Thy vows are heard! and thy Castara's name
Is writ as fair i' the register of fame,
As the ancient beauties which translated are
By poets up to Heaven—each there a star.
....*....*....*....*
Fix'd in Love's firmament no star shall shine
So nobly fair, so purely chaste as thine!
The collection of poems which Habington dedicated to his Castara, is divided into two parts: those written before his marriage he has entitled "The Mistress," those written subsequently, "The Wife."
He has prefixed to the whole an introduction in prose, written with some quaintness, but more feeling and elegance, in which he claims for himself the honour of being the first conjugal poet in our language. To use his own words: "Though I appear to strive against the stream of the best wits in erecting the same altar to chastity and love, I will, for one, adventure to do well without a precedent."
Habington had, however, been anticipated, as we have seen, by some of the Italian poets whom he has imitated: he has a little of the récherche and affectation of their school, and is not untinctured by the false taste of his day. He has not great power, nor much pathos; but these defects are redeemed by a delicacy of expression uncommon at that time; by the interest he has thrown round a love as pure as its object, and by the most exquisite touches of fancy, sentiment, and tenderness.
Without expressly naming his wife in his prefatory remarks, he alludes to her very beautifully, and exults, with a modest triumph, in the value of his rich possession.
"How unhappy soever I may be in the elocution, I am sure the theme is worthy enough. * * * Nor was my invention ever sinister from the straight way of chastity; and when love builds upon that rock, it may safely contemn the battery of the waves, and the threatenings of the wind. Since time, that makes a mockery of the finest structures, shall itself be ruined before that be demolished. Thus was the foundation laid; and though my eye, in its survey, was satisfied even to curiosity, yet did not my search rest there. The alabaster, ivory, porphyry, jet, that lent an admirable beauty to the outward building, entertained me with but half pleasure, since they stood there only to make sport for ruin. But when my soul grew acquainted with the owner of that mansion, I found that oratory was dumb when it began to speake her."
He then describes her wisdom; her wit; her innocence,—"so unvitiated by conversation with the world, that the subtle-witted of her sex would have termed it ignorance;" her modesty "so timorous, it represented a besieged city standing watchfully on her guard: in a word, all those virtues which should restore woman to her primitive state of virtue, fully adorned her." He then prettily apologises for this indiscreet rhetoric on such a subject. "Such," he says, "I fancied her; for to say she is, or was such, were to play the merchant, and boast too much of the value of the jewel I possess, but have no mind to part with."
He concludes with this just, yet modest appreciation of himself:—"If not too indulgent to what is mine own, I think even these verses will have that proportion in the world's opinion, that heaven hath allotted me in fortune,—not so high as to be wondered at, nor so low as to be contemned."