LIFE OF WILLIAM HABINGTON.

BORN 1605.-DIED 1654.

THE mother of this poet, who was daughter to Lord Morley, is reported to have written the famous letter of warning, in consequence of which the gunpowder plot was discovered. His father, who had been suspected of a share in Babington's conspiracy, and who had owed his release to his being godson to Queen Elizabeth, was a second time imprisoned, and condemned to death, on the charge of having concealed some of the agents in the gunpowder plot: but, by Lord Morley's interest, was pardoned, on condition of confining himself to Worcestershire, of which county he lived to write a voluminous history.

The family were catholics; and his son, the poet, was sent to St. Omer's, we are told, with a view to make him a Jesuit, which he declined. The same intention never failed to be ascribed to all English families who sent their children to that seminary. On his return from the continent he lived chiefly with his father, who was his preceptor. Of the subsequent course of his life, nothing more seems to be on record than his marriage and his literary works. The latter consisted of effusions, entitled Castara, the poetical name of his mistress; the

Queen of Arragon, a tragedy; a History of Edward IV.; and Observations on History.

Habington became a poet from the courtship of the lady whom he married, Lucy, daughter to Lord Powis. There is no very ardent sensibility in his lyrics, but they denote a mind of elegant and chaste sentiments. He is free as any of the minor poets of his age from the impurities which were then considered as wit. He is, indeed, rather ostentatiously platonic, but his love language is far from being so elaborate as the complimentary gallantry of the preceding age. A respectable gravity of thought, and succinct fluency of expression, are ob servable in the poems of his later life.

WILLIAM HABINGTON.

TO CASTARĄ,

INTENDING A JOURNEY INTO THE COUNTREY.

WHY 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
Just value, and scorne it thy counterfet.

The spring's still with thee; but perhaps the field,
Not warm'd with thy approach, wants force to yeeld
Her tribute to the plough; O rather let
Th' ingrateful 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 publike good. Thy eyes can give
A life to all, who can deserve to live.

TO CASTARA,

BEING DEBARR'D HER PRESENCE.

BANISHT from you, I charg'd the nimble winde,
My unseene messenger, to speak 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 loves to you.

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Heare her then speake. “Bright lady, from whose
Shot lightning to his heart, who joyes to die
A martyr in your flames: O let your love

Be great and firme as his : Then nought shall move
Your setled faiths, that both may grow together:
Or if by Fate divided, both may wither.

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 unkinde 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 trumph waits o' th' victorie
Your love will purchase, showing us to prize

A true content. There onely Love hath eyes."

THE DESCRIPTION OF CASTARA.

LIKE the violet which alone

Prospers in some happy shade:

My Castara lives unknowne,

To no looser eye betray'd,