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And yet whose force fear I ? have I so lost
Come thy Creator too, what though it cost
Heavens saw us struggle once : as brave a fight
WILLIAM HABING TON.
(Born, 1605. Died, 1654.]
The mother of this poet, who was daughter to ceptor. Of the subsequent course of his life Lord Morley, is reported to have written the nothing more seems to be on record than his famous letter of warning, in consequence of marriage and his literary works. The latter which the gunpowder plot was discovered. His consisted of effusions entitled Castara, the poetical father, who had been suspected of a share in name of his mistress ; the Queen of Arragon, Babington's conspiracy, and who had owed his
a tragi-comedy ; a History of Edward IV.; and release to his being godson to Queen Elizabeth, Observations upon History. was a second time imprisoned, and condemned to Habington became a poet from the courtship death on the charge of having concealed some of of the lady whom he married, Lucy, daughter to the agents in the gunpowder plot ; but by Lord Lord Powis. There is no very ardent sensibility Morley's interest was pardoned, on condition of in his lyrics, but they denote a mind of elegant confining himself to Worcestershire, of which and chaste sentiments. He is free as any of the county he lived to write a voluminous history. minor poets of his age from the impurities which
The family were catholics ; and his son, the were then considered as wit. He is indeed poet, was sent to St. Omer's, we are told, with a rather ostentatiously platonic, but his love lanview to make him a Jesuit, which he declined.) guage is far from being so elaborate as the comThe same intention never failed to be ascribed plimentary gallantry of the preceding age. A to all English families who sent their children to respectable gravity of thought, and succinct that seminary. On his return from the Continent fluency of expression, are observable in the he lived chiefly with his father, who was his pre poems of his later life.
And yet these attributes might prove
TO CASTARA, INQUIRING WHY I LOVED HER.
Why doth the stubborn iron prove
The soul which doth with God unite,
Which o'er opinion sway!
How doth she burn away!
Which doth her flight restrain !
And every murdering pain !
And fame's more precious breath ;
At the approach of death!
To think this breathless body must Become a loathsome heap of dust,
And ne'er again appear.
For in the fire when ore is tried,
Do we deplore the loss ?
Shall I grieve for the dross ?
FROM THE QUEEN OP ARRAGON.
The cunning of astrologers
Placing all knowledge there :
And seek no higher sphere.
Still gazing on the pole.
And swells the ambitious soul.
Doth soberly disdain
Distempers of our brain.
On every idle cause :
Regardless of th' applause.
Wherein I breathe this air ;
And treachery of the fair.
What should I grieve or fear,
Nor the Phoenix in his death,
Nor those banks where violets grow,
And Arabian winds still blow,
But O! marriage makes the spell,
The twin-beauties of the skies,
(When the half-sunk sailors haste
To rend sail, and cut their mast,) Shine not welcome, as her eyes.
But those beams, than storms more black,
If they point at me, I wrack. Then for fear of such a fire,
Which kills worse than the long night
Which benumbs the Muscovite,
But O no! for if her eye
John Hall was born at Durham, and edu been some time at the bar when he died in his cated at St. John's College, Cambridge, where in twenty-ninth year. 1616 he published a volume of verses. He had
THE MORNING STAR.
Still Herald of the Morn! whose ray,
Steal in a message to the eyes
(Born, 1819. Died, Jan. 11, 1689. ]
I BELIEVE the only notice of this poet that is sions of this romantic tablet, and make us catch to be found is in Langbaine, who informs us that them only by glimpses. I am well aware that he was a physician at Shaftesbury, in Dorset from a story so closely interwoven a few selected shire, in the reigns of Charles I. and II. He
passages, while they may be more than sufficient wrote a single tragi-comedy,“ Love's Victory," to exemplify the faults, are not enough to diswhich was acted after the Restoration under the cover the full worth of Chamberlayne. His new title of “Wits led by the Nose, or the Poet's sketches, already imperfect, must appear still Revenge.” His Pharonnida, an heroic poem, in more so in the shape of fragments; we must five books, which Langbaine says has nothing to peruse the narrative itself to appreciate the rich recommend it, is one of the most interesting breadth and variety of its scenes, and we must stories that was ever told in verse, and contained perhaps accustom our vision to the thick medium so much amusing matter as to be made into a of its uncouth style to enjoy the power and pathos prose novel in the reign of Charles II. What of his characters and situations. Under all the Dr. Johnson said unjustly of Milton's Comus, that defects of the poem, the reader will then indeed it was like gold hid under a rock, may unfor feel its unfinished hints affect the heart and tunately be applied with too much propriety dilate the imagination. From the fate of Chamto Pharonnida. Never perhaps was so much berlayne a young poet may learn one important beautiful design in poetry marred by infelicity lesson, that he who neglects the subsidiary graces of execution : his ruggedness of versification, of taste has every chance of being neglected by abrupt transitions, and a style that is at once posterity, and that the pride of genius must not slovenly and quaint, perpetually interrupted in prompt him to disdain the study of harmony and enjoying the splendid figures and spirited pas of style.
PHARONNIDA, BOOK II. CANTO III.
Argalia being brought before the Princess Pharonnida on a false accusation of murder, they fall in love with each
Yet, though now depressid other, although the Princess is obliged, with a reluctant heart, to condemn him on false evidence.
Even in opinion, which oft proves the best
Support to those whose public virtues we
Passion's dark fogs; and like that prosperous dove
When all the floods that bound the firmament Between two sterner ministers of fate,
O'erwhelm’d the earth, conscience calm joys to Impartial judges, whose distinguish'd tasks
increase, Their various habit to the view unmasks.
Returns, freight with the olive branch of peace. One, in whose looks, as pity strove to draw Thus fortified from all that tyrant fear Compassion in the tablets of the law,
O'erawed the guilty with, he doth appear. Some softness dwelt, in a majestic vest
Not all Of state-like red was clothed ; the other, dressid His virtues now protect him, he must fall In dismal black, whose terrible aspect
A guiltless sacrifice, to expiate Declared his office, served but to detect
No other crime but their envenom'd hate. Her slow consent, if, when the first forsook An ominous silence-such as oft precedes The cause, the law so far as death did look. The fatal sentence_while the accuser reads Silence proclaim'd, a harsh command calls forth
His charge, possess’d the pitying court in which Th’undaunted prisoner, whose excelling worth Presaging calm Pharonnida, too rich In this low ebb of fortune did appear
In mercy, heaven's supreme prerogative, Such as we fancy virtues that come near
To stifle tears, did with her passion strive The excellence of angels-fear had not
So long, that what at first assaulted in Rifled one drop of blood, nor rage begot
Sorrow's black armour, had so often been More colour in his cheeks—his soul in state, For pity cherish'd, that at length her eyes Throned in the medium, constant virtue sat. Found there those spirits that did sympathise
With those that warm'd her blood, and unseen,move Which might preserve our name, which only now That engine of the world, mysterious love.
Must in our dusty annals live; whilst thou
Transfer'st the glory of our house on one, The beauteous princess, whose free soul had been Which had not I warm'd into life, had gone, Yet guarded in her virgin ice, and now
A wretch forgotten of the world, to th' earth [birth A stranger is to what she doth allow
From whence he sprung? But tear this monstrous Such easy entrance. By those rays that fall Of fancy from thy soul, quick as thou’dst fly From either's eyes, to make reciprocal
Descending wrath if visible, or I Their yielding passions, brave Argalia felt, Shall blast thee with my anger till thy name Even in the grasp of death, his functions melt Rot in my memory; not as the same To flames, which on his heart an onset make That once thou wert behold thee, but as some For sadness, such as weary mortals take
Dire prodigy, which to foreshow should come Eternal farewells in. Yet in this high
All ills which through the progress of my life Tide of his blood, in a soft calm to die,
Did chance were sent. I lost a queen and wife, His yielding spirits now prepare to meet (sheet. Thy virtuous mother, who for goodness might Death, clothed in thoughts white as his winding Have here supplied, before she took her fight That fatal doom, which unto heaven affords To heaven, my better angel's place ; have since The sole appeal, one of the assisting lords
Stood storms of strong affliction ; still a prince Had now pronounced whose horrid thunder could Over my passions until now, but this Not strike his laurelld brow; that voice which Hath proved me coward. Oh! thou dost amiss Have petrified a timorous soul, he hears [would To grieve me thus, fond girl.”—With that he shook With calm attention. No disorder'd fears His reverend head ; beholds her with a look Ruftled his fancy, nor domestic war
Composed of grief and anger, which she sees Raged in his breast ; his every look so far With melting sorrow; but resolved love frees From vulgar passions, that, unless, amazed Her from more yielding pityAt beauty's majesty he sometime gazed
She falls Wildly on that as emblems of more great
Prostrate at's feet; to his remembrance calls Glories than earth afforded, from the seat
Her dying mother's will, by whose pale dust Of resolution his fix'd soul had not
She now conjures him not to be unjust Been stirr'd to passion, which had now begot Unto that promise, with which her pure soul Wonder, not fear, within him. No harsh frown Fled satisfied from earth-as to control Contracts his brow; nor did his thoughts pull down Her freedom of affection.One fainting spirit, wrapt in smother'd groans,
She then To clog his heart. From her most eminent thrones Calls to remembrance who relieved him when Of sense, the eyes, the lightning of his soul Distress'd within Aleythius' walls; the love Flew with such vigour forth, it did control His subjects bore Argalia, which might prove All weaker passions, and at once include
Her choice her happiness ; with all, how great With Roman valour Christian fortitude.
A likelihood, it was but the retreat
About to dictate more, he, with a quick
And furious haste, forsakes the room, his rage tachment to Argalia, breaks into rage and thus threat Thus boiling o'er_“And must my wretched age ens her.
Be thus by thee tormented ? but take heed, Silent with passion, which his eyes inflamed,
Correct thy passions, or their cause must bleed, The prince awhile beholds her ere he blamed Until he quench the flame—” The frailty of affection ; but at length,
• Her soul, oppressid, Through the quick throng of thoughts, arm’d with Sinks in a pale swoon, catching at the rest a strength,
It must not yet enjoy ; swift help lends light, Which crush'd the soft paternal smiles of love,
Though faint and glimmering, to behold what night He thus begins_“And must, О must that prove
Of grief o'ershadow'd her. You that have been My greatest curse on which my hopes ordain'd Upon the rack of passion, tortured in To raise my happiness ? Have I refrain’d
The engines of forbidden love, that have The pleasures of a nuptial bed, to joy
Shed fruitless tears, spent hopeless sighs, to crave Alone in thee, nor trembled to destroy
A rigid parent's fair aspect, conceive My name, so that advancing thine I might
What wild distraction seized her. I must leave Live to behold my sceptre take its flight
Her passions' volume only to be read To a more spacious empire ? Have I spent
Within the breasts of such whose hearts have bled My youth till, grown in debt to age, she hath sent At the like dangerous wounds.Diseases to arrest me that impair My strength and hopes e'er to enjoy an heir,
BOOK III. CANTO II.
Their happy champion. Truce proclaim'd, until BOOK III. CANTO III.
The combat ends, th' expecting people fill
The spacious battlements; the Turks forsake Through the dark path of dusty annals we, Their tents, of whom the city ladies take Led by his valour's light, return to see
A dreadful view, till a more noble sight Argalia's story, who hath, since that night Diverts their looks ; each part behold their knight Wherein he took that strange distracted flight With various wishes, whilst in blood and sweat From treacherous Ardenna, perform’d a course They toil for victory. The conflict's heat So full of threat'ning dangers, that the force Raged in their veins, which honour more inflamed Of his protecting angel trembled to
Than burning calentures could do ; both blamed Support his fate, which crack'd the slender clew The feeble influence of their stars, that gave Of destiny almost to death : his stars,
No speedier conquest ; each neglects to save Doubting their influence when such horrid wars Himself, to seek advantage to offend The gods proclaim’d, withdrew their languish'd | His eager foe. beams
But now so long Beneath heaven's spangled arch; in pitchy streams The Turks' proud champion had endured the The heavy clouds unlade their wombs, until
strong The angry winds, fearing the floods should fill
Assaults of the stout Christian, till his strength The air, the region where they ruled, did break Coolid, on the ground, with his blood—he fell at Their marble lodgings ; Nature's self.grew weak
length, With these distemperatures, and seem'd to draw Beneath his conquering sword. The barbarous crew Tow'rd dissolution-her neglected law
O' the villains that did at a distance view Each element forgot. Th’imprison'd flame, Their champion's fall, all bands of truce forgot, When the clouds' stock of moisture could not tame Running to succour him, begin a hot Its violence, in sulph’ry flashes broke
And desperate combat with those knights that stand Thorough the glaring air ; the swoln clouds spoke To aid Argalia, by whose conquering hand In the loud voice of thunder; the sea raves Whole squadrons of them fall, but here he spent And foams with anger, hurls his troubled waves His mighty spirit in vain, their cannons rent High as the moon's dull orb, whose waning light His scatter'd troops. Withdrew to add more terror to the night.
Argalia lies in chains, ordain'd to die
A sacrifice unto the cruelty ARGALIA TAKEN PRISONER BY THE TURKS.
Of the fierce bashaw, whose loved favourite in
The combat late he slew ; yet had not been
In that so much unhappy, had not he,
Ruffle with discontent; wherefore, to cool that hot Of the chronical disease extended had
Contention of her blood, which he foresaw To some few months, since to oppress the sad That heavy news would from her anger draw, But constant islanders, the army lay,
To quench with the brave Christian's death, he sent Circling their confines. Whilst this tedious stay Him living to her, that her anger, spent From battle rusts the soldier's valour in
In flaming torments, might not settle in His tainted cabin, there had often been,
The dregs of discontent. Staying to win With all variety of fortune, fought
Some Rhodian castles, all the prisoners were Brave single combats, whose success had brought Sent with a guard into Sardinia, there Honour's unwither'd laurels on the brow
To meet their wretched thraldom. From the rest Of either party ; but the balance, now
Argalia sever'd, soon hopes to be blest Forced by the hand of a brave Turk, inclined With speedy death, though waited on by all Wholly to them. Thrice had his valour shined The hell-instructed torments that could fall In victory's refulgent rays, thrice heard
Within invention's reach ; but he's not yet The shouts of conquest; thrice on his lance appeard Arrived to his period, his unmoved stars sit The heads of noble Rhodians, which had struck Thus in their orbs secured. It was the use A general sorrow 'mongst the knights. All look Of th' Turkish pride, which triumphs in th’abuse Who next the lists should enter ; each desires Of suffering Christians, once, before they take The task were his, but honour now requires The ornaments of nature off, to make A spirit more than vulgar, or she dies
Their prisoners public to the view, that all The next attempt, their valour's sacrifice; Might mock their miseries : this sight did call To prop whose ruins, chosen by the free
Janusa to her palace-window, where, Consent of all, Argalia comes to be
Whilst she beholds them, love resolved to bear