Let the sweet-breathed violet now,
Unto whom she pleaseth, bow;
And the fairest lily spread,
Where she will her golden head:
I have such a flower to wear
That for those I do not care.

Never shall my fancy range,
Nor once think again of change;
Never will I, never more,
Grieve or sigh, as heretofore;
Nor within the lodgings lie
Of despair or jealousy.

WILLIAM HABINGTON.

(1605-1654?.)

TO CASTARA:

THE REWARD OF INNOCENT LOVE.

From Castara, 1634; augmented editions 1635 and 1640. The first selection is from the first edition, the second from that of 1635, and the last two from that of 1640. Reprinted in vol. vi. of Chalmers' Poets, and in Arber's English Reprints, 1870.

E saw and wooed each other's eyes,

WE

My soul contracted then with thine,

And both burnt in one sacrifice,

By which our marriage grew divine.

Let wilder youth, whose soul is sense,
Profane the temple of delight,
And purchase endless penitence,
With the stolen pleasure of one night,

0

Time's ever ours while we despise
The sensual idol of our clay,

For though the sun do set and rise,
We joy one everlasting day;

Whose light no jealous clouds obscure,
While each of us shine innocent,
The troubled stream is still impure;
With virtue flies away content.

And though opinion often err,
We'll court the modest smile of fame,
For sin's black danger circles her,
Who hath infection in her name.

Thus when to one dark silent room,
Death shall our loving coffins thrust;
Fame will build columns on our tomb,
And add a perfume to our dust.

TO THE MOMENT LAST PAST.

WHITHER dost thou fly? cannot my vow

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 track their way.

O unseen wealth! who thee did husband, can

Outvie the jewels of the ocean,

The mines of th' earth! One sigh well spent in thee Had been a purchase for eternity!

We will not lose thee then.

Castara, where

Shall we find out his hidden sepulchre?

And we'll revive him. Not the cruel stealth

Of fate shall rob us of so great a wealth

Undone in thrift! while we besought his stay,
Ten of his fellow-moments fled away.

NOX NOCTI INDICAT SCIENTIAM.

WHEN I survey the bright

Celestial sphere,

So rich with jewels hung, that night
Doth like an Ethiop bride appear:

My soul her wings doth spread
And heavenward flies,

The Almighty's mysteries to read
In the large volumes of the skies.

For the bright firmament

Shoots 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,

Removed far from our human sight,

But if we steadfast look

We shall discern

In it as in some holy book,

How man may heavenly knowledge learn.

It tells the conqueror,

That far-stretched power,

Which his proud dangers traffic for,
Is but the triumph of an hour.

That from the farthest north

Some nation may

Yet undiscovered issue forth,

And o'er his new-got conquest sway.

Some nation yet shut in

With hills of ice,

May be let out to scourge his sin,
Till they shall equal him in vice.

And then they likewise shall
Their ruin have;

For as yourselves your empires fal
And every kingdom hath a grave.

Thus those celestial fires,

Though seeming mute,

The fallacy of our desires

And all the pride of life confute.

For they have watched since first
The world had birth:

And found sin in itself accursed,
And nothing permanent on earth.

COGITABO PRO PECCATO MEO.

N what dark silent grove

IN

Profaned by no unholy love,

Where witty melancholy ne'er

Did carve the trees or wound the air,

Shall I religious leisure win,

To weep away my sin?

How fondly have I spent

My youth's unvalued treasure, lent

To traffic for celestial joys;

My unripe years, pursuing toys,

Judging things best that were most gay, Fled unobserved away.

Grown elder I admired

Our poets as from Heaven inspired;
What obelisks decreed I fit

For Spenser's art, and Sidney's wit?
But waxing sober soon I found
Fame but an idle sound.

Then I my blood obeyed,

And each bright face an idol made:
Verse in an humble sacrifice,
I offered to my mistress' eyes,
But I no sooner grace did win
But met the devil within

But grown more politic

I took account of each state trick:
Observed each motion, judged him wise,
Who had a conscience fit to rise.
Whom soon I found but form and rule
And the more serious fool.

But now my soul prepare

To ponder what and where we are,
How frail is life, how vain a breath
Opinion, how uncertain death;
How only a poor stone shall bear
Witness that once we were.

How a shrill trumpet shall

Us to the bar as traitors call.

Then shall we see too late that pride

Hath hope with flattery belied,
And that the mighty in command

Pale cowards there must stand.