Wise Nature would not let your eye Now you have what to love, you'll say, WILLIAM HABINGTON. 1605-1654. CASTARA. THE Castara of Habington's poetry was Lucia Herbert, the daughter of William Herbert, the first Lord Powis. By her mother's side she was related to the Percys of Northumberland, who traced their descent back to Charlemagne. Habington's family, though a good one, was not equal to hers, which may have been the reason why her father objected to him as a lover. For my Lord Powis did object, we learn, though Lady Eleanor, his wife, sympathized with the poet from the first. In a poetical epistle which he addressed to her ladyship, he compliments her on the clearness of her judgment of him, and proclaims the unselfishness of his love for her daughter: "Would Castara were The daughter of some mountaine cottager, Should set themselves out glorious in her stealth, He also addressed an epistle to Lord Powis, but it was after his marriage with Castara. "The holy lights," he says, The date of Habington's marriage is not mentioned, but from a note to one of his poems in the second part of "CASTARA," which part, by the way, is christened The Wife, I should say it took place in or before 1630, his twenty-fifth year. Of his married life, indeed of his life generally, nothing is known, except that it was passed in retirement at the family manor in Hendlip. Devoted to his wife and his books, the contentions of the time swept by, and left him unharmed. In the words of Langhaine, "he was a gentleman who lived in the civil wars, and, slighting Bellona, gave himself entirely to the Muses." His poems were published in 1634. TO CASTARA. A SACRIFICE. Let the chaste Phoenix, from the flowery East, From loose infection, bring their zealous prayer, Bring hither their bright flames, which here shall shine While I, the priest, my untamed heart surprise, TO CASTARA. INTENDING A JOURNEY INTO THE COUNTRY. Why haste you hence, Castara? Can the Earth, Sweet as thy blush? Upon thyself then set The Spring's still with thee; but perhaps the field, To th' hope of sweating Industry, than we Should starve with cold, who have no heat but thee. A life to all, who can deserve to live. TO THE SPRING. ON THE UNCERTAINTY OF CASTARA'S ABODE. Fair mistress of the Earth, with garlands crowned, Or if to th' torrid zone her way she bend, Her the cool breathing of Favonius lend. Thither command the birds to bring their choirs; That zone is temperate, I have all his fires. Attend her, courteous Spring, though we should here TO CASTARA. UPON THE DISGUISING HIS AFFECTION. Pronounce me guilty of a blacker crime, The sad historian reads, if not my art Dissembles love, to veil an amorous heart. For when the zealous anger of my friend To study virtue, which indeed I do; He must court virtue, who aspires to you. - Lest death with love hath struck my heart, and all Which should revive, should there you a mourner be, TO SEYMORS. THE HOUSE IN WHICH CASTARA LIVED. Blest temple, hail! where the chaste altar stands, The beauteous troops of Graces, led by Love Which shall in its first oracle divine That courteous Fate decrees Castara mine. TO CASTARA. DEPARTING UPON THE APPROACH OF NIGHT. What should we fear, Castara? The cool air, |