The poems of William Habington Edited with introduction and commentary by Kenneth Allott |
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The poems of William Habington | ||
38
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.
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,
Distill you from her eyes as teares?
Have oft beene conscious of my feares,
Distill you from her eyes as teares?
Or that Castara for your zeale,
When she her beauties shall reveale,
Might you to Dyamonds congeale?
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.
Your care I praise, 'gainst she appeare,
To make the wealthy Indies here.
But see she comes. Bright lampe oth' skie.
Put out thy light: the world shall spie,
A fairer Sunne in either eye.
Put out thy light: the world shall spie,
A fairer Sunne in either eye.
And liquid Pearle, hang heavie now
On every grasse that it may bow
In veneration of her brow.
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.
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.
Our happy enterview betray;
Lest thou confesse too, melt away.
The poems of William Habington | ||