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The poems of William Habington

Edited with introduction and commentary by Kenneth Allott

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Recogitabo tibi omnes annos meos. ISAY.
  
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Recogitabo tibi omnes annos meos. ISAY.

Time! where didst thou those yeares inter
Which I have seene decease?
My soules at war and truth bids her
Finde out their hidden Sepulcher,
To give her troubles peace.
Pregnant with flowers doth not the Spring
Like a late bride appeare?
Whose fether'd Musicke onely bring
Caresses, and no Requiem sing
On the departed yeare?
The Earth, like some rich wanton heire,
Whose Parents coffin'd lye,
Forgets it once lookt pale and bare
And doth for vanities prepare,
As the Spring nere should dye.

147

The present houre, flattered by all
Reflects not on the last;
But I, like a sad factor shall
T' account my life each moment call,
And onely weepe the past.
My mem'ry trackes each severall way
Since Reason did begin
Over my actions her first sway:
And teacheth me that each new day
Did onely vary sin.
Poore banckrout Conscience! where are those
Rich houres but farm'd to thee?
How carelessely I some did lose,
And other to my lust dispose
As no rent day should be?
I have infected with impure
Disorders my past yeares.
But Ile to penitence inure
Those that succeed. There is no cure
Nor Antidote but teares.