 135 
 
 Did you not see, Castara, when the king - 176 
 
 Fond love himself hopes to disguise - 05 
 
 Fly on thy swiftest wing ambitious Fame - 103 
 Faire mistresse of the earth, with garlands 
 
 crown'd - - - 122 
 
 Forsake me not so soone ; Castara, stay - 180 
 
 Forsake with me the earth, my faire - 192 
 
 Forgive my envy to the world, while I - 319 
 
 Fain, Madam, you - - -^355 
 
 Fix me oa some bleake precipice - - 358 
 
 Give me a heart, where no impure - - 266 
 Gee stop the swift-winged moments in their 
 
 flight - - - .298 
 
 How fancie mockes me 3 by th' effect I prove - 121 
 
A :.VU 1BCTIC VL INDEX. 
 
 He, who is good, is happy : let the loude - 147 
 
 Harke ! how the traitor wind doth court - 152 
 
 Hence, prophape grim man, nor dare - 181 
 
 Hero, virgin, fix thy pillars and command 279 
 
 ilow cheerfully th' un partial sun - - 371 
 
 f saw Casta ra pray, and fiom the skie - 5S 
 
 In \aino, faire sorceresse, thy eves speake 
 
 charmes ... 7. c j 
 
 If she should dye, as well suspect we may - 92 
 I am engag'd to sorrow, and my heart - 109 
 
 It shall not grieve me, friend, though what 
 
 1 write .. - -154 
 
 I heard a sigh, and something in my eare - 201 
 
 I like the greene plush, which your meadows 
 
 weare - - 227 
 
 If your example be obey'd - -248 
 
 1 hate the countrey's dirt and manners, yet - 274 
 I wonder, when w' are dead, what men will 
 
 say - , . 277 
 
 In what darke silent grove - - 377 
 
 Let the chaste Phoenix from the flowery East - 49 
 Learned shade of Tycho Brache. who to us - 89 
 
ALPHABETICAL INDEX. 
 
 Looke backe, Castara, from thy eye -112 
 
 Let silence close thy troubled eyes - - 138 
 
 Like the violet, which alone * - 166 
 Let not thy grones force Eccho from her ca\e - 239 
 
 Let me contemplate thee, faire soule, and 
 
 though - - -290 
 
 Love, I no orgies sing - - - 316 
 
 My Muse* great lord, when last you heard her 
 
 sing - - ~ 118 
 
 More welcome my Castara than was light - 146 
 May you drinke beare ; or that adulterate wine 186 
 My thoughts are not so rugged, nor doth earth 210 
 My name, deare friend, ey'n thy expiring breath 293 
 My soule, when thou and I 341 
 
 Not still i' th ? shine of kings ; thou dost retire 62 
 
 Nimble boy in thy warme flight - - 99 
 
 Nor monument of me remaine - - 313 
 
 Noe marble statue, nor high - - 325 
 
 Oh whither dost thou fly ? cannot my tow - 258 
 
 Pronounce rae guilty of a blacker crime - 125 
 

 68 
 
 tree 
 Sleepe my ( i 
 
 d to life ; anthrifty Death' - I 
 
 Should t\ 
 
 !l no more, m 3 so high - - 3b2 
 
 Suprcame Divinitie ! who yet - - .. 
 
 isfix me with that flaming dart - 85 
 
 Th' Arabian wind, w ; iose breathing gently blows 110 
 'Tis madnesse to give physicke to the dead - 114 
 The lesser people of the aire conspire - 116 
 
 Thanks, Cupid, but the coach of Venus mores 120 
 'Tis I Casrara, who, when thou wert gone - 124 
 Thrice hath the pale-faced empress of the night 126 
 'Twas night; when Phoebe, guided by thy ray es 162 
 This day is ours; the marriage angel now - 173 
 Tyrant o're Tyrants, thou, Mho onely dost - 214 
 The breath of Time shall blast the flowery 
 
 spring - - - 215 
 
 The reverend man, by magi eke of his prayer - 516 
 Thy rows are heard, and thy Castara's name - 218 
 
ALPHABETICAL INDEX. 
 
 Thou dreame of madmen, ever changing gale 219 
 Thou art return'd, greate light, to that blest 
 
 houre ... 230 
 
 They meet but with unwholesome springs - 231 
 The laurel doth your reverenc temples wreath 233 
 Though my deare Talbot's fate exact a sad - 244 
 ? Tis false arathmaticke to say thy breath - 253 
 'Twere malice to thy fame to weep alone - 285 
 
 Talbot is dead ; like lightening, which no part 287 
 There is no peace in sinne : eternall war - 301 
 
 Tell me, oh greate all-knowing God - 322 
 
 That shadowe your faire body made - 331 
 
 To the cold humble hermitage - - 338 
 
 Time, where didst thou those years inter - 380 
 The soule, which doth with God unite - 383 
 
 Vowes are vaine : no suppliant breath - 136 
 
 Where am I ? not in heaven ; for oh ! I feele 59 
 
 While you dare trust the loudest tongue of fame 76 
 Why doth the stubborne iron prove - - 81 
 
 Wing'd with delight, yet such as still doth 
 
 beare - - - 87 
 
 Why haste you hence, Castara, can the earth - 108 
 
ALPHABKTICAL INDEX. 
 
 With your calme precepts goo, and lay a 
 
 storme ... 123 
 
 What shouldo we feare, Castara ? ihc cooleaire I 45 
 Why dost thou lookc so pale, decrepit man ? - 161 
 
 Why would you blush, Castara, When the 
 
 name ... 163 
 
 Whose whispers, soft as those which lovers 
 
 breathe - - - 178 
 
 What's death, more then departure : the dead 
 
 £oe - - - 139 
 
 Why should we build, Castara, in the aire : - 204 
 Where but that sigh a penitentiall breath - 206 
 Were we, by fate, throwne down below our 
 
 feare - - - 220 
 
 What can the freedom of our love enthrall - 222 
 We saw, and woo'd each others' eyes - 242 
 
 Why should we feare to melt away in death - 228 
 WhenPeiion wondering saw that rain which fell 257 
 Where sleepes the North winde, when the 
 
 South inspires - - 259 
 
 Why doth the eare so tempt the voyce - 272 
 
 Welcome thou safe retreate - - 238 
 
 When I survey the bright - - 335 
 
 Where is that foole Philosophic 
 
alp: .t, ixd3X. 
 
 Were it your appetite of glory, which - 353 
 
 Where have I wander d in what way - 367 
 
 Ye blushing virgins happse are - - S3 
 
 Ye glorious wits ! who iinde than Parian stcne 93 
 You, younger children of your father, stay - 94 
 Your judgment's cleare ; not wrinkled by the 
 
 time - - - 14! 
 
 You, who are earth, and cannot rise - 158 
 
 You saw our loves, and prais'd themutuall flame 202 
 You'd leave i e, in which safe we are - 241 
 
 You spirits ! who have throwne away - 3 40 
 


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