The poems of William Habington Edited with introduction and commentary by Kenneth Allott |
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To CASTARA,
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The poems of William Habington | ||
To CASTARA,
Looking upon him.
Transfix me with that flaming dart,
Ith' eye, or brest, or any part,
So thou, Castara, spare my heart.
Ith' eye, or brest, or any part,
So thou, Castara, spare my heart.
The cold Cymerian by that bright
Warme wound, ith' darknesse of his night,
Might both recover heat, and light.
Warme wound, ith' darknesse of his night,
Might both recover heat, and light.
The rugged Scythian gently move,
Ith' whispering shadow of some grove,
That's consecrate to sportive Love.
Ith' 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 off his snow.
The rivers in soft murmurs flow,
And from his head shake off his snow.
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And crooked age might feele againe
Those heates, of which youth did complaine,
While fresh blood swels each withered veyne.
Those heates, of which youth did complaine,
While fresh blood swels each withered veyne.
For the bright lustre of thy eyes,
Which but to warme them would suffice,
May burne me to a sacrifice.
Which but to warme them would suffice,
May burne me to a sacrifice.
The poems of William Habington | ||