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The poems of William Habington

Edited with introduction and commentary by Kenneth Allott
Habington, William (1605-1654)

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CASTARA:
  
To his best friend and Kinsman William Habington, Esquire.
  
To CASTARA,
  
To CASTARA,
  
To Roses in the bosome of CASTARA.
  
To CASTARA,
  
To CASTARA,
  
To my honoured Friend, Mr. E. P.
  
To CASTARA.
  
To CASTARA,
  
To a Wanton.
  
To the Honourable my much honoured friend, R. B. Esquire.
  
To CASTARA,
  
To CASTARA,
  
To the right honourable the Countesse of Ar.
  
Vpon CASTARA'S frowne or smile.
  
In CASTARA,
  
Vpon thought CASTARA may dye.
  
Time to the moments, on sight of CASTARA.
  
To a friend inquiring her name, whom he loved.
  
A Dialogue betweene HOPE and FEARE.
  
To CVPID,
  
Vpon CVPID'S death and buriall in CASTARA'S cheeke.
  
To Fame.
  
A Dialogue betweene ARAPHILL and CASTARA.
  
To CASTARA,
  
Vpon CASTARA'S departure.
  
To CASTARA,
  
To CASTARA,
  
Vpon CASTARA'S absence.
  
To CASTARA,
  
To THAMES.
  
To the right honourable the Earle of SHREWES.
  
To CVPID.
  
To CASTARA.
  
To the Spring,
  
To Reason,
  
An answere to CASTARA'S question.
  
To CASTARA,
  
To the honourable my honoured kinsman Mr. G. T.
  
Eccho to Narcissus.
  
To CASTARA,
  
To Seymors,
  
To the Dew,
  
To CASTARA.
  
To CASTARA,
  
Vpon CASTARA'S departure.
  
A Dialogue betweene NIGHT and ARAPHIL.
  
To the Right Honourable, the Lady, E. P.
  
To CASTARA,
  
An Apparition.
  
To the Honourable Mr. Wm. E.
  
To CASTARA,
  
To my honoured Friend and Kinsman, R. St. Esquire
  
To the World.
  
To the Winter.
  
Vpon a visit to CASTARA in the Night.
  
To CASTARA. Of the chastity of his Love.
  
The Description Of CASTARA.
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CASTARA
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To CASTARA,
  
To CASTARA,
  
To Zephirus.
  
To CASTARA
  
To DEATH,
  
To CASTARA
  
Upon CASTARA'S recoverie.
  
To a Friend,
  
To CASTARA,
  
To CASTARA.
  
To CASTARA,
  
To CASTARA,
  
To CASTARA,
  
To CASTARA,
  
To the Right Honourable the Lady F.
  
To CASTARA.
  
To CASTARA.
  
To CASTARA,
  
A Dialogue betweene ARAPHILL and CASTARA.
  
To the Right Honourable HENRY Lord M.
  
To a Tombe.
  
To CASTARA.
  
To the Right Honourable, the Lord P.
  
His Muse speakes to him.
  
To Vaine hope.
  
To CASTARA,
  
To CASTARA.
  
On the death of the Right Honourable, GEORGE Earle of S.
  
To my worthy Cousin Mr. E. C.
  
Loves Aniversarie
  
Against them who lay unchastity to the sex of Women.
  
To the Right Honourable and excellently learned, William Earle of St.
  
To CASTARA,
  
To the Honourable, G. T.
  
To CASTARA.
  
To my noblest Friend, Sir I. P. Knight.
  
To The Right Honourable Archibald Earle of Ar.
  
An Elegy upon The Honourable Henry Cambell, sonne to the Earle of Ar.
  
To CASTARA.
  
To CASTARA,
  
To the Moment last past
  
To CASTARA.
  
To the Right Honourable the Countesse of C.
  
The harmony of Love.
  
To my honoured friend Sir Ed. P. Knight.
  
To CASTARA.
  
To CASTARA.
  
To my noblest Friend, I. C. Esquire.
  
To CASTARA.
  
To his Muse.
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The Funerals of the Honourable, my best friend and Kinsman, GEORGE TALBOT, Esquire.
 1. 
Elegie, 1.
 2. 
Elegie, 2.
 3. 
Elegie, 3.
 4. 
Elegie, 4.
 5. 
Elegie, 5.
 6. 
Elegie, 6.
 7. 
Elegie, 7.
 8. 
Elegie, 8.
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CASTARA:
  
Domine labia mea aperies. DAVID.
  
Versa est in luctum cythara mea. IOB.
  
Perdam Sapientiam Sapientum.
  
Paucitatem dierum meorum nuncia mihi. DAVID.
  
Non nobis Domine. DAVID.
  
Solum mihi superest sepulchrum. IOB.
  
Et fugit velut umbra. IOB.
  
Nox nocti indicat Scientiam. DAVID.
  
Et alta a longè cognoscit. DAVID.
  
Universum stratum ejus versasti in infirmitate ejus. DAVID.
  
Laudate Dominum de cælis. DAVID.
  
Qui quasi flos egreditur.
  
Quid gloriaris in malicia? DAVID.
  
Deus Deus Meus. DAVID.
  
Quoniam ego in flagella paratus sum. DAVID.
  
Militia est vita hominis.
  
Vias tuas Domine demonstra mihi.
  
Et Exaltavit Humiles.
  
Dominus Dominantium.
  
Cogitabo pro peccato meo.
  
Recogitabo tibi omnes annos meos. ISAY.
  
Cupio dissolvi. Paule.
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PROLOGUES, EPILOGUES AND SONGS FROM THE QUEENE OF ARRAGON 1640
  
The Prologue at Court.
  
The Prologue at the Fryers.
  
The Song in the second Act.
  
The Song in the fourth Act.
  
The Epilogue at Court.
  
The Epilogue at the Fryers.
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OTHER POEMS FROM PRINTED BOOKS
  
[Spread faire thou growing Tree, with which in vaine]
  
To his noble Friend, th' Author on his Tragedy of Albouine.
  
To my friend the author.
  
An ELEGIE UPON THE Death of Ben. Johnson, the most Excellent of English Poets
  
To MY FRIEND, Will. Davenant.
  
On Master JOHN FLETCHERS Dramaticall Poems.
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DOUBTFUL POEMS
  
on Castaraes sittinge on Primrose banks
  
upon Castaries and her sisters goinge Afoote in the Snow

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Elegie, 4.

[My name, deare friend, even thy expiring breath]

My name, deare friend, even thy expiring breath
Did call upon: affirming that thy death
Would wound my poor sad heart. Sad it must be
Indeed, lost to all thoughts of mirth in thee.
My Lord, if I with licence of your teares,
(Which your great brother's hearse as dyamonds weares
T' enrich deaths glory) may but speake my owne:
Ile prove it, that no sorrow ere was knowne
Reall as mine. All other mourners keepe
In griefe a method: without forme I weepe.
105

The sonne (rich in his fathers fate) hath eyes
Wet just as long as are the obsequies.
The widow formally a yeare doth spend
In her so courtly blackes. But for a Friend
We weepe an age, and more than th' Anchorit, have
Our very thoughts confin'd within a Grave.
Chast Love who hadst thy tryumph in my flame
And thou Castara who had hadst a name,
But for this sorrow glorious: Now my verse
Is lost to you, and onely on Talbots herse
Sadly attends. And till times fatall hand
Ruines, what's left of Churches, there shall stand.
There to thy selfe, deare Talbot, Ile repeate
Thy owne brave story; tell thy selfe how great
Thou wert in thy mindes Empire, and how all
Who out-live thee, see but the Funerall
Of glory: and if yet some vertuous be,
They but weake apparitions are of thee.
So setled were thy thoughts, each action so
Discreetely ordered, that nor ebbe nor flow
Was ere perceiv'd in thee: each word mature
And every sceane of life from sinne so pure
That scarce in its whole history, we can
Finde vice enough, to say thou wert but man.
Horror to say thou wert! Curst that we must
Addresse our language to a little dust,
And seeke for Talbot there. Injurious fate,
To lay my lifes ambition desolate.
Yet thus much comfort have I, that I know,
Not how it can give such another blow.
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